SEPHRENIA WAS TENDING a large, ugly-looking bruise on Berit's upper arm when Sparhawk and Bevier helped the weakly protesting Kalten down the hill to her.

"Is it bad?"  Sparhawk asked the young novice.

"It's nothing, my Lord," Berit said bravely, although his face was pale.

"Is that the very first thing they teach you Pandions?" Sephrenia asked acidly.  "To make light of your injuries? Berit's mail shirt stopped most of the blow, but in about an hour his arm's going to be purple from elbow to shoulder.  He'll barely be able to use it."

"You're in a cheerful humor this afternoon, little mother," Kalten said to her.

She pointed a threatening finger, at him.  "Kalten," she said, "sit.  I'll deal with you after I've tended Berit's arm."

Kalten sighed and slumped down onto the ground.

Sparhawk looked around.  "Where are Ulath, Tynian, and Kurik?" he asked.

"They're scouting around to make sure there aren't any more ambushes, laid for us, Sir Sparhawk," Befit replied.

"Good idea."

"That creature didn't look so very dangerous to me," Bevier said.  "A little mysterious perhaps, but not all that dangerous."

"It didn't hit you," Kalten told him.  "It's dangerous, all right.  Take my word for it."

"It's more dangerous than you could possibly imagine." Sephrenia said.  "It can send whole armies after us."

"If it's got the kind of power that knocked me off my horse, it doesn't need armies."

"You keep forgetting, Kalten.  Its mind is the mind of Azash.  The Gods prefer to have humans do their work for them."

"The men who came down that hill were like sleepwalkers," Bevier said, shuddering.  "We cut them to pieces, and they didn't make a sound."  He paused, frowning.  "I didn't think Styrics were so aggressive," he added.  "I've never seen one with a sword in his hand before."

"Those weren't western Styrics," Sephrenia said, tying off the padded bandage around Befit's upper arm.  "Try not to use that too much," she instructed.  "Give it time to heal."

"Yes, ma'am," Befit replied.  "Now that you mention it, though, it is getting a little sore."

She smiled and put an affectionate hand on his shoulder.  "This one may be all right, Sparhawk.  His head isn't quite solid bone - like some I could name."  She glanced meaningfully at Kalten.

"Sephrenia," the blond knight protested.

"Get out of the mail shirt," she told him crisply.  "I want to see if you've broken anything."

"You said the Styrics in that group weren't western Styrics," Bevier said to her.

"No.  They were Zemochs.  It's more or less what we guessed at back at that inn.  The Seeker will use anybody, but a western Styric is incapable of using weapons made of steel.  If they'd been local people, their swords would have been bronze or copper."  She looked critically at Kalten, who had just removed his mail shirt.  She shuddered.  "You look like a blond rug," she told him.

"It's not my fault, little mother," he said, suddenly blushing.  "All the men in my family have been hairy."

Bevier looked puzzled.  "What finally drove that creature off?" he asked.