night they could hear armorers hammering, animals bawling and supply sergeants barking at their lazy charges.
Safar peered at the big tent set up in the middle of the camp. Iraj's flag flew overhead, fluttering in the light of the Demon Moon.
He shook his head, grim. 'There's nothing that can be done,' he said, getting to his feet. 'Come on. We'd better catch up to the others and warn them.'
At that moment a large explosion rent the air. The two turned to see a fiery shower bursting into the night sky.
Iraj's tent was in flames and frantic men and demons were rushing from all over to put it out Leiria could barely keep from doing a dance. 'What incredible luck!' she hooted.
Safar was thoughtful, examining the dancing flames. 'It wasn't luck,' he said at last. Then he smiled.
'Someone's been up to some mischief again,' he said.
'Palimak?' Leiria asked, incredulous.
'Who else?'
Palimak and his Favorites were peering at the small lump of clay he'd pinched off the original before he'd made the horse.
Suddenly it flared and Palimak yelped with glee. 'We got him! We got him!' he shouted. He smacked his knee with a small fist. 'That'll teach that mean old Iraj Protarus!'
Then the bit of clay shattered into dust. Palimak's joy turned to dismay.
'Do you think he's still alive?' he asked.
Gundaree stroked his handsome chin, examining the patterns of clay dust on the floor. 'I fear so, Little Master,' he finally said.
Gundara was looking over his shoulder. 'But we killed somebody,' he said, trying to sooth Palimak's feelings. 'At least we did that.'
'So what?' Palimak said, still gloomy. 'It was probably just some stupid soldier.'
'It wasn't an entirely cheerless event, Little Master,' Gundaree said. 'We did manage to hurt the king.
Enough to keep him out of action for awhile.'
Palimak brightened. 'That's all right, then,' he said. 'Maybe we didn't kill him, but at least we slowed him down.'
Kalasariz watched with much satisfaction as the burial party carried the still-smoking remains of Old Sheesan to the river and dumped them in without ceremony.
In the medical tent he could hear Protarus howl in pain as Lord Fari treated his burn wounds with magical ointments and spells.
'I want that child found and killed!' the king shrieked. Another how of pain, then, 'No, don't kill him! I'll skin the man or demon alive who harms a hair on his head!
'I want him for myself, do you hear? I want him for myself!'
Once again the spymaster whispered thanks to the dark god who'd overseen his birth. Without the native caution of second thought, it might have been Kalasariz' body that was being so roughly treated.
Oh, sure, the spymaster was sorry the hunt for Safar would be delayed while the king healed. But in his opinion-the only one that ever really counted to Kalasariz-that was a small price to pay for survival.
There was also a bright side-possibly even outweighing the near disaster. At least I rid myself of that witch, he thought.
He looked down at the roiling river and saw a blackened lump of flesh snagged on the shore. A freshwater crab scuttled out from a hole in the bank, snatched the flesh up in its claws and dashed out of sight.
Good riddance, you old bitch, Kalasariz thought. Then he strolled into the night, humming to himself while his agile mind searched for new plots to hatch.
Part Three
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Three weeks out of Caluz Safar led his people into a region so desolate, so barren that even vultures shunned the ashen skies. Black peaks vomited sparks and sulfurous smoke over a dark, cratered plain littered with gigantic heaps of rock. Here the Demon Moon shone strong and bright, casting strange shadows that seemed like pools of old blood.
Tornadoes rose up like disturbed nests of dragons, roaring from one end of the plain to the other, destroying everything in their path. The craters proved to be entrances to deep caverns and at night millions of bats swarmed out. They hovered in dense black clouds, then flew away to some distant promised land where plump insects abounded. The bats returned each dawn, descending into the craters in great swirling columns as if they were being sucked into the Hells.
Everyone became fearful, starting at the slightest sound, continually casting nervous glances over their shoulders, trembling hands never far from a weapon. Although surrounded by hundreds of fellow villagers, each person felt oddly alone and vulnerable to the vagaries of evil chance.
Then they began to run low on supplies, especially feed for the animals. In the long, sustained dash to Caluz there had been little chance for the animals to forage. Now the stores of fodder were dangerously scarce and there was no place to stop and let the beasts fill up on the bounty of the fields. Nothing grew in that bleak land where even a thorn could not take root.
The alarmists on the Council of Elders wanted to abandon some of the wagons, killing and butchering the oxen, then drying the meat so they'd be certain to have enough food to reach Caluz. Their reasoning was that the wagons and animals could be replaced when they reached their goal.
Safar successfully argued that it was too great a risk. 'What if something happens in Caluz that prevents us from buying more?' he'd said. 'Then we'd be caught in a trap of our own making.'
Actually, he was fairly certain there'd be no chance at all of replacing the wagons and animals. But if he told them what he really knew about Caluz he'd be hard pressed to keep them from running like the Hells in the other direction.
If truth be known, it wouldn't have taken much for Safar to join them in mad flight. From the moment he stepped foot into the Black Lands his wizardly senses had been assaulted by sudden magical disturbances-a rippling of the surface of the otherworlds, that made him feel unsteady, sick to his stomach. On a few occasions he was hit by a feeling of the deepest foreboding that something quite terrible was going to happen if he continued and it was all he could do not to order an immediate retreat.
If it weren't for the memory of the mysterious and beautiful Spirit Rider who'd come to warn him in the vision, he might have succumbed. True, she'd said he faced grave danger in Caluz. However, she'd also confirmed the necessity of the visit. The two things combined to give form to the dangers they faced.
Thus strengthened, he was able to cast shields to protect the other Kyranians from the worst of the rogue spells that made all seem so hopeless.
Palimak didn't seem to be as affected. The boy's growing powers seemed to shield him from the worst.
Since they'd entered the black lands Palimak's eyes were a constant glowing yellow and Safar could feel currents of power flowing from him.
Most surprising of all, the boy had a fairly good idea about what was happening.
