The return walk to the inn, hidden deep within the dead streets of Eichen proved awkward and unpleasant. Klara had been in a violent mood, and Theo’s was hardly much better. Everything that could go wrong seemed intent on doing so. He had toyed with the idea of checking for hoof prints in the woods but decided against it in the end. What horses had survived seemed to have scattered to the four winds, and the young bull lacked Gerda’s training. Gerda had been their tracker, and she could have identified the tread of a horse meant for humans or runners from the tracks of a shire like Eisengrim’s with ease. She was also buried back in the temple square, waiting for strangers to find her, and give her rest.

  Stop it.

  There was not much left of the daylight by the time Theo set out for the west gate. Eisengrim had taken their report with that quiet rage of his that seemed philosophical on the surface, but warned them not to get too close to his bed. Their plan had been ruined, and now they had to make a new one. Theo would carry out his original orders and head west to Hafenstrand, in the hopes of catching Martin and his father. Klara would head directly to The Hold, confiscating or buying whatever means of transport she could find along the way to get there. If Rahm was headed to the Dead Lands, then they would not catch him, and that was that. If Martin had escaped him, and was trying to flee the country, then they still might have a chance to thwart whatever master had command of such pitiless monsters. It wasn’t much at all, but it was all that they had.

  So Theo began his walk. With a will and a good horse, Hafenstrand was maybe a whole day’s journey. Walking there, with minimal rest and some luck, Theo hoped to get there within two. He was a bull in his prime, and desperate armies had marched farther than that in a mere two days. Sturmwatch itself had been carved out of such marches.

  He passed through the dead, silent city, alone. That had not been easy. He had felt hunted, watched the entire time. The husks of the buildings with empty black windows made him think of skulls stripped bare, of decay and death, and friends he would never see again.

  Stop it.

  Dead trees loomed over him once he’d passed beyond the husk of Eichen. Theo could hear them cracking as he passed. Here and there a slender branch would fall down from the sky, and land on the dirt road, already half buried in dried, dead leaves. Theo adjusted his pack and fixed his eyes forward. He had rations for four days, along with his weapons and armour, and yet somehow it did not seem enough. What if Martin was at end of this road, and about to take ship and get away? Would he be expected to follow? What if Rahm was somewhere up ahead?

  “I guess we’ll see,” the young bull said aloud to himself, answering his own question.

  Night came. Theo walked on, munching on biscuits and taking a sip of water from one of the handful of water skins he’d arranged on his person. The night had few clouds, and the moon and stars offered light enough to make certain he stayed on the road. He had barely seen anything that might even be remotely taken for tracks.

  They’re probably moving through the woods, if they went this direction at all.

  Theo nodded at the wisdom of the thought, and tried to ignore how the voice in his head just then had sounded a bit too much like Dietrich for his comfort. He pressed on, pushing through the tiredness that was beginning wrap itself around him like a warm, welcome blanket. The hours had passed by faster than he had expected, though his pace had slowed considerably. His legs were stiff and sore when he finally walked off of the deserted road and sat with his back against a tree. His feet ached. Certain spots felt hot and raw, warning of blisters, but Theo fell asleep without even a thought of doing something about them.

  There was morning dew covering him when he woke. He devoured his breakfast, and did not waste time to make coffee. His back and legs made loud, unhealthy cracking noises as he stood and stretched. Staggering at first, his legs and feet aching, Theo stubbornly returned to the road, and continued on.

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  At about noon, he became vaguely aware of a split from the main road, turning sharply to the right. It looked as if it were still under construction, though the young bull could see no workmen to enquire what was afoot. A badly made sign struggled to stay standing in the shallow hole that had been dug for it. A lifetime ago, such a detour would have proven irresistible to his curiosity, but right now time was not on his side, in much the way it was still the enemy of those he pursued. Theo did not give the road to whatever Drachenzahn was a second glance as he turned his attention and his momentum back towards the main road.

  It grew cloudy as time and the soles of his boots wore on. Theo missed having a companion of any sort badly. When he had gone ranging across Badrea, and into those neighbouring kingdoms that had good relationships with Sturmwatch and its non-humans, he had done so by joining trade caravans going one way or another. That had been a good time in his life. He had been formally inducted into the Order. He wore the stone and carried the prestige that came with up and down the coast, and all along the riverlands, and beyond. He had helped bring law to far off places that had been struggling to retain any kind of order. The daylight hours had been for exploration and danger. The night had been for laughter and wine. They had been carefree days that seemed hollow to him now as he walked west in search of killers of one kind or another. His body was lithe and strong, fit for fighting and yet this training had been to earn him cash prizes in the ring. He had read voraciously as Dietrich had taught him, and yet the tomes he had been expected to study had remained closed save the occasional perusal when he was alone and looking for a chuckle. Would things have been different if he had taken this all seriously at the start? Would Dietrich, or Gerda, or even Prince Siegfried, still be alive if he had only understood back then?

  Stop it.

  Theo stopped, swaying where he stood on the road. A wind had picked up, angry and cool as it snapped at his long, heavy coat. His legs were aching, and his toes felt too big for is boots just then. Yet he could not let himself stop. More than fear of failure, he despised the idea of being in his own company for a second more than necessary. Melancholy threatened, and Theo did the only thing he could when copious amounts of alcohol were not to hand: he sought it out.

  He made attempts at singing to pass the time, and forget the growing discomfort that he felt. He had been walking for nearly two days by the time he heard the light tweeting of birds above. Until then, all the young bull heard had been the wind and the way that it shook the branches and their leaves high above him. This sudden interruption of life to a constant, dispassionate thrumming caused by the hellish power of Volkard gave the Oak a renewed sense of purpose, and vigour that he needed just then.

  Theo was rewarded by the sudden appearance of life. Buildings began to line the sides of the road, though how long he had been passing them by before he truly noticed them the minotaur could not say. Dogs barked at him. Geese hissed and flapped their wings threateningly in his shadow from behind the fences set up to contain them. A couple of lamps burned here and there, while far beyond, taking up much dark horizon there blazed fires on stone watch towers. Theo saw a gatehouse with a drawbridge pulled up for the night.

  “Fuck,” he said aloud, disturbing a drunk sitting huddled up against a nearby wall. Theo gave the fellow a silver piece and a day’s worth of trail rations in exchange for directions to the nearest inn. It was a human establishment, but they had a couple if vacant rooms of the size a young bull might need. Theo ordered himself a lot of cider, black coffee, and the first hot meal he had enjoyed in two days.

  “Don’t suppose you saw a boy come through these parts?” Theo asked the friendly looking girl that took his order. “Twelve years old, with blonde hair and green eyes?”

  The young girl’s face turned red as he spoke to her. She shook her head slowly, smiling bashfully.

  Theo sighed. It was a long shot, but he had to check. “What about another minotaur? He’d be a bit taller and heavier than me. Carries a bow and the right side of his face is badly scarred. He’d be riding a big horse. Does that mean anything to you?”

  The girl’s face was as red as a beet by this stage. She shook her head again, but this time trying to put her whole body into the action. She looked ridiculous. It only dawned on Theo then that the girl might be trying to seduce him. Was she a whore, as well as part of the waiting staff?

  “Very well, perhaps you can help me with something else?”

  The girl laid a hand on top of Theo’s. The bull closed his eyes and gently, but firmly, pushed her away. “Not that,” he chided with a shake of his head. “I need to find someone in the city when the gates open in the morning. His name’s Orel. He’s one of the scaled. He wears a star stone like the one I’ve got on. Might you know where I can find him?”

  The girl had been somewhat embarrassed by the polite rejection, but she stayed professional up until Theo mentioned the name. Her eyes lit up in a delighted grin, then.

  “You mean Orel the Spark, sir? Everyone knows him. He’s the town’s drug dealer!”