The Ruby Knight

by David Eddings

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ Sparhawk asked Sephrenia, absently rubbing the ring finger on his left hand. It seemed to be throbbing for some reason.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ Sephrenia frowned. ‘It’s almost as if she’s afraid of something.’

  After they had eaten and Sephrenia had carried Flute’s supper in to her, Sparhawk closely questioned each of his injured companions. They all claimed perfect health, a claim he was sure was spurious. ‘All right, then.’ He gave up finally. ‘We’ll go back to doing it the old way. You gentlemen can have your armour back, and we’ll try a canter tomorrow. No galloping; no running; and if we run into any trouble, try to hold back unless things get serious.’

  ‘He’s just like an old mother hen, isn’t he?’ Kalten observed to Tynian.

  ‘If he scratches up a worm, you get to eat it,’ Tynian replied.

  ‘Thanks all the same, Tynian,’ Kalten declined, ‘but I’ve already had my supper.’

  Sparhawk went to bed.

  It was about midnight, and the moon was very bright outside the tent. Sparhawk sat bolt upright in his blankets, jolted awake by a hideous, roaring bellow.

  ‘Sparhawk!’ Ulath said sharply from outside the tent. ‘Rouse the others! Fast!’

  Sparhawk shook Kalten awake and pulled on his mail-shirt. He grabbed up his sword and ducked out of the tent. He looked around quickly and saw that the others needed no rousing. They were already struggling into their mail and were taking up weapons. Ulath stood at the edge of camp, his round shield in place and his axe in his hand. He was looking off intently into the darkness.

  Sparhawk joined him. ‘What is it?’ he asked quietly. ‘What makes a noise like that?’

  ‘Troll,’ Ulath replied shortly.

  ‘Here? In Pelosia? Ulath, that’s impossible. There aren’t any Trolls in Pelosia.’

  ‘Why don’t you go out there and explain that to him?’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s a Troll?’

  ‘I’ve heard that sound too many times to miss it. It’s a Troll, all right, and he’s absolutely enraged about something.’

  ‘Maybe we should build up the fire,’ Sparhawk suggested as the others joined them.

  ‘It wouldn’t do any good,’ Ulath said. ‘Trolls aren’t afraid of fire.’

  ‘You know their language, don’t you?’

  Ulath grunted.

  ‘Why don’t you call to him and tell him that we mean him no harm?’

  ‘Sparhawk,’ Ulath said with a pained look, ‘in this situation, it’s the other way around. If he attacks, try to strike at his legs,’ he warned them all. ‘If you swing at his body, he’ll jerk your weapons out of your hands and feed them to you. All right, I’ll try to talk with him.’ He lifted his head and bellowed something in a horrid, guttural language.

  Something out there in the darkness replied, snarling and spitting.

  ‘What did it say?’ Sparhawk asked.

  ‘He’s cursing. It may take him an hour or so to get finished. Trolls have a lot of swear-words in their language.’ Ulath frowned. ‘He doesn’t really sound all that sure of himself,’ he said, sounding puzzled.

  ‘Perhaps our numbers are making it cautious,’ Bevier suggested.

  ‘They don’t know what the word means,’ Ulath disagreed. ‘I’ve seen a lone Troll attack a walled city.’

  There was another snarling bellow from out in the darkness, this time a little closer.

  ‘Now, what’s that supposed to mean?’ Ulath said in bafflement.

  ‘What?’ Sparhawk asked.

  ‘He’s demanding that we turn the thief over to him.’

  ‘Talen?’

  ‘I don’t know. How could Talen pick a Troll’s pocket? They don’t have pockets.’

  Then they heard the sound of Flute’s pipes coming from Sephrenia’s tent. Her melody was stern and vaguely threatening. After a moment, the beast out in the darkness howled – a sound partially of pain and partially of frustration. Then the howling faded off into the distance.

  ‘Why don’t we all go to Sephrenia’s tent and kiss that little girl about the head and shoulders for a while?’ Ulath suggested.

  ‘What happened?’ Kalten asked.

  ‘Somehow she ran him off. I’ve never seen a Troll run from anything. I saw one try to attack an avalanche once. I think we’d better talk with Sephrenia. Something’s going on here that I don’t understand.’

  Sephrenia, however, was as puzzled as they. She was holding Flute in her arms, and the little girl was crying. ‘Please, gentlemen,’ the Styric woman said softly, ‘just leave her alone for now. She’s very, very upset.’

  ‘I’ll stand watch with you, Ulath,’ Tynian said as they came out of the tent. ‘That bellow froze my blood. I’ll never get back to sleep now.’

  They reached the city of Venne two days later. Once the Troll had been frightened away, they neither saw nor heard any further sign of him. Venne was not a very attractive city. Because local taxes were based on the number of square feet on the ground floor of each house, the citizens had circumvented the law by building overhanging second storeys. In most cases, the overhang was so extreme that the streets were like narrow, dark tunnels, even at noon. They put up at the cleanest inn they could find, and Sparhawk took Kurik and went in search of information.

  For some reason, however, the word ‘Ghasek’ made the citizens of Venne very nervous. The answers Sparhawk and Kurik received were vague and contradictory, and the citizens usually went away from them very fast.

  ‘Over there,’ Kurik said shortly, pointing at a man staggering from the door of a tavern. ‘He’s too drunk to run.’

  Sparhawk looked critically at the reeling man. ‘He could also be too drunk to talk,’ he added.

  Kurik’s methods, however, were brutally direct. He crossed the street, seized the drunkard by the scruff of the neck, dragged him to the end of the street and shoved his head into the fountain that stood there. ‘Now, then,’ he said pleasantly, ‘I think we understand each other. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to give me the answers – unless you can figure out a way to sprout gills.’

  The fellow was spluttering and coughing. Kurik pounded on his back until the paroxysm passed.

  ‘All right,’ Kurik said, ‘the first question is “Where is Ghasek?”’

  The drunken man’s face went pasty white, and his eyes bulged in horror.

  Kurik shoved his head under water again. ‘This is starting to make me very tired,’ he said conversationally to Sparhawk, looking across the bubbles coming up out of the fountain. He pulled the fellow out by the hair. ‘This isn’t going to get any more enjoyable, friend,’ he warned. ‘I really think you ought to start to co-operate. Let’s try again. Where is Ghasek?’

  ‘N-north,’ the fellow choked, spewing water all over the street. He seemed to be almost sober now.

  ‘We know that. Which road do we take?’

  ‘Go out of the north gate. A mile or so after you get out of town, the road branches. Take the left fork.’

  ‘You’re doing fine. See, you’re even staying sort of dry. How far is it to Ghasek?’

  ‘A-about forty leagues.’ The man writhed in Kurik’s iron grip.

  ‘Last question,’ Kurik promised. ‘Why does everybody in Venne wet himself whenever he hears the name Ghasek?’

  ‘I-it’s a horrible place. Things happen there that are too hideous to describe.’

  ‘I’ve got a strong stomach,’ Kurik assured him. ‘Go ahead. Shock me.’

  ‘They drink blood up there – and bathe in it – and even feed on human flesh. It’s the most awful place in the world. Even to mention its name brings down a curse on your head.’ The man shuddered and began to weep.

  ‘There, there,’ Kurik said, releasing him and patting him gently on the shoulder. He gave the man a coin. ‘You seem to have got all wet, friend,’ he added. ‘Why don’t you go back to the tavern and see if you can get dry?’

&nbs
p; The fellow scurried off.

  ‘Doesn’t sound like too pleasant a place, does it?’ Kurik said.

  ‘No, not really,’ Sparhawk admitted, ‘but we’re going there all the same.’

  Chapter 13

  Because the road they proposed to follow was reputed to be not very good, they arranged to leave the wagon with the innkeeper and rode out on horseback the next morning through shadowy streets illuminated by torches. Sparhawk had passed on the information Kurik had wrung out of the drunken man the day before, and they all looked around warily as they passed out through the north gate of Venne.

  ‘It’s probably just some local superstition,’ Kalten scoffed. ‘I’ve heard awful stories about places before, and they usually turned out to be about things that had happened generations before.’

  ‘It doesn’t really make much sense,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘That tanner back in Paler said that Count Ghasek’s a scholar. That’s not usually the sort of man who goes in for exotic entertainments. Let’s stay alert anyway. We’re a long way from home, and it might be a little hard to call in help.’

  ‘I’ll hold back a bit,’ Berit volunteered. ‘I think we’d all feel better if we’re sure those Zemochs aren’t still trailing us.’

  ‘I think we can count on the Domi’s efficiency,’ Tynian said.

  ‘Still -’ Berit said.

  ‘Go ahead, Berit,’ Sparhawk agreed. ‘It’s just as well not to take chances.’

  They rode at an easy canter, and as the sun was rising they reached the fork in the road. The left fork was rutted, narrow and poorly maintained. The rain which had swept through the area for some days back had left it muddy and generally unpleasant, and thick brush lined both sides of it.

  ‘It’s going to be slow going,’ Ulath noted. ‘I’ve seen smoother roads, and it’s not going to get better once we get up into those hills.’ He looked toward the low range of forested mountains lying just ahead.

  ‘We’ll do the best we can,’ Sparhawk said, ‘but you’re right. Forty leagues is quite a distance, and a bad road isn’t going to make it seem any shorter.’

  They started up the muddy road at a trot. As Ulath had predicted, it grew steadily worse. After about an hour, they entered the forest. The trees were evergreens, and they cast a sombre shade, but the air was cool and damp, a welcome relief for the armoured knights. They stopped briefly for a meal of bread and cheese at noon and then pressed on, climbing higher and higher into the mountains.

  The region was ominously deserted, and even most of the birds seemed muted, the only exception being the sooty ravens, who seemed to croak from every tree. As evening began to settle over the gloomy wood, Sparhawk led the others some distance away from the road, and they made camp for the night.

  The dismal forest had subdued even the irrepressible Kalten, and they were all very quiet as they ate their evening meal. After they had eaten, they went to their beds.

  It was about midnight when Ulath woke Sparhawk to take his turn on watch. ‘There seem to be a lot of wolves out there,’ the big Genidian said quietly. ‘It might not be a bad idea to put your back to a tree.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of a wolf attacking a man,’ Sparhawk replied, also speaking softly to avoid waking the others.

  ‘They usually don’t – unless they’re rabid.’

  ‘That’s a cheerful thought.’

  ‘I’m glad you liked it. I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.’

  Sparhawk left the circle of firelight and stopped about fifty yards back in the forest to allow his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He heard the howling of wolves back off in the woods. He thought he had found the source of many of the stories that had been circulating about Ghasek. This gloomy forest alone would be sufficient to stir up fears in superstitious people. Add to that the flocks of ravens – always a bird of ill omen – and the chill howling of packs of wolves, and it was easy to see how the stories had started. Sparhawk carefully circled the camp, his eyes and ears alert.

  Forty leagues. Given the worsening condition of the road, it would be unlikely that they could cover more than ten leagues a day. Sparhawk chafed at their slow pace, but there was nothing he could do about it. They had to go to Ghasek. The thought came to him that the count might very well not have found anyone who knew the whereabouts of King Sarak’s grave, and that this tedious and time-consuming trek might all be for nothing. He quickly pushed that thought out of his mind.

  Idly, still watching the surrounding woods, he began to wonder what his life would be like if they were successful in curing Ehlana. He had known her only as a child, but she was no longer a little girl. He had received a few hints about her adult personality, but nothing definite enough to make him feel that he really knew her. She would be a good queen, of that he was certain, but exactly what kind of a woman was she?

  He saw a movement out in the shadows and stopped, his hand going to his sword as he searched the darkness. Then he saw a pair of blazing green eyes that reflected back the light of their fire. It was a wolf. The animal stared at the flames for a long time, then turned to slink silently back into the forest.

  Sparhawk realized that he had been holding his breath, and he let it out explosively. No one is ever really prepared for a meeting with a wolf, and even though he knew it was irrational, he nonetheless felt the instinctive chill.

  The moon rose, casting its pale light over the dark forest. Sparhawk looked up and saw the clouds coming in. Gradually, they obscured the moon and inexorably continued to build up. ‘Oh, fine,’ he muttered. ‘That’s all we need – more rain.’ He shook his head and walked on, his eyes probing the darkness around him.

  Somewhat later, Tynian relieved him, and he went back to his tent.

  ‘Sparhawk.’ It was Talen, and his shaking of Sparhawk’s shoulder was light as he woke the big Pandion.

  ‘Yes.’ Sparhawk sat up, recognizing the note of urgency in the boy’s voice.

  ‘There’s something out there.’

  ‘I know. Wolves.’

  ‘This wasn’t a wolf – unless they’ve learned to walk on their hind legs.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘It was back in the shadows under those trees. I couldn’t see it very well, but it seemed to have a kind of robe over it, and the robe didn’t fit very well.’

  ‘The Seeker?’

  ‘How would I know? I only caught a glimpse of it. It came to the edge of the woods and then dropped back into the shadows. I probably wouldn’t even have seen it except for the glow coming off its face.’

  ‘Green?’

  Talen nodded.

  Sparhawk started to swear.

  ‘When you run out of words, let me know,’ Talen offered. ‘I’m a pretty good swearer.’

  ‘Did you warn Tynian?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What were you doing out of bed?’

  Talen sighed. ‘Grow up, Sparhawk,’ he said in a tone far older than his years. ‘No thief ever sleeps more than two hours at a time without going out to look around.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘You should have. It’s a nervous life, but it’s a lot of fun.’

  Sparhawk cupped his hand about the back of the young fellow’s neck. ‘I’m going to make a normal boy out of you yet,’ he said.

  ‘Why bother? I outgrew all that a long time ago. It might have been nice to run and play – if things had been different – but they weren’t, and this is much more fun. Go back to sleep, Sparhawk. Tynian and I’ll keep an eye on things. Oh, by the way, it’s going to rain tomorrow.’

  But it was not raining the following morning, though murky clouds obscured the sky. About mid-afternoon, Sparhawk reined Faran in.

  ‘What’s the trouble?’ Kurik asked him.

  ‘There’s a village down there in that little valley.’

  ‘What could they possibly be doing out here in these woods? You can’t farm with all these trees in the way.’

  ‘We could ask them, I suppose. I
want to talk with them anyway. They’re closer to Ghasek than the people back in Venne were, and I’d like to get a little more up-to-date information. There’s no point in riding into something blind if you don’t have to. Kalten,’ he called.

  ‘Now what?’ Kalten demanded.

  ‘Take the others and keep on going. Kurik and I are going down to that village to ask a few questions. We’ll catch up with you.’

  ‘All right.’ Kalten’s tone was abrupt and slightly surly.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘These woods depress me.’

  ‘They’re only trees, Kalten.’

  ‘I know, but do there have to be so many of them?’

  ‘Keep your eyes open. That Seeker’s out there someplace.’

  Kalten’s eyes brightened. He drew his sword and tested its edge with his thumb.

  ‘What have you got in mind?’ Sparhawk asked him.

  ‘This might just be the chance we’ve been waiting for to get that thing off our backs once and for all. Otha’s bug is very skinny. One good stroke should cut it in two. I think I’ll just hang back a little bit and set up an ambush of my own.’

  Sparhawk thought very quickly at that point. ‘Nice plan,’ he seemed to agree, ‘but somebody has to lead the others to safety.’

  ‘Tynian can do that.’

  ‘Maybe, but do you feel like trusting Sephrenia’s well-being to somebody we’ve only known for six months and who’s still recovering from an injury?’

  Kalten called his friend a number of obscene names.

  ‘Duty, my friend,’ Sparhawk said calmly. ‘Duty. Its stern call pulls us away from various entertainments. Just do as I asked you to do, Kalten. We’ll take care of the Seeker later.’

  Kalten continued to swear. Then he wheeled his horse and rode off to join the others.

  ‘You were right on the edge of a fight there,’ Kurik commented.