'A hateful man,' Asayaga snapped and Tinuva could sense that the Tsurani had expected some sort of ritual to be played out, a formal exchange of acknowledgment of blood debt. He could tell, however, that Hartraft was uncomfortable with the entire incident and just wanted it dropped.

'War does that,' Tinuva replied finally.

'Does what?'

'It makes all of us hateful.' As he said the words he gazed intently at the far side of the river.

After a moment, Asayaga left to see to his men.

When they were alone, Gregory said, 'What is it?'

Tinuva knew what the question meant. Gregory understood his people well enough to know that sooner or later Tinuva would tell him what it was that had bothered him since the ambush. Quietly, Tinuva said, 'Of those the Tsurani and I ambushed, one was Kavala.'

Gregory swore. 'That means…"

Softly, Tinuva said, 'Bovai is near.'

Gregory said, 'Another of the gods' riddles and challenges?' He shook his head. For a human, he could mask his expression almost as well as an elf, yet to Tinuva, his distress was obvious.

'Hardly,' said Tinuva. 'A cruel fate, perhaps.'

'What will you do?'

Tinuva said, 'I will serve, and do what I can to help Dennis, you, and the Tsurani, survive. But if the chance comes to end this… blood debt, then I will take it.'

Gregory nodded. He knew what few humans knew of the truth behind the relationship between the eledhel and the moredhel, and specifically between Tinuva and Bovai, and he would not speak of it to anyone without Tinuva's permission.

Finally, he said, 'Best not to let Dennis know about this until it is impossible to hide it. If he knew Bovai was there, he might just linger long enough to force a confrontation.'

Tinuva's mouth turned slightly upward, an open expression of humour. 'Dennis owes Bovai a blood debt, but he has more sense than that.'

Chuckling, Gregory said, 'I hope you're right.' He turned towards the fire and said again, 'I'm going to miss that bow.'

Looking at the fatigued men around the fire, Tinuva remarked, 'There will be extra weapons, soon enough.'

Gregory needed no explanation – he knew many of these men would be dead within days – and nodded once, then walked away, leaving the elf to his own thoughts.

Staring across the river, where the human mercenaries stood watching, judging what to do next, Tinuva wondered how long he would wait before seeking out Bovai.

Lost in his reverie he almost didn't notice the first command for the men to get ready to move out; then, sensing movement behind him as the activity in the camp quickened, he took one last look across the river, then turned and moved back towards the others.

EIGHT. DECISIONS

Twilight was deepening.

Dennis Hartraft turned away from the knot of soldiers, throwing up his hands in exasperation. 'You are all crazy,' he snapped angrily, looking back over his shoulder. 'Stopping now is madness.' He pointed to the pass in the next range of mountains, still ten miles away. 'Once over the Teeth of the World, we're in the clear. Then we rest.'

'And not one man in ten will make it that far,' Brother Corwin interjected. 'I suspect it's because neither you nor the Tsurani will admit in front of the other that you have to stop. This chase has been going on for three days. There's barely a man left who can fight, let alone march another mile.'

'Brother, I didn't know you were part of this council of war,' Dennis retorted. 'It's for any man who fights and wishes a fair say.'

'But I'll be heard nevertheless,' the monk snapped back without hesitation. 'Give these men a rest.'

Dennis, hands on his hips, stepped back into the circle of men. He caught the eye of Asayaga who was softly whispering, translating the conversation to the men of his command.

'The Tsurani here don't have councils of war,' Dennis replied. 'Their commander says go, and they go. I'm willing to bet they are ready to go over that mountain tonight and be clear of pursuit once and for all. You men called for a council and I must accept that, but I am telling you that to stop for rest now is madness.'

Asayaga, even as he translated, looked straight at Dennis without comment.

'Will you have it said that those -' the word 'bastard' almost slipped out but he held it '- these enemies of the Kingdom can do something we cannot do?'

Dennis's voice started off at a low pitch. 'I know it is our custom to ask for a council of war -' his voice started to rise '- the lowest in my command can ask for one if there is a serious question of my orders, but that is not the case in a time of crisis, or in the middle of a fight!' He ended on a shout.

'I see neither a fight, nor a crisis," Corwin replied calmly. 'We've outrun pursuit. It's getting on to dusk. We have a clear view back across twenty miles and see nothing behind us.' He pointed back across the plains and low rolling hills which the men had wearily traversed. From their elevated position in the foothills, someone with a sharp enough eye could see clear back to the river they had forded that morning. Nothing moved upon it except for a few stags, the does that followed them, and a distant band of wolves.

'They can still flank along these mountains,' Dennis replied, pointing eastward to the forest-clad slopes which they had been approaching all afternoon.

'Someone would have to come behind us to where we crossed the river,' the monk argued, 'to make sure they picked up our trail. We haven't seen anyone behind us all afternoon.'

'So, you are a master of woodcraft and field tactics as well?' Dennis asked

'No, just a man who's spent a lot of time outdoors, and who knows how to apply logic; and logic demands that we rest. The ground ahead looks good: plenty of fir trees for fuel and making rough shelters, and game signs all around. Just rest tonight, then tomorrow we can push on. If you try a night march now, you won't have twenty men left come dawn.'

Dennis turned away from the priest, his gaze slowly sweeping the ranks of the men gathered round him. Then, for a brief instant an image flashed through his mind. He glanced back at the priest, and the image faded.

Corwin saw Dennis examining him and said, 'What?'

Dennis was silent for a moment, then, 'Nothing,' he said.

He looked at his men and saw precious little support amongst them. The priest was right, they were played out: fording the river had sapped the last of their strength and the forced march of the afternoon had been a final lunge of desperation. All were on the verge of collapse.

He shifted his gaze to Asayaga. It was hard to read the strange blankness the Tsurani could assume when they desired. He wondered if Asayaga was in agreement, or was filled with contempt for the weakness of his enemy.

'Rest would be good,' Asayaga ventured. 'Some have marched sixty of your miles or more without sleep for two days. Half my men will die before morning from the freezing sickness.'

Dennis was startled by the admission. He looked over at Tinuva and Gregory.

'My friend,' Gregory said softly, 'there are times when you forget that few can equal your endurance; it is your only fault as a leader.'

'But you would agree they might be close?'

Tinuva stood up and stepped away from the circle to the edge of the knoll where they had stopped for the meeting. All were silent as he carefully scanned the distant horizon, then raised his head, nostrils flaring as if smelling the cold wind.

'I've not walked this land in years,' he sighed, turning to look back at the expectant group. 'I've lost touch with its rhythms, its heart beat, the feel of its wind, the scent of the soil and the things that grow here.' He paused. 'I can tell you though that we are the first to disturb this place since the snows began to fall. But that does not mean we will be alone for long. I know who is pursuing us now, and that makes me cautious of lingering here.'