Risala surprised him with a faint grin. 'There's soap on the Zaise?

'And clean clothes,' Kheda agreed fervently. He rose to his feet, holding out a hand to Risala. 'Be careful. I shall want you alive to wash my back for me.'

'You're the one who needs to be careful,' she said tartly as she took his hand and stood. 'I'll be back well beyond the wildest slingshot with our valiant wizards.'

Which must surely be the safest place for you, even if that black dragon shows itself.

'Try to make Naldeth think twice before he does anything too impulsive.' Kheda raised a hand to beckon to the mages. All the wild warriors watched alertly as the two fair-skinned wizards walked across the enclosure.

'Have you any notion where the black dragon might be?' Kheda asked them without preamble.

'No.' Naldeth was still looking mutinous, his bloodshot gaze more off-putting than ever.

'Let's hope it's gone looking for easier meat.' Kheda tried for a grin.

'I wouldn't count on it,' Velindre said darkly.

Kheda decided not to pursue that. 'If this all goes horribly wrong, do your best to get yourselves away through magic or whatever other means you can, all three of you. If we get separated, you can scry for me later as long as you're sure it's quite safe to use a spell. Otherwise, hide for a day or so in the cave with the Zaise, but only as long as it's safe to do so. That's where I'll make for, if I possibly can.' He looked at each of them. 'If I don't turn up, set sail for home.'

'If we can't devise any means to find you,' the mage-woman said mildly.

/ suppose that's as close as I'll get to agreement. And I'll just have to trust you can keep your hoy there in hand.

'Then let's be about it.' Settling his sword and hacking blade securely in his twin-looped belt, Kheda walked away.

The savage warriors instantly gathered around him, more than one glancing enviously at the warlord's weapons. Those who'd shown most aptitude over the day or so's practice with the crude bows held them proudly, quivers of new arrows slung over their shoulders. The rest held spears and clubs, each with at least two weapons, sometimes more, a bantering edge to their incomprehensible words. Some men twirled slings idly in experienced hands, bags of pebbles tied at their waists. All were deferring to the scarred spearman, both newcomers and those who'd originally dwelt in the village.

Where did you go, my scarred friend, while your fellow hunters were making their bows and learning to shoot them? Were you recruiting all these others?

Kheda dismissed the irrelevance as they headed out of the enclosure. The warlord set as rapid a pace as he dared in the heat. The wild men matched him easily. As they passed through gaps in the spiny barrier, the older men left on guard called out encouragement before dragging the vicious thorns back together. The women waited in a silent group around the broad hearth, most faces impassive, a few betraying apprehension. An excited child earned an unduly sharp scolding from a tense grandmother. Once beyond the barricade, the savages spread out to negotiate the thistly plants and the thickets of spiny fingers.

The mages followed a few paces behind Kheda, Risala at his side for the moment. He glanced at her as they reached the open expanse dotted with the swollen barrel

trees with their ridiculous crowns of inadequate branches. 'You don't have to come,' he said quietly.

'Who's going to keep those two barbarians honest if        

I don't?' She looked ahead, jaw resolutely set. 'Besides, I         

won't risk not knowing what's happened to you. It's not as if there are any omens as to the possible outcome.'

Kheda had found no answer to that by the time they reached the edge of the steep slope down to the river valley. He searched the gently waving fronds of sparse         

grass for any sign of movement. A dark shape appeared and his hand went to his quiver. The scarred spearman raised a hand and called out softly. An answer came from the indistinct figure and Kheda saw all the spearmen nod to each other, reassured. A handful of men emerged from the tall grass and beckoned the rest down the slope, their faces eager. As the main contingent joined them, the scouts reached for gourds of the pale-yellowish grease, smearing themselves as the whole force hurried on through the thick tussocks.

'If they were scouting, why didn't they colour themselves earlier?' wondered Risala.

'Perhaps doing so is some declaration of war,' Kheda suggested.

'Perhaps it's some kind of talisman.' Risala looked down at the clay cracking on the dry skin of her hands. 'Their wizards painted themselves after all.'

'And most of those who attacked Chazen.' Kheda shook his head. 'There's no point in guessing. We still know nothing of their customs.'                                                        

Crossing the grasslands, Kheda's view shrank to a few paces ahead and to either side. Looking back, he tried to determine if the wizards were still together. They were but he soon lost sight of them. Trying to keep track of the disparate groups of spearmen making their way through the grasses also proved impossible. The wild men were

practised at moving with minimal sound or disturbance to the tall tussocks. Only the scarred spearman stayed close. He urged Kheda on with a jerk of his head, dark eyes as hard as the sharpened black stones that studded the club he carried.

Kheda tried to judge their speed to measure their progress across the plain. The thinning grasses as they arrived at the river bank still took him by surprise. He looked up and down the river to see Naldeth some distance upstream peering through the sparser concealment. The mage jumped down onto the muddy margin of the sluggish water and rapidly summoned up a walkway from the depths. The wild men pressed forward to run across this path and hide themselves once again in the grasses on the far northern side. Kheda scanned the sky apprehensively.

'They're splitting up,' Risala observed.

'It seems we did all understand the map I drew earlier.' Grim satisfaction took the edge off Kheda's trepidation.

The scarred spearman jumped down to the mud and Kheda followed, Risala close behind. The undercut edge of the far bank was already broken down by the hands and feet of the men gone before them. Kheda stood tall to try to make out the cave-dwellers' rocky outcrop. It was still hidden among the fringe of forest beyond the sere plain. The scarred spearman clucked his tongue with irritation and forced the warlord down with an unforgiving hand. Risala was already crouching low. As the yellow grasses filled his vision, a rush of water made Kheda look round. With all the wild warriors safely across the river, Velindre was making her way along the silty path. Naldeth brought up the rear with the muddy waters swirling around his sandalled foot and his steel one as the river reclaimed its course to the sea..

Kheda took a moment to clasp Risala's hand. 'Stay with them now, please.'

As she slipped away backwards, the scarred spearman pushed Kheda on. Wild warriors on all sides were running faster now, sacrificing stealth for speed. A dun-coloured bird sprang up from the tussocks with a shrill cry of alarm and a rattle of wings. A horny-backed lizard dashed across Kheda's path, a thick mouthful of grass still clamped in its jaws.

Lizards that eat grass?

He had no time to ponder this puzzle as the scarred spearman drove him on with a shove in the small of his back. Kheda sweated uncomfortably beneath the greasy ointment disguising his face. His tunic clung to his back and a cloud of tiny black flies clustered around his head. The scarred spearman drew level with the warlord, heedless of the insects crawling around his own eyes and nose. He was intent on the trackless grasses ahead. Kheda noted that the vicious grass blades were scraping at the grease coating his arms and legs but didn't appear to be drawing blood.