‘That your service is not finished.’ She didn’t explain further but shook out her apron, draped it over her arm and headed back to the house. Jachen looked to Morghien for answers, but saw only amusement in his face.
‘Don’t give me that kicked puppy look,’ Morghien said dismissively as they turned to follow the witch. ‘I’m as much in the dark as you - just I’m more used to it.’
‘And not even the king knows why we’re here?’
‘There’s much Emin keeps from me, that’s what kings do.’
Jachen bit back his reply, knowing he’d get nothing useful from the strange man. He followed in silence, determined not to speak any more than necessary until someone gave him a few answers.
The witch didn’t stay long at the house; she checked first on her patient, then gave the sister a few stern instructions, rejoining the men a quarter of an hour later. She led them south at a brisk pace, ignoring the looks of alarm on the faces of those townsfolk they passed.
The path was little more than a rabbit run. After an hour the trees had become denser and the Farlan were forced to dismount and lead their horses. From time to time Morghien spoke to the witch in the local dialect, but her responses were curt. Morghien didn’t appear to be put off, but the witch began to ignore him and the wanderer was forced to get Sergeant Ralen to bring him up to date instead.
With every mention of fanaticism within the cults, Morghien’s voice betrayed a growing anger, one that Jachen had never heard before. Similarly, the news that Count Vesna had become the Mortal-Aspect of Karkarn was met with a snort of disgust, but it was news that a huge dragon had been awakened under the Library of Seasons that finally made Morghien fall silent.
As the afternoon progressed, a breeze picked up and Jachen realised he could smell smoke on the wind. He saw Ralen had noticed it too, and was similarly confused. The witch wouldn’t have left the fire burning at her home, so clearly she was leading them to someone - but who would she want them to meet in this backwater part of Narkang? But he was determined not to say another word until he got some answers.
At last the trees petered out and Jachen saw a lake stretching out in front of him, beside which was a cottage. To his complete astonishment there was a man sitting on a small jetty, fishing, with a grey-furred dog at his side. At the sound of visitors the dog turned and began to bark; the man twisted and hooked an arm around the dog’s chest. They walked cautiously, waiting for the man to quieten the frantic dog before risking getting too near, but at last the man released the struggling bundle of fur and jumped up to greet them, a welcoming smile on his face and a firm grip on the scruff of the dog’s neck.
‘Mihn?’ Jachen exclaimed.
The failed Harlequin gave a small bow before gripping the major firmly by the wrist. He wore a shapeless woollen shirt with the sleeves half-rolled up, exposing the curling trails of the leaf tattoos on each arm that ended at his wrist. For the hundredth time Jachen wondered what the tattoos and the runes on each leaf did. The dog danced around them, watching all three warily as it crept forward to sniff at their boots.
‘Good to see you again, Major,’ Mihn said, greeting Ralen and Marad before Morghien embraced him. ‘May I introduce you to Hulf? Toss him a strip of smoked meat and he will be your friend for life.’
‘When did you leave Tirah?’
‘Not long after the army, I had instructions to carry out.’
Jachen faltered. ‘Ah, have you . . .’
‘Heard the news?’ Mihn replied gravely. ‘I knew when you did.’
‘Fucking spawn of Ghenna!’ Marad yelled, dropping the reins of his horse and yanking his glaive from its sheath, and Jachen whirled around in time to see a shape retreat into the shadows of the cottage.
‘What was it?’ Jachen snapped, drawing his own sword as Ralen fell in beside Marad.
‘Some bastard daemon,’ Marad growled, his face white with shock, and advanced on the cottage, his glaive raised and ready to strike.
‘Lower your weapons!’ Mihn yelled, racing in front of Marad. ‘It is not what you think!’
Beside Mihn the dog crouched, muscles bunching as it snarled at the angry voices. The guardsman blinked at Mihn