Lorya gaped at the necklace and tried to hand it back. Blade shook his head. «Keep it. I won't need it in the village. If I don't come back, you will. You can sell the bars one at a time. I imagine you can find buyers?»

«Yes.»

Blade wasn't surprised. The people of Rentoro might be peaceful under the rule of the Wizard and his Wolves, but they were men, not angels. There would be thieves and there would be receivers for what the thieves stole. There was enough gold in that necklace to take Lorya a long way.

She reached up, squeezed Blade's hand in farewell, and disappeared into the trees. Blade tied the red silk over his face, hiding everything but his eyes. Then he urged the heuda down the trail toward the village at a brisk trot.

His plan was simple. The Wolves might have no idea of who or what they were looking for, since the only three who'd got a good look at him were dead. If by some chance they did know, they would be looking for a man with an ax and a woman, riding double on a war heuda.

Either way, they would not get much help from the people of the village. The villagers would see only a single man, face masked, without an ax, riding a heuda so splashed with mud that no markings would be visible. They could describe this man until they were blue in the face, without making the hunt for Blade and Lorya much easier.

It was not a perfect plan, but it was by far the best Blade could manage with what he had. It would have to do.

The trail grew steadily wider, although it still sloped sharply downward. Blade urged the heuda up to a canter. Not for the first time, he was glad to be riding a heuda instead of a horse. A heuda could trot or canter on slopes where a horse would have to walk or risk breaking a leg.

As Blade rode out of the trees, the ground leveled out. Five hundred yards straight ahead lay the village. Blade urged the heuda up to a gallop and he was in the main street of the village, shouting war cries from half a dozen different Dimensions, before anyone there could react. He jerked the heuda to a stop so violently that it reared up on its hind legs in a spatter of mud.

«Ho!» he shouted. The silk mask over his face distorted his voice, but the sheer volume made everyone whirl to stare at him. He drew his sword and pointed it at the nearest grown man.

«You! I pass on the business of the Wizard!» The man started and swallowed hard at the mention of the forbidden name. «I need food, wine, and dry clothing. Bring it, and make haste or face the Wizard's wrath!»

The dozen people in the street scattered. They could not have run much faster if Blade had opened up on them with a machine gun., They were back within minutes, carrying armfuls of bread, cheese, and dried meat, skins of wine and beer, and enough clothing for a dozen men. Blade ordered them to put what they'd brought into sacks and tie the sacks to his saddle. He sat on his heuda as they worked, arms crossed on his chest, playing as well as he could the role of a master being waited on by his servants. His eyes never stopped scanning the street, though, and his hand never went far from the hilt of his sword. One Wolf, riding alone, might be too much of a temptation for some brave fool. That would be a disaster for everybody, starting with Blade himself.

Eventually sacks hung from Blade's saddle like ripe grapes. He brandished his sword in the air and the people scattered from around the heuda. Blade turned his mount and cantered back up the street, wishing he had eyes in the back of his head and half-expecting every moment to hear the whistle of an arrow. Damn it, there must be something these people would not endure from the Wizard or his Wolves!

He was clear of the village within minutes. He let the heuda climb the trail at a walk, for it was panting and sweat was making trails in the mud on its flanks. Finally he reached the place where he'd left Lorya. As silently as a forest spirit she came out of the trees and climbed up behind him, holding the ax across her lap.

They rode on for the rest of the afternoon and finally stopped deep in a stretch of virgin forest as it began to grow dark. Blade guessed they must have come a good twenty miles from Dodini and were about as safe as they could hope to be. Until the Wolves in Dodini knew which way the fugitives had gone, they'd be facing the job of searching an area the size of an English county. A hundred men couldn't do it. A thousand might, but it would take time to gather a thousand Wolves. In that time Blade and Lorya would be traveling on as fast as they could. Meanwhile, the Wolves gathering to search for them could not collect taxes and slaves or rape women elsewhere in Rentoro. By simply staying alive and on the move, Blade and Lorya would be interfering with the Wizard's ability to rule the land of Rentoro.

Unless the Wizard decided to ignore them completely? That didn't seem likely. The Wizard's power depended on the Wolves, and the Wolves' power depended on their ability to crush any rebellion the moment it reared its head. If those who'd slain three Wolves were allowed to go unpunished, who knew what might happen? One unpunished rebellion could inspire a dozen others-and there could be only so many of the Wolves.

No, he and Lorya would have the Wizard and the Wolves on their trail for a long time-perhaps as long as he was in this Dimension. Learning more about the Wizard was no longer just a matter of discovering his secrets-it was a matter of life and death.

With dry pith from the heart of a dead tree and flint and steel from the village, Blade was able to start a small fire. He dried kindling, then step by step built up the fire until it was blazing merrily. He pulled off his own clothes and hung them over branches stuck in the ground by the fire. Lorya took some of the clothes from the village and modestly retired behind a tree to pull them on. Then she hung her sodden shift over the branch and huddled as close to the fire as she dared while Blade prepared dinner.

They ate smoked meat, cheese, loaves of flat dark bread, and washed it all down with wine. The wine was raw, but it warmed them from inside as the fire warmed them from outside. When they'd eaten all they could, Blade wrapped a blanket around Lorya and put an arm across her shoulders in a brotherly fashion.

«Now, Lorya,» he said. «I have traveled to Rentoro from a distant land. I have been here for more than a week, and I still do not understand much of what I have seen. Indeed, I have seen nothing like the Wolves in any of the lands I have visited. Tell me about the Wolves and about the Wizard who is their master.»

Lorya shivered at hearing the name of the Wizard from Blade's lips. He tightened his arm around her and gently drew her head down on to his shoulder. «No, Lorya. I will not believe that the Wizard can punish us for saying his name.»

«You must believe it,» she said. «You must. He can. I know it.»

«You will have to tell me more,» said Blade. «How can the Wizard do this?»

«It is easy, when you are-«she hesitated.

«The Wizard,» said Blade firmly. «Get used to calling him by his proper name, and perhaps he will not seem so terrible.»

«That cannot be,» said Lorya. «He always has been terrible and always will be. By magic he sees all that happens in Rentoro, and by magic he sends the Wolves to punish his enemies. It has been so since my great-grandfather's time, and it will always be so.»

«Now it is my turn to say 'That cannot be,'» said Blade with a smile. «The Wizard of Rentoro sounds even stranger than his Wolves. Tell me about him.» His voice was low, but he used the brisk, firm tone of a man who would not argue any further.

So Lorya told him about the Wizard of Rentoro.