'I suppose so,' Safar answered, dry.
'Do you know the answer, Father?' he asked.
Safar shook his head. 'No I don't son,' he said. 'No I don't.'
Then from overhead came the cry of many bats and Safar looked up to see that the black swirling cloud was still there. Except now the bats seemed more excited than before, shrieking and flapping excitedly as if suddenly disturbed.
'What's wrong with the bats?' Safar asked.
Palimak yawned, exhaustion suddenly overcoming him. 'Nothing, Father,' he said. 'It was never the bats!'
He fell asleep, but Safar kept his eye on the bats as he rode along, wondering at their odd behavior.
Far away at the edge of the Black Lands, four giant wolves prowled a hilltop. A great spellfire swirled in the center of the hill, shooting off sparks and spears of flame. The wolves paced about the fire, sometimes on all fours, sometimes on hind feet, growling and grinding their teeth.
Their huge glowing eyes were fixed on the heart of the spellfire, where an image of the Black Lands wheeled about. They were looking down from a great height, gaping crater to one side, a wide track running along it. They could see the blasted remains of the beast. And far up ahead the lights of a caravan were winking on, curving up a long hill.
But immediately beneath them, trotting along the track after the wagons, was the sight that had them growling with delight, shape-changer's hunger stoked into hot-bellied pain.
It was Safar Timura, riding a magnificent horse, carrying a sleeping Palimak in his arms.
Then Timura looked up-staring right at them. It was so sudden they were startled and drew back, growling warnings as if Safar's image were about to attack.
The image became clouded and confused as their spell concentration weakened.
'Kill him!' they snarled. 'Kill his brat! Kill his bitch woman!'
The creature who was Iraj Protarus recovered first, roaring at the image, 'Enough! I've seen enough!'
And the image shattered.
Safar's hackles prickled as the huge black swarm of bats suddenly broke apart. Their cries were wild, hysterical, as if they had been asleep and now danger had suddenly awakened them.
Then, just as quickly as it began, the hysteria ended and they formed up again and flew off in an orderly fashion. A great long, blunt-tipped arrow aimed out of the Black Lands.
Safar shivered and at the same time Khysmet quickened his pace.
The hunters were out and it was time to get off the road.
Iraj paced the edge of the hill, staring out into the Black Lands, scarred snout moving this way and that as he searched the barren plains.
In the background he could hear his spell brothers howling orders and his great army muscling into life.
Demon steeds shrieked and clawed at one another as their masters booted them into formation. Humans threw their shields over their shoulders and settled their battle harness and weapons for the march.
Cooks and supply men were scattering the campfires and loading the wagons. Demon and human whores fought each other for space aboard those wagons, slapping or comforting frightened children and kits, depending on their temperaments.
Iraj ignored all this, searching the glowing skies beneath the Demon Moon. The wait seemed interminable. His anger and blood lust grew by the minute.
Then he saw it-the huge cloud of shrieking bats, streaming out of the Black Lands.
His senses exploded into exquisite life and he howled in joy at the sight. Then the bats were overhead, wheeling about the sky, once, twice, three times. Then they flew off again, heading back the way they had come.
Like an unleashed bolt Iraj charged forward, bounding down the hill after them, howling for his prey. His spell brothers charged after him, fanning out to sweep up anything and everything in their great snapping jaws and deadly talons.
Behind them came Protarus' army. The first elements had already topped the hill and were pouring down the other side. They were led by five hundred mounted demons, their spears making a deadly forest, their battle cries ululating across the lightning blasted terrain.
Within moments the whole plain was swarming with men and demons-led by the four immense wolves who were their masters.
It was a juggernaut aimed straight at Caluz.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
After a year of desperate flight and miserable camps, the Kyranians fell into the embrace of Caluz as if it were the softest and deepest of pillows. They were warmly welcomed, with hundreds of people and demons streaming out to greet them with gifts of choice food and delicious drink and all manner of clothes and goods to replace their trail-worn things.
Queen Hantilia provided them with a large, lightly wooded field to make their temporary home and supplied them with every luxury imaginable, until soon the field seemed more like a pleasure camp for royalty enjoying a few weeks in the bracing outdoors. They settled into colorful pavilions filled with thick carpets and pillows. Cheery cooking fires were scattered among the pavilions, each with tables and benches so the Kyranians could imagine they were at home, gossiping and sharing leisurely meals.
Portable bath houses were set up along the river and the Kyranians reveled in an orgy of hot soapy baths, soaking away months of grime in steaming kettles big enough to hold a family. Then they all donned their new clothes and strolled through the trees, or along the nearby river bank, feeling clean and without care.
Special attention was paid to the soldiers and horses hurt in the encounter with the beast. The Queen sent her best healers to treat them with magical herbs and ointments and soon they were up and about, injuries fading, enjoying their new home as much as the rest.
Every day was a glorious day in Caluz. The sun always mild, the nights pleasantly cool and the remarkable absence of the Demon Moon made everyone feel as if a large weight had been lifted.
Children played, lovers swooned, mothers and fathers enjoyed many stolen moments alone, as did the grandparents. At night those who could make music made it and everyone danced and sang away their troubles.
It was a grand holiday for one and all-except Safar, who disappeared for several days of intense conferences with the Queen and the top Caluzian priests and scholars. His absence only made everyone's mood lighter. For a short time they could forget about Iraj Protarus, prophecies of a doomed world and their desperate journey to far off Syrapis. Safar was dealing with such things. And when he decided what they should do next he'd come and tell them. Who could say when that would be? So let's enjoy life, grab what we can from it for the dark days will return soon enough.
Yet there was a ragged edge to their joy. Snatched as they were from a place where fear had become ordinary, the Kyranians went about their pleasures at a frantic pace. Leaping from one activity to another.
Always glancing over their shoulders, waiting for the predestined shadow to fall.
Only Palimak and Leiria were unaffected. Only they saw the mirror cracks in the perfection that was Caluz. Leiria because she was a soldier and had a soldier's healthy suspicion of all things. Palimak because he was a newly serious boy, a self-appointed wizard's apprentice to his father, whom he was worried would leave him out of the main action. Whatever that was going to be.
One evening while they were walking together along the river looking for a likely fishing spot they came upon
