An idea occurred to him. "We don't want the shadevari to find me too easily, do we, Mista?" he said with a harsh laugh. "That wouldn't be any fun for them. Maybe there's a way to make my trail a little harder to follow."

Mista gave a snort.

"Just watch," Caledan replied.

He gripped the Shadowstar more tightly and hummed a dissonant tune under his breath. Mista pranced skittishly as a patch of shadow near her hooves swirled expanded. Like dark serpents, a dozen sinuous forms sprang from the patch of shadow. The forms wriggled swiftly away, each in a different direction, snaking across the High Moor until they were lost in the distance.

"There," Caledan said in grim satisfaction, releasing the Shadowstar. "The shadevari won't be able to distinguish my trail from any of those shadowserpents. That should keep them guessing which way I've gone, at least for a little while."

Mista gave an impressed whinny.

"Why, thank you." Caledan patted her neck fondly. Slowly his eyes rose toward the far-off horizon.

"All right, my friend," he whispered. "Let's go."

*****

Concealed inside a heavy cloak, K'shar watched the crimson tent from a distance. At last the half-elf's patience was rewarded. The tent's entrance flap parted a few scant inches, and he caught a glimpse of a face peering out. After a moment, the face vanished. However, ths glimpse had been more than enough for his sharp golden eyes. He knew the watcher in the tent from the description given by a soldier he had interrogated in Triel. It was one of Al'maren's companions, the thief Jewel. His quarry must still be in Soubar. Anticipation boiled in K'shar's veins. The chase was nearly over. For a time, in the tangled depths of the Reaching Woids, he had feared that the unthinkable had happened, that he had lost his prey. The trail had led to a ruined city where he had seen evidence of a battle with some sort of doglike creatures. The signs indicated that the companions had crossed the River Reaching, but by what means K'shar could not discern. For two days he searched for a way across the roiling river and found none. At last he was forced to give up and return to the Dusk Road. Just as he was growing concerned that his quarry had escaped him, he picked up the trail once again in Triel. Running night and day, he had journeyed swiftly to Soubar. Now it appeared that he had caught up wit them at last.

"You are a worthy opponent, Harper Al'maren," he murmured, baring his slightly pointed teeth in a feral smile. "But no one can elude me forever." Soundlessly, he moved to the entrance of the crimson tent and slipped within. His eyes adjusted instantly to the dim interior. But the tent was empty. Alarm flared in his mind. Something was wrong…

Too late he realized it was a trap. There was a hissing sound as the floor dropped from beneath him, and he fell through a series of steel hoops to land upright. Then the metal hoops tightened forcefully around his body, clamping his arms to his sides and immobilizing him. From behind, a hand reached out and pressed an acrid-smelling cloth over his mouth and nose. Reflexively, he inhaled.

You fool, Kshar! he chastised himself. You have grown lazy and thoughtless in your arrogance. Never did you consider that Al'maren might figure out you were following her. Never did you consider that she might lay a trap…

Quickly, the pungent vapors from the cloth did their work, and K'shar sank into unconsciousness.

After a time, he woke to the sound of voices.

For a moment he listened, eyes closed. The voices were far-off, so faint that no human ear could possibly hear them. Fortunately, K'shar's ears were more than merely human.

"Now that we have him, what do we do with him?" a smoky, feminine voice said. That could only be the thief, Jewel.

"Well, how should I know?" a bubbling male voice replied. K'shar guessed that one belonged to the corpulent crime lord, Cormik.

"I thought you were the one who was always full of ideas," Jewel said peevishly.

"Even the best of us have our off days," Cormik whined. "I'd rather not win the undying enmity of the Harpers killing their best Hunter. However, we have to make certain K'shar doesn't follow the others into the High Moor. They've got only a day's jump on him, and they…"

K'shar's amber eyes flashed open. He did not bother listening to the rest of Cormik's words. There was no need. Al'maren was journeying to the High Moor, only single day ahead of him. That was all he needed to know.

Now there was simply the small matter of escaping. He was in an underground chamber, he guessed by the chill, musty air. They had left him alone, no doubt expecting the effect of the drug to last longer than it had. K'shar knew his metabolism worked more swiftly than that of a normal human. He was suspended upright from the chamber's ceiling, still immobilized by the steel bands bound tightly around ankles, knees, waist, torso, and shoulders. Shutting his eyes, he concentrated, drifting into a trance.

Focusing on his thrumming heartbeat, he forced his body to relax, willing his muscles to become as soft and malleable as clay. One by one, they responded. Soon it felt as if he were adrift in a warm ocean. He was ready. Gathering his will, he gave a swift, sharp jerk, dislocating his left shoulder. There was a wet popping noise, but almost no pain. Without hesitating he jerked again, dislocating his right shoulder.

Now that his arms dangled loosely, it was easy to fold his shoulders inward, like a severely hunched old man. This created precious inches of space within the three steel rings that bound his upper body. Slowly he inched his left arm out of the rings that encircled his waist, his midriff, and finally his shoulders. This created yet more space within the rings; his right arm was more easily freed. He took a deep breath, then clenched the muscles of his back and shoulders. There was an audible sucking sound as the round ends of his arm bones were drawn once more into the sockets of his shoulder joints. He would be sore tomorrow, but it did not matter. Arms free, he reached up and gripped the iron chain that suspended the steel hoops from the ceiling. He hauled himself upward, his relaxed muscles allowing him to slip out of the rings that bound his legs, and dropped nimbly down to the floor.

Now all he had to do was find a way out of the room.

This presented itself in the form of a ventilation shaft. Clearly, his captors had never imagined he might escape his bonds, else they would have placed him in a more secure chamber. Most men would not have fit into the shaft but, though tall, K'shar was willow-thin. He pulled himself into the narrow tunnel and wriggled his way upward. Aided by his uncanny flexibility, K'shar passed through several tight turns with little difficulty. He pulled himself out of the mouth of the shaft onto muddy ground, gazing into the crimson eye of the dawning sun.

K'shar stretched his limbs as the flow of blood returned to his hands and feet. His prey was close now. Very close. He felt a strange sense of kinship with the renegade Harper he had been following. When he met her at last, he imagined he would almost regret killing her. Almost.

"I am coming, Al'maren," he whispered softly.

He broke into a swift run, moving northward out of Soubar.

Sixteen

The four riders picked their way across the bleak expanse of the High Moor. The rough terrain looked as if it had been shattered by a war among giants. Long stretches of treacherous scree gave way suddenly to jagged chasms that sliced across the ground like gaping wounds. More than once they had been forced to travel miles out of their way to find passage. Despite the harshness of the moor, a sprinkling of moss and lichens clung to the rocks, softening the landscape like a gray-green veil. Mari had never before seen such a melancholy land. Yet it was also lovely. She marveled at the stark contrast of sorrow and beauty dwelling side by side, each blending into the other so that she could not possibly have said from which arose the aching in her heart. She sighed, her breath turning to mist in the cold air.