Name: Valarkin (brother of Durnwold). Birthplace: Little Hunger Farm, Estar. Occupation: priest of the temple of the Demon of Estar. Status: acolyte.
Description: a young man with face and nose both narrow; mouth small and teeth sharp; hair and eyes both ratskin brown.
The day after leaving Delve, the wizards passed the brooding cliffs of Maf, which lay east of the Salt Road. The people of Delve had told them of the dragon's lair.
'Can you tell if the dragon's at home?' asked Phyphor.
'At this distance, no,' said Miphon.
One league further north, they came upon the ruins of Estar's temple. Amongst the charred rubble they found one living man, squatting in the ashes by a fire-scarred idol. His clothing, designed for ceremony rather than for use, was dirty and torn. His hands were blistered by the labour of uncovering the idol from the wreckage. One fingernail was bruised sullen black-red.
'Who are you?' asked Phyphor in Galish.
The stranger said nothing, but stared blankly at the idol. It had huge eyes which focused on nothing, broad lips parted to suck and absorb, a vast sagging chin; its fingers were tipped with claws.
'Name yourself!' roared Garash.
The young stranger rocked backwards and forwards, humming words without meaning.
'Stranger,' said Miphon quietly, fingering the idol. 'May we know your name? Please.'
'Valarkin,' murmured the man.
'Who burnt this place?'
'Those who did,' said Valarkin.
Which, though true, was unsatisfactory.
Bodies, many half-cremated, littered the ruins. From one, Garash salvaged an amulet.
'The spider,' said Phyphor, as Garash weighed it in his hand. 'Collosnon soldiers have been here.'
'This has no power,' said Garash with contempt, tossing the amulet to one side.
Miphon fielded it. The amulet was an oval ceramic tile with a neckcord – or the charred remains of one -threaded through a small hole. On the front was a black spider on a green background; on the back was a diamond made of a hundred curious hieroglyphs.
'Can you read this?' said Miphon to Phyphor.
'No,' said Phyphor. 'But only Collosnon soldiers wear those things. I know that much.'
Miphon let the amulet fall. Since they lost the donkey, he had learnt to carry essentials only.
'So the Collosnon have reached Estar,' said Garash. 'Perhaps in time we'll see the master of Tameran march his troops to the Great Dyke.'
Phyphor thought of all the northing they had made -through territory watched by the Landguard, by way of Narba to the Rice Empire, past Veda to the Harvest Plains, then to Selzirk, then Runcorn, then through the mountain kingdoms into Estar.
'No,' he said. 'Never.'
'We fought hard,' said the young Valarkin, speaking up unexpectedly. 'We did our best. But they were too many.'
'Do the Collosnon rule Estar now?' asked Phyphor. 'Not yet,' said Valarkin. 'They attacked here, but they were only a raiding party. The prince's soldiers caught them at it. There was a fight. The Collosnon lost – but all our people were dead by then. Saving me.' 'Were you a priest here?'
'Yes,' said Valarkin. Then added: 'I fought in the defence of the temple. I fought well.'
That was a lie. He had fled when the attack started, hiding in darkness until Comedo's troops had arrived to destroy the Collosnon invaders. ' 'Valarkin,' said Miphon, 'Can you tell us if the wizard Heenmor is still at Castle Vaunting?'
'We've not talked with the castle since the dragon ravaged the land,' said Valarkin. 'The castle hates us. Because the dragon burnt the country. They blame us for that.'
The dragon, yes. Phyphor looked at the sky. It was almost dayfail.
'Don't worry about the dragon,' said Valarkin. 'You can stay here – many travellers did. Our god kept the dragon away. Anyway, it's dead now. Our god destroyed it.'
'When?' said Garash.
'The night it burned the countryside. That was the night of its death-agony. Are we to blame for that? Gods are for the care of the dead, not the killing of dragons. The prince was warned.'
'About what?' said Garash.
'That there would be dangers. He's to blame. Comedo. We warned him – but he insisted. So the dragon died a noisy death – what difference does it make? Our god killed it. Not instantly – but it's dead all right.'
'Why is the prince angry then?' said Miphon.
'Because it burnt Lorford,' said Valarkin, looking at him with angry eyes gimlet-sharp. 'It burnt the palace stables. He can only seat twenty men on horseback now – there was plenty of roast horsemeat the night the dragon fle.w.'
Hoping the dragon was indeed dead, the wizards began to make camp. Another day should take them to Lorford.
Elsewhere, after a day spent crawling and climbing through mountain tunnels, the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst emerged into the evening air at the foot of the mountain of Maf. Soon he found Durnwold. who had been keeping vigil, waiting for a sign. Durnwold had kept Hearst's horse with him, as well as his own. As the two men rode toward the Salt Road, they saw a campfire burning in the temple ruins.
Gaining the road, they headed for Lorford; they did not stop to investigate the camp fire, and those warming themselves by its flames thought it wisest not to challenge the two horsemen passing in the night.