Horses of the Doralissian breed had more stamina and speed than any others in the world. Buyers in the Sultanate and the elfin noble houses paid really big money for them.
On the Street of the Butchers I came to a sharp halt and caught my breath. I thought I’d heard the creatures shout something as I entered my den. Something like: “Give us back our horse!” Their brains must have completely turned to mush. I’m a master thief, I don’t steal horses. Either this was simply a woeful mistake, or someone had set me up. But exactly which ill-wisher could it be, out of the hundreds of possible candidates? From round the corner I heard bleating and the clatter of hooves drawing closer. The Doralissians must finally have realized that I couldn’t be hiding in the cloak, and continued the pursuit. Should I try to conceal myself in the shadow? I would have done it long before, if not for the goats’ excellent sense of smell.
But this can’t go on for much longer—I’ll run out of steam soon, and the brutes will grab me, alive but weakened. Or those wild howls will attract unwanted attention to my humble person. From the creatures of the night, for instance. I’ll have to resort to extreme measures. I stuck my hand inside my shirt and tugged out the scroll with the battle spell that I had recently borrowed from the library. Ah, and I’d been planning to hold on to it until the Palaces of Bone and use it there.
I hastily ripped off the black ribbon and unrolled the scroll. I didn’t know how the spell worked, but I had to hurry. The howls of the Doralissians were drawing closer now. Screwing up my eyes to make out the small, fancy letters of the spell by the light of the moon, I began reading:
My tongue twisted around desperately in my mouth, attempting to pronounce the unpronounceable. After the magical phrases I gestured theatrically in the direction of the approaching Doralissians.
Nothing happened.
That is, absolutely nothing. I was left standing there like an idiot in the middle of the dark street, with my arm flung out and my jaw hanging loose in astonishment. The rune magic hadn’t worked! Maybe I hadn’t read the incantation right?
Okay, try again! I glanced at the scroll, swore, and flung it away. The ink had disappeared and the letters of the spell were gone. Obviously I had pronounced the accursed words correctly after all, but then why in the name of Darkness weren’t they having any effect?
Realizing that while I just stood there thinking I offered a fine target, I decided I’d better get moving.
A few minutes later, with the bitter sweat flooding my eyes and my lungs whistling like a blacksmith’s bellows, I realized very clearly just how bad things were. As ill luck would have it, there wasn’t a single guardsman anywhere in sight. That’s always the way. When you need them, they’re nowhere to be found. The goat-men might not run as fast as men can, but there’s no denying their sheer stubbornness.
It was all over! I had no more strength to run. Another minute, and I was going to collapse on the road, come what may!
I pressed myself against the wall of a house that cast a thick black shadow. My nose was assaulted by the rank odor of rotten fish. An appalling smell, I must say. But there was one good thing about it—the brutes might smell the fish instead of Harold. I froze, trying to breathe through my mouth in order not to collapse in a faint from that appalling aroma.
They appeared about fifteen seconds later, puffing and panting as they plodded along in single file, glancing around and clutching their barbed cudgels in their hands.
“Whe-e-re cou-ould he have go-o-one?” one of them bleated clumsily in human language, striking his club against the wall of the house beside him in confirmation of his less than positive feelings concerning a certain Harold.
Chips of stone were sent flying.
“He-e-e’s got ahea-ea-ead of us,” one of the crowd of volunteer executioners snorted. “Run i-i-into the i-i-inner ci-i-ity of humans.”
“He took our ho-orse! Our ho-orse!”
“Ye-es! Ye-es! Our ho-orse! We have to ca-atch up with hi-im!” they all started howling together.
As I listened to the sound of clattering hooves moving away, I made a sincerely heartfelt wish that my new friends would run into trouble on their nighttime run through the