Blade felt better about walking into the ambush after watching the Elstani at work for a few days. They were clearly as much at home in the forest as Lorma herself, able to hide so well that neither man nor cat could be sure of detecting them until it was too late.

There were fifteen men in the Elstani party led by Daimarz. All of them were of the Woodcutters' Guild, and they were as tough and well disciplined as soldiers. With their job, they had to be.

The killer plants spread themselves by firing seeds from seed pods hidden high in their upper branches. When the pods were ripe, they were triggered by the rising sun. So the plants tended to spread toward the east, creeping up on Elstan's already inadequate farm and grazing lands like a slow tide. The woodcutters' job was to beat back this tide.

Fortunately they didn't have to deal with the groves, at least not now. There'd been groves established in Elstani territory a century ago, but somehow they'd been successfully attacked since then. Blade had the distinct feeling that whatever they'd used on the groves was something they didn't want to talk about in the presence of someone from Jaghd, even if he was a prisoner.

The seedlings, half-grown plants, and full-grown rogues were enough work for any reasonable man. Dealing with the younger plants was more tedious than dangerous. A single team of woodcutters might find more than a thousand of them in the course of a week's Cutting. It took sharp eyes to pick them out of the surrounding jungle, hoes for the smaller ones, axes for the larger ones, and a lot of muscle and sweat no matter what size they were. The plants were tough as well as prolific.

The rogues were a far more dangerous proposition, even for strong, well-trained men working together in teams. The woodcutters were careful to leave Blade out of sight whenever they tackled a rogue, afraid to let a Jaghd in on their secrets. Blade could still guess most of what happened from listening to the sounds of the fight and what the woodcutters said afterward.

The woodcutters met the rogues head-on. They took their axes and hacked their way into the network of creepers. When the kill-pods came down they stood their ground and turned the axes against them. When the killpods were all gone, they advanced still farther, to the base of the trunk. A last few minutes' work with the axes, and the rogue was dead.

Blade didn't need to hear the woodcutters talking to know how many things could go wrong. Under attack, the killer plants could move their pods much faster than the one he'd fought. A man who got even one arm trapped by the creepers could have a pod closing on him before any one could chop a path to him. A man who was unlucky enough to be pulled down was as good as dead. He might have comrades only a spear's length from him, but if they were fighting for their lives against creepers and pods they couldn't help him.

That was why so many of the woodcutters carried powerful crossbows. Half a dozen archers always stayed out of reach of the creepers, bows ready. A brisk shower of bolts could sometimes discourage a kill-pod. If not, a bolt through the head or the heart was a more merciful death than the killer plants gave a man.

Daimarz's band didn't have any dead to mourn while Blade was with them. But one man was blinded by acid from a kill-pod as they attacked a stand of three rogues growing toward each other. That time Blade smelled smoke and something like burning tar near the end of the battle. The men came back with their already dark skins nearly black with soot, and they talked less than usual about what they'd done.

Apart from not allowing Blade to prove he was telling the truth about the amulets, the woodcutters treated him well enough. They gave him enough food and water, and left his hands untied whenever there were enough men around to guard him. He also discovered that even when he was tied the bar and cords were light enough so that he could break loose if he had to. That would look like a violation of his oath, so he didn't plan to do it except in an emergency where he needed both hands free. After he volunteered to help carry the blinded man's stretcher, they left him untied at least half the day.

A drizzling rain was falling as the party set out on the morning of Blade's tenth day with the woodcutters. Everybody was walking a little faster than before, in spite of their fatigue. They were on the way home, with no more work between them and the hot meals they'd be eating tomorrow night. Their packs were light and even the tools they still had to carry didn't seem a burden any more. They would have been moving even faster if they hadn't been trying a new route through some hills rather than around them. It was Daimarz's idea to try out this new route, the sort of thing he did quite often. Since he was the son of the Master of the Woodcutters, he'd come by his curiosity honestly.

Blade didn't quarrel with scientific curiosity, but thought Daimarz hadn't chosen the best time or place to indulge it. His men were tired, their tools made an awkward load, and the best route through the hills seemed to lie halfway up a steep slope. Above was a nearly vertical hillside, below a sharp drop into a mist-shrouded valley, and underfoot slick grass and gluey mud.

The effort of carrying the stretcher on the uncertain footing made even Blade sweat. After an hour Daimarz had him relieved. «I'd rather have my hands free,» Blade said as they approached to tie him again. «Where would I go on this slope?»

Daimarz shook his head. «On the slope, nowhere. But down there-«he pointed into the mist «-who knows? You'd be impossible to catch the moment you were out of sight. That might be too much temptation even for an honest man. And no, I won't give you the amulet either.»

As soon as Blade was tied up, the march started again. Blade was muttering under his breath, and felt closer to breaking his oath than ever before. He still had to get to Elstan and give the warning, but he'd begun to feel that he might do the job better striking out on his own. Daimarz was brave, honest, and a fine leader, but right now he was also being much too stubborn for his people's good!

One careful plodding step followed another. The rain grew heavier, and it seemed to Blade that the mist in the valley below was getting thicker. Having his hands tied behind him made keeping his balance a good deal more difficult than it should have been. At least the ache in his shoulders from carrying the stretcher was fading.

Blade felt the ground move under him before he heard the cries of the men or the dreadful sucking sound. He threw himself uphill with all his strength, nearly wrenching a shoulder as he landed. The men in front of him and behind him followed his example and came down beside him. Blade was the first to raise his head, hear the cries get louder, and see Daimarz and the first six men in the line slowly vanish into the mist as the rain-soaked hillside slid into the valley.

The rest of the party seemed to be on firmer ground. Blade was relieved to hear the cries of the men caught in the landslip continuing. Apparently they'd gone down so slowly that they'd been able to keep from being buried alive under the mud. The blind man, the only really helpless one in the party, was still safe. The rest should be able to climb back up.

«Help!» came a terrified shout from down below. «Help us! There's a rogue down here! We've landed in a rogue! Help!» Blade had never heard any of the woodcutters sounding so close to panic.