By the time the band of knights had entered the cedar grove, the sun had set and the sliver of Lunitari neared the western ridge. Ash waited a few more moments, watching the crescent slip from view. With the whole crest around and above him in full shadow, the Kagonesti emerged from his hiding place and carefully started down the slope.
He moved slowly, always advancing from one piece of cover to the next-slithering like a snake in those places where he was forced to cross open ground-and by the time he reached the floor of the valley, the stars had sparkled into life.
Still he moved with care, crouching low as he moved toward the grove. Near the edge of the clump of trees, he paused while a gust of wind swirled outward. He smelled humans, knew that at least two of them were very nearby, probably posted as sentries on this side of the grove. Good. Like himself, the humans knew the need for caution.
A tight smile creased his lips as he crawled under the canopy of the first pines. Although he was pleased with Sir Kamford's alertness, it would please him even more to demonstrate wild elven proficiency and stealth. Ashtaway saw the boots of a knight no more than five paces away, but the man had not noticed him in the gathering darkness. Silently the Kagonesti moved from tree trunk to tree trunk, using his keen night vision to spot each of the pickets before the men had any idea that he lurked so closely among them.
A horse stamped nervously, and the elf froze, chagrined at his own carelessness. Rigidly he watched the beast's clomping hooves, noting the shaggy fetlocks, the span of the legs. Though he had little experience with horses, he guessed with a fair degree of certainty that the steed before him was an unusually large specimen. Too, he should have guessed that the great beasts would possess a wild animal's keen senses of smell and hearing. No doubt the steed had picked up his scent. Still, after that momentary restlessness the horse snorted several times and went back to placid grazing.
A few more minutes brought Ash to the brink of the grove's central clearing, where most of the knights were preparing to bivouac for the night. Several staked out horses, while others sharpened weapons, mended saddles, or cleaned dust and mud from their boots. Again the elf was impressed-though the night was chill, the humans showed no inclination to build a fire. Neither did they make any unnecessary noise during their activities.
"D'you think he'll show up?" The voice came from a group of knights gathered at a ring of boulders-a circular space Ash had used as a campsite on his previous visits to the grove.
"If he don't, we've taken a hundred lances out of the lords' army fer nothin'!" groused another knight.
"He'll come." Now Ash recognized Sir Kamford's voice. The knight stood in the center of the circle, an undeniable figure of command. The other knights fell silent as he spoke. 'There was something about him-a kind of wisdom that I've rarely encountered. He gave me his word-"
"And I have honored it," concluded Ashtaway, stepping into the circle. He enjoyed the consternation of the knights as they scrambled to their feet or instinctively reached for weapons, held back by Sir Kamford's chuckle of amusement. The knight bowed his head in a gesture of respect and appraised Ash for a moment before speaking.
"Welcome. Were my pickets sleeping on the job?" asked Sir Kamford with good-humored amazement.
Ash repeated the respectful bow, and he, too, paused to meet the other's eyes before he spoke. "No, they are alert and would doubtless have discovered any human who sought to intrude-or an ogre or Silvanesti elf, for that matter."
"I believe you," Sir Kamford said with a nod. "It is good to see you again, my friend-and ally."
"And you, human. I see that you bring many warriors."
"You are the elf who will show us the road to Sanction?" inquired one of those knights, quite rudely, thought Ashtaway. Below his large nose this fellow had a curving red mustache. The human fixed the Kagonesti with a look of frank skepticism and not a little hostility.
"I would not call it a road," he replied stiffly. "I made it clear that it is but a hunting path. It does, however, cross the lower slopes of the smoking mountains and leads to the valley you call Sanction. And I believe that your horses will be able to cross."
"Believe? You don't know?" demanded the red-faced warrior.
Ashtaway stiffened, forcibly holding his hand away from the hilt of his axe. This knight's lack of manners offended him deeply, and for the first time he wondered if he was making a great mistake by coming here.
"How could I know?" he replied curtly. "We Kagonesti have no need of animal slaves in our efforts at war. We do well on our own feet." Ashtaway sensed that his own words were inflammatory, but he found it impossible to hold his tongue. The blunt conversation with the red- faced man seemed to arouse an instinctive antipathy.
"Animal slaves?" The knight's mustache quivered in indignation, and his fists clenched into firm knots. 'These steeds are the boldest warriors on four legs! Never insult them-for to do so is to insult the men who ride them! To do that is to die."
The words hit the Kagonesti with the piercing force of a hot lance. "If there have been insults uttered, it was not I who began the exchange," Ash replied grimly, his own fingers curling inward. "I was led to believe that my services would be of some aid to the knights, and to my friend, Sir Kamford Willis. If that is not the case, I will go-or I will fight, whichever you choose."
His hazel eyes, darkened in the night, remained unwaveringly on the face of the belligerent knight. A small voice grew louder within him, suggesting that perhaps his coming here was a mistake, that humans and wild elves could not work together.
"Patience, Sir Blayne." It was Sir Kamford who cut through the tension with a soothing voice. "As I told you-and told the lords of the orders as well-Ashtaway has hunted over this trail on foot. But if he suspects that our horses will pass, I'm prepared to believe him."
"He passed our pickets, all right. He must know a little something," murmured another knight, not unkindly.
The one called Sir Blayne made a visible but only partially successful effort to relax. "Very well." He addressed Ashtaway. "Your offer of help is not unwelcome. You should know, however, that these hundred knights could be very useful on the plains during this summer. If our mission here comes to naught, the loss could be catastrophic."
"I cannot control the success or failure of your mission, but I can see that you will be able to approach Sanction from the southeast. The rest will be up to you."
Ashtaway felt the flame of his anger slowly doused. As the hazy sense of instinctive rage faded, he wondered about its sudden force and fury, and he told himself that he would have to work hard to hold that tendency at bay.
"That is all we ask," Sir Kamford declared, silencing Sir Blayne with a firm look. "Can you tell us what we will do from here?"
"In the morning, we leave this valley, crossing the north ridge. In four or five days, we should reach the summit of the pass, and from there you will be able to see your destination."
"Up the north ridge of this valley?" Another knight spoke, faintly skeptical. "That didn't look like any kind of slope for riders."
Ashtaway shrugged. "If the little climb out of here is going to stop you, then I can say with certainty that your horses will never make it over the pass. I am sorry."
"We can make it!" Sir Kamford snapped. "We'll dismount and lead the horses on foot over the rough parts."