"No," declared the leader, studying Foryth Teel's slender figure. "I'm curious. Why weren't you frightened enough to go farther away? Instead, you build a fire that we can smell for a mile down the road! And what was all that about wanting to take notes?"

"I'm merely a humble researcher, attempting to conduct studies in the field."

"Studies?" Kelryn stared curiously at Foryth Teel. "You've picked a rather strange place for your library, stranger."

"The true historian must be willing to journey to strange places."

The one called Kelryn acted as if he hadn't heard. "You had a partner?" he mused, still studying Foryth Teel. "And all the time I thought you were alone."

He turned to regard the youth. Despite the man's smooth forehead, his strong chin and mouthful of clean white teeth, Danyal recalled-and confirmed-his earlier impression: This was a very dangerous fellow indeed. His eyes were dark and hooded, utterly devoid of compassion or any other human emotion. When he smiled, the expression seemed to Danyal like the toothy grin of a hungry cat.

The youth sensed that the situation had spun far beyond his control. "I wasn't traveling with-"

"This is my squire," Foryth interjected smoothly. "As a precaution, I had directed him to camp some distance away from my own sleeping place. I find it easier to complete my studies in solitude."

"Bah!" Zack was still impatient. The frightening man with the knife felt the edge of his blade, and his one eye shone with eagerness as he regarded Danyal. "Like I says, boss, let's be done about it."

Again the leader chose to ignore his henchman's suggestion. "What is the nature of your research?" he inquired instead.

Foryth Teel seemed quite willing to explain. "I journey to find a man, once a false priest of the Seeker cults, who is rumored to dwell in these mountains, in a place called Loreloch. I wish to converse with him on a matter of mutual interest."

"I see. It may be that I can help you. What is the nature of your business with the Master of Loreloch?"

"I seek information on matters regarding the ancient wizard Fistandantilus, who has been long dead from our world," Foryth was saying. "It is said that this Seeker is quite an authority on the topic." "And you have come to sit at his feet?" "Er, in a manner of speaking, yes. I have devoted many years of study to stories of the archmage. I had hoped his knowledge might help me to fill some of the gaps in my research."

Kelryn laughed easily, and Danyal saw those hooded eyes brighten with the first light of enthusiasm, of genuine feeling, that the youth had seen there. "I believe he might be willing to meet you. If, that is, I let you live."

"What about the kid?" whined Zack, plaintively. "Can I stick him?"

Danyal edged away from the one-eyed bandit and his sharp knife, but the rock wall of the grotto brought his movement to a sharp halt.

"I should say not!" Surprisingly, it was Foryth who answered. "My work requires the presence of my squire, else there is no way that I should be able to compile my notes and maintain a precise record. I need the lad."

"It seems to me that we can make other arrangements for your assistance," Kelryn said, shaking his head dis-missively. "And truthfully, if Zack doesn't get his regular entertainment, he can become rather… disagreeable. I think I should give him the boy."

Danyal's stomach churned in fear, even as he realized that he found the bored manner of Kelryn's words even more frightening than Zack's leering cruelty.

"Tsk, tsk." Foryth shook his head, though Danyal thought the historian didn't seem terribly agitated. "Remember, there is the matter of the reward…"

"And what reward would that be?" Kelryn asked, staring intently at the priest-historian.

"Why, the ransom that my temple would be willing to pay for myself and my squire."

"What temple?" Zack spun, crouching as he faced Foryth. Danyal took advantage of the bandit's turn to draw several deep breaths, grateful for the clean night air. He watched, heart pounding, as the men continued to talk.

"Why, the Golden Palace of Gilean in Palanthas, of course. The patriarch of my order would be more than willing to ransom two of its lost sheep, should they be assured that neither of us has suffered harm in your

hands."

"He's lying!" snarled Zack, his glaring eye swiveling back and forth between the historian and the youth.

"I'm not so sure," mused Kelryn Darewind, speaking to his henchman. "In truth, it seems that the temple masters might well be inclined to protect these lives with coin of good steel."

He regarded Foryth questioningly. "For the sake of argument, what manner of reward are we discussing?"

The historian shrugged. "I cannot say with any accuracy. This is a situation unique in my experience. However, you can always send a message of inquiry. While we're waiting for the reply, perhaps I can effectuate an interview with the Master of Loreloch."

Danyal watched the exchange with a mixture of disbelief, amazement, and fear. He was astounded that these men could discuss matters of life and death with such aplomb. At the same time, he felt as though he was a very unimportant piece in the game that was being enacted before him.

"Hey! They've got a horse over here!" A voice called from the darkness, and other shadowy forms moved through the woods, drawn toward the source of the sound. Abruptly the night was split by a loud whinny, followed by a bone-crunching smack and a very human wail of pain and fear. Brush cracked and a body tumbled into view, a bandit who clutched the limp, twisted shape of his left arm as he collapsed on the ground and moaned.

More whinnies rang from the darkness, followed by curses, smashes, and finally the sound of rapidly receding hoofbeats clattering up the streamside trail. Three more bandits came into view, dragging a fourth, the latter bleeding heavily from a gash on the forehead. In another moment, another man crawled out of the woods, pulled himself onto a stump, and proceeded to wrap a filthy cloth around his knee as he cursed beneath his breath. "Eh, Gnar," chortled Zack. "Break yer leg, did ya?" "Bah! It'll set just fine!" growled the other, though the grimace tightening his face served to belie his bold words. He looked at Zack, then Kelryn, and Dan was surprised to catch a glimpse of the naked fear on the man's face.

"That was no normal horse. It was a beast possessed by a demon!" snapped the bandit with the broken arm, painfully rising to a sitting position. "I swear I saw fire come out of its mouth!"

"And it crushed my knee with a hammer," moaned Gnar, drawing his bandage tight. Meanwhile, the man whose head had been gashed by the hoof moaned and pressed his hands to the swelling lump of his face.

"A spirited animal, that's all," spat another, a stocky, mustachioed man with a short bow and quiver of arrows. He looked at his fellows in scorn. "You're just not fit to hold the halter of a horse like that!"

"Why didn't you take the rope, then, Garald?" asked Kelryn smoothly.

"I tried, lord-I tried. But these fools had made such a mess of things that by the time I got there the animal had broken free. There'll be no catching it, at least on foot."

"Your horse?" Kelryn inquired, regarding Foryth with a raised eyebrow. "Undoubtedly the creature responsible for the attack against us at your first camp?"

"Er-" Foryth, who had winced and cringed at the sound of Nightmare's escape, looked around awkwardly.

"Our horse," Danyal blurted quickly. "I'm the squire, so I take care of her. Her name is Nightmare," he added, suppressing the urge to grin at the damage the mean-spirited animal had inflicted on these ruffians.

"Apt," replied Kelryn, his tone droll.

"Enough o' this!" snarled the one-eyed bandit, Zack. "Are we goin' to stick 'em and be on our way?" His filthy thumb, still caressing the edge of the big knife, left no doubt as to what Zack's desire was.