Sonea let out a sigh of frustration. Rothen groaned and leaned against the back of his chair. Silence filled the room. Nobody spoke. Osen’s gaze had shifted to the distance again. Rothen was rubbing his forehead.

Then all jumped at a loud knock at the door.

Osen waved a hand. The door opened and a Healer stepped inside. The young man looked at Sonea, smiled and hurried toward her, holding out a slip of paper.

“Forgive the interruption, Administrator,” he said. “I have an urgent message for Black Magician Sonea.”

She took the paper from him and nodded in reply as he bent into a shallow bow. He hurried from the room. When the door closed she looked down at the note, then unfolded it.

Your friend in the city says his friend has found the thing you’re after. You have to be at the old butcher’s building in Inner Westside by sunset. Bring your other friend.

If she’d been in a better mood she would have laughed at the vague and rather silly language. But this was the last thing she needed. How could she race off into the city to catch the rogue when Lorkin could be found at any moment?

A hand passed before her eyes and plucked the message from her. Her heart skipped, but it was only Rothen. He scanned the note, looked at her and narrowed his eyes in thought.

“How long until they backtrack to where the trail split?”

“A few hours,” Osen intoned, his gaze still fixed on far-away things.

“And then a few more before they travel as far down the next one. Shall we leave you to follow their progress, and return later?”

“Of course.” Osen snapped out of his trance and looked at them in turn. “I’m sorry. These blood stones are remarkably involving of the attention. I should have Dannyl take off the ring until he is close to finding Lorkin again.” He waved a hand. “Go.”

Rothen rose, then looked at Sonea. She stood up reluctantly. How can I leave now? But it’ll be hours before they catch up with Lorkin. I can’t sit here waiting while the rogue escapes. And if we don’t turn up and Cery confronts the rogue by himself, he might get hurt.

She forced herself to move, following Rothen to the door, then out into the corridor. Long shadows striped the Guild grounds outside the University doors. The Healer was waiting for her, smiling nervously as she noticed him. Rothen beckoned to the man.

“Has anyone contacted Lord Regin?” he murmured.

The young man frowned and shook his head. Rothen turned to Sonea. “Sunset is not far off. You had better go now. I’ll find Regin and send him to meet you at the hospice.”

Hospice. Of course. I can’t go straight to Inner Westside. Must maintain the ruse, in case this doesn’t work. That means we really don’t have much time…

The urgency of their mission seized her at last, and she shooed Rothen away. “Tell him to go straight there.” She turned to the Healer. “Did you come by carriage?”

He nodded. “It’s waiting outside for you.”

“Good man.” She smiled and rubbed her hands together. “Let’s go, then.”

It was Unh who had noticed the scatter of stalks beside the road, which he said might be feed that had spilled from a cart when it had stopped there. The local Ashaki hadn’t wanted to investigate, eager to chase after the cart, but Achati had sided with the tribesman, jokingly reminding them that Unh hadn’t been hired so that they had someone to ignore.

The tribesman found the tracks of three people wearing slave shoes – a man and two women – leading away from the road.

“I see this print at the last place,” Unh told them, pointing to a slight depression in the sandy ground. “The shape is longer and thinner than Sachakan foot, and there a hole under the heel.”

They had all been impressed with Unh. Now, hours later, they were not so pleased with him. After finding the tracks, they’d sent the carriages and horses on to the next estate with Achati’s driver, and continued on foot. At the tanner’s huts, they’d followed one of the three clear trails leading away. They’d been in a hurry because the sun was dipping toward the horizon, but it had made the tracker’s job harder. Long shadows, then twilight, made it difficult for him to make out the finer details of the footprints and other signs he was following. The Sachakans resisted creating a light for him, as it would make them visible from a distance in this exposed landscape. Nobody had been concerned, however, as the trail was still clear enough for them to follow it.

It was with a surge of triumph that Dannyl had spotted the figures in the distance. But the feeling hadn’t lasted long. It turned to dismay as he realised Lorkin was not among them.

Much cursing had followed. The Traitors they’d tracked were too far ahead to be caught and questioned, because doing so would take too much time, so Dannyl and his Sachakan helpers had hurried back to the huts. By then it was night, and creating a light for the tracker was unavoidable. To direct the light where he needed it they had to follow closely behind Unh, and several times they wound up trampling the signs he was looking for. It made the process of picking up the trail slow and difficult, so when Unh had lost the trail completely a few hours later, Achati decided they should camp for the night and continue after the sun rose.

The slaves dropped their burdens with obvious relief. But though they were obviously exhausted, their masters were more demanding than usual. The Ashaki groaned and complained, and had their slaves rub their legs and feet. At first Dannyl was puzzled, then he remembered that the one kind of magic the Sachakans didn’t possess knowledge of was Healing. While he had been soothing away the aches and pains and blisters of walking, they had no choice but to suffer.

I hadn’t realised how much of an advantage it is to us. It could be a significant one, if our countries were ever to fight each other, or another enemy. If we both have to trek to meet our foe, the Sachakans will be the only ones sore and tired from the effort.

The Duna tribesman abruptly rose and announced he was going to try locating the trail again. Achati looked at the others, saying that someone should go with him to keep them both shielded. Dannyl stood up.

“I’ll go. Unless you need me here?”

The magician shook his head. “Go. Keep your shield strong and don’t go too far. The Traitors may be watching us. They may not dare to kill anyone, but if they injured one or some of us we’d have to split up or slow down.”

Following Unh out of the camp, Dannyl created a globe light and set it hovering ahead of the man. He stayed several paces back and tried to step wherever the tribesman did so that he couldn’t possibly be trampling on any tracks but Unh’s. The distance between them made keeping both within a shield challenging.

The Sachakans had camped in a bowl-like hollow between two ridges. Unh made his way around the shorter arm of one ridge, keeping his eyes to the ground. After several paces he squatted and stared at the ground, then looked up at Dannyl and beckoned.

Dannyl closed the distance between them, then looked where Unh was pointing.

“See here,” the man said. “That stone has been stepped upon, then pushed back into the dirt. You can see the direction the stepper was going by the way there is a groove at the front, and a tiny mound at the back.”

It was rather obvious now that the man had pointed it out.

“How do you know it was a human and not an animal?”

Unh shrugged. “I don’t. It would have to be a big animal though, and most of those were hunted out long ago.”

He rose and went looking for more signs of passage. Dannyl followed, concentrating on holding the shield, directing the globe light, and walking only where the tribesman did. They stopped again and again, Unh pointing out a thread of cloth caught on one of the few stunted trees, some human hair, and some distinct footprints in a sandy area. Then he spent a long time examining the ground, and Dannyl used the opportunity to look around, trying not to imagine figures watching them in the darkness. He glanced to the side and felt a shiver run down his spine.