Whatever his other faults, the man was not stupid, I reminded myself. “Or Kellarin.”

Darni grunted and continued his careful needlework. “We need to know exactly what this enchanter is doing before we can counter him.”

“Whatever they are planning, they didn’t want to risk us getting wind of it,” observed Sorgrad. “Bet you a penny to a pack-load that’s why we got thrown out of Hachalfess.”

“And he had Sheltya doing his dirty work there.” ’Gren stripped off his jerkin and folded it around the soiled front. “That tall piece with the haughty manner at very least.”

“So what are they up to?” All I met were blank looks, even from Usara, though that changed back to clench-jawed endurance in the next instant.

“That’ll do,” said Darni with satisfaction, snipping off his thread. “Now we have to tell Planir what is going on.” He stuck his sword into damp leaf mold to clean it, scraping out a hollow in the black earth where he buried the stained remnants of his shirt. “We don’t have much of a tale though.” He sucked his teeth in an unattractive manner.

“We’ve more than you think.” I hesitated; this was hard to put into words. “When the woman threw us out of Hachalfess, do you recall the others with her, who didn’t show their faces? One of them was that selfsame enchanter I just tried to gut, I’m sure of it.” I clasped my hands together to stop them shaking.

“You didn’t say anything at the time,” said Sorgrad cautiously.

“I only realized when I saw him today.” I looked at my hands, pleased to see them steady again. “There was something nagging at the back of my mind about what happened at Hachalfess, but every time I tried to think about it I got jittery, worrying about going back up into the heights, about having aetheric magic used against me. You know I’m not given to fretting, and anyway, it all stopped as soon as I knocked that bastard off the board with the tahn. He was messing with my mind somehow, I’ll bet any purse.” Anger outweighed any other considerations now.

“You’re sure of this?” Darni’s skepticism was ill hidden behind his thick beard.

“Guinalle told me the easiest way to manipulate a mind is to enhance fears or desires already present,” said Usara thoughtfully. “Which is strictly forbidden,” he added hastily.

“Sheltya do it,” said Sorgrad, grim-faced. “When they are punishing someone.”

“So you can place this enchanter with the woman. What’s the significance?” Darni was sticking to the original scent with characteristic tenacity. “What we need to know is whether or not we’ve still got them on our tail!”

“I can scry for them,” Usara said slowly. “I’d prefer it if we can find a different medium to use. I don’t fancy working in a handful of my own blood again.”

“You know, that was brilliant.” Gilmarten looked up from studying the laces on his boots. “I would never have thought of that, and if you hadn’t been able to find that man we could have been utterly lost.”

Usara smiled deprecatingly. “After you have run into aetheric magic a few times, you become more used to the notion that your senses may betray you under its influence. When it seemed I could not see any of you, I knew I had to turn to more certain means of sight.”

“You couldn’t have done it without the shielding chant Ryshad taught you,” I pointed out.

“It was a little more than that,” said Usara with an irritating superiority. “Guinalle and I have made considerable study of the ways we can ward ourselves against Artifice.”

“Magic only gets you so far.” Sorgrad was unimpressed. “Livak stuck the knife in him.”

“Only because Gilmarten put her next to him,” countered Darni, mage’s man speaking up in defense of his paymasters.

“I think Gilmarten’s simulacrum of her was equally crucial,” Usara winced as he foolishly tried to flex his leg.

“Yes, you’re all very clever,” interrupted ’Gren impatiently. “So, work your magic, Sandy, and find out if they’re coming after us!”

Usara heaved a sigh and knuckled his eyes before sweeping meager strands of hair off his face. “Do we have something that will hold water with enough surface for scrying? Does anyone have any ink?”

Gilmarten wordlessly offered a little silver mounted and stoppered horn from the capacious bag at his belt. Darni stood up, frowning. “I had any number of things in my pack,” he muttered crossly. “Cursed useless horses, no training worth their oats.”

Sorgrad began turning out pockets in the breast of his jerkin. “There’s no rim to this but if I can find a decent stone—” He held out a metal mirror the size of my hand.

“He always likes to know he’s looking his best, my brother,” mocked ’Gren.

“And to have means to send a signal, dazzle a pursuer, see around a corner in case the Watch are waiting,” Sorgrad nodded in similar vein. “And to make sure I look good for the ladies, obviously.”

Darni was unamused. “That’s never going to hold water.”

“If I might assist.” Gilmarten reached for the mirror. The Soluran mage studied it carefully from both sides and then held it between his palms. A faint smile curved his lips as he concentrated and then he handed the metal back to Usara, now dished like a spoon. I half expected the water to steam or bubble as Usara poured it carefully in, but rather disappointingly it didn’t. Usara lifted the little bowl to study the underside, peering closely.

“You can swap notes later,” I pointed out. “The scrying?”

Usara peered into the shallow water, face dappled with greenish lights striking up from the silver. “No sign of pursuit,” he said finally. “The road is clear, as far as I can see.” He frowned. “But I can’t find the place where we were attacked. I know I broke up the surface of the road and Gilmarten’s air spells would surely have left some sign.”

“Aetheric enchantment,” I said grimly. Wizard’s magic was going to be a lot less useful if Artifice could help people hide from it.

Usara ignored me, leaning ever closer over the bowl, but his hands suddenly shook and emerald radiance slopped over the side, falling to vanish into the ground.

“That’s enough.” Darni leaned forward and took the little dish from the unresisting mage and tipped out the inky water. “We can try again later when ’Sar’s had some rest.”

“You give it a go.” ’Gren shook Gilmarten’s shoulder with brisk encouragement.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much facility with the arts of water,” the Soluran mage said hesitantly. “In Soluran tradition we keep far closer to working our natural element.”

I could see frustration building in ’Gren’s face. “Come on, let’s see if we can find anything to eat around here.” I pulled him away down the game trail.

“Those wizards may burn hot and bright when they get started but they’re soon down to ash,” he grumbled, kicking at some inoffensive bush.

“Be fair,” I told him firmly. “The kind of magic they were flinging around earlier takes a lot out of them. They can faint dead away if they overdo it and I don’t think we want that.”

“I’m here to take on any Elietimm fancying his luck,” ’Gren said aggressively.

“Yes, but that’s because you don’t have the sense to know when you’re killed, let alone exhausted,” I pointed out.

He grinned at me. “It’s the way Misaen made me.”

“Well, be grateful he made mages the way he did.” I looked around in vain for some plant I might recognize as edible. I should have paid more attention to the foraging women of the Forest Folk. “Otherwise they’d be ruling the world by now.” My words struck an echo somewhere in my memory. “Otrick on why wizards don’t rule the world.”

’Gren looked quizzically at me. “What?”

“Never mind.” I pointed to a bush dotted with scarlet fruit. “Do you suppose we can eat those?”

’Gren picked one and ate it before I could stop him. “Tastes like a driftberry.”

I sniffed cautiously at one. Smaller and darker but it did smell like a driftberry. I set about gathering them in a fold of my shirt. Perhaps one of the wizards would be able to tell for sure. ’Gren helped, eating plenty as he did so. I didn’t bother suggesting caution to him.