As Hubert had observed before； when that sword cleared its sheath it negated all the poverty in the appearance of the man who held it。 The blade； a full； perfect meter in length； was moderately wide； incredibly straight and sharp。 A mottled pattern on the flat side seemed to exist just beneath the perfect polish of the surface； and appeared to extend into the metal； to a depth greater than the blade was thick。 The hilt； was rich and rough in texture； of lustrous black； with some small design worked on it in white。 Earlier Hubert had been able to read this design as the symbol of a small white arrow； point aimed upward toward the pommel。
The lean right arm of the mounted man held out the weighty sword without a quiver。 The blade was extended in turn to each of the four roads leading from the intersection。 When the point was aimed along the rutty road in the direction of the gallows； Hubert thought that he could seethe blade…tip quivering； as if after all there might be a trace of weakness in that determined arm。
〃This way；〃 the leader ordered。 And his voice was no more unsteady than was the single ringing snap with which he sheathed his blade。
He rode along the rutted way toward that darkened sky； no faster and no slower than before。 This time； the two soldiers and the youth all followed closely。 And in silence。 Their surroundings； once they had turned at the crossroads； were not conducive to unnecessary talk。
A daylight owl fled through a roadside thicket； as if it were horrified at something it had found within。 The road here took a winding course among the ugly thickets； making it impossible for the traveler to see more than a few meters ahead at any point。 The gallows … if that was what it was … had disappeared from sight for the time being。 But it was waiting for them； thought Hubert； up ahead。
When at last the tall skeletal structure came into view again； there was no doubt of what it was。 The rude scaffolding had room for three or four victims； but there was only one in residence； though the frayed ends of other ropes indicated that once he had enjoyed pany。
One lone； attenuated human shape hung from the weathered crosstree。 From the half…face that remained； a single empty eyesocket looked down upon the travelers； and seemed sardonically to mark their progress。 Hubert could not keep from looking up at it several times； though their march did not pause as it went by。 At last the windings of the road took the gallows out of sight behind a screen of barren trees。 All the plants here were oddly leafless； Hubert suddenly realized； though spring was well advanced。
Still the mounted leader rode on in silence； concentrating his attention on the road ahead and the surrounding woods and thickets。 Even leafless as it was； the growth beside the road still seemed to promise ambush。 No birds sang。 A hush held； as if some enemy already lay in wait； and had only a moment ago fallen silent in anticipation。 At intervals the leader； as he rode； put hand to sword once more。 But he did not draw。 His fingers rested carefully； almost caressingly on that black hilt； then slid away again。
When they were a few hundred meters past the gallows； he sighed gently； and appeared to e to the conclusion that any immediate challenge from the roadside was unlikely。 He relaxed a trifle in the saddle； and； while still keeping an alert eye on his surroundings； rode forward a trifle faster and more boldly。
Hubert； reassured by this sight； and growing ever more conscious of his rumbling stomach； speeded up the pace of his own feet somewhat until he drew close to the rider's stirrup。 Then； when the way ahead appeared to be clear for a little way at least； Hubert dared to speak。 〃Sir？ Will the blade show us where we can find some food？ I'm empty； pack and belly both。。。〃
There was no immediate response。 At least there had not been； as Hubert had half…feared there would； a flash of rage。
Encouraged； Hubert tried again。 〃Baron Doon？ Sir？〃
The rider did not turn his head by so much as a centimeter； but this time he answered。 〃If food were what I wanted；〃 grated the low voice from between his teeth； 〃what I； the owner and master of this Sword； desired more than anything else in the sweet universe； then Wayfinder would guide us to as great a feast as I desired。 But since food is not what I crave at this moment； it does not。 Now keep quiet； and follow me alertly。 Safety is not what I am looking for either。〃
Wayfinder； thought Hubert to himself。 Wayfinder。 I've heard some story about that； some tale of magic Swords。。。 But； having been ordered to keep quiet； he kept quiet。
The four men continued to move forward … again； more slowly； for now the riding beast； well…trained though it was； was giving signs of reluctance to proceed any farther along this road。 At a sign from Baron Doon； Golok unhooded his monkbird again； though for the time being he kept it on his shoulder。
The road continued a progressive deterioration； till now it was doubtful whether it deserved that name at all。 And now； as if capriciously； it branched again。 Again it was the right…hand fork that bore the most unfavorable aspect； even though the left appeared to lead into nothing better than another nasty thicket； this one so overgrown as to almost swallow up the track entirely。
Still there was no doubt that the right…hand way looked worse。 Even though … and here Hubert rubbed at his eyes； blinked； and looked again … even though it did appear to lead to a house。 Yes； there was an abandoned dwelling down there； right on the edge of an encroaching swamp。 It was a large house； or rather it looked as if it might have been large before portions of it had suffered a collapse。 The swamp； thought Hubert； had probably begun to undermine it from the rear。
The surviving portion had been sturdily built of timber and of stone； the masonry discolored and weakened now。 There might be； Hubert supposed； three or four rooms still standing roofed and usable； counting the fragment of an upper story that remained。 Usable； that is； if the whole thing did not collapse the first time someone walked into it。
The road to the right did not go past the house； but terminated at it； or； more precisely； at a narrow bridge a few meters from the wooden door。 The rickety； unsafe…looking bridge spanned a noisome ditch formed by an advanced arm of the swamp。 The bridge was fashioned of two thin； round logs； slippery…looking with damp and moss。 There was a sketch of a railing on one side； and crosswise between the logs a scattering of short boards for footing。 Some of these floorboards already hung down broken。
Again Baron Doon had recourse to his Sword。 This time； Hubert observed with a fatalistic lack of surprise； the blade quivered only when its owner pointed it in the direction of the house。
This time Doon did not sheath the blade； using it instead to gesture to Golok。 Then he went back to watching the house intently。
Again the flying mammal； after a low…crooning conference with its master； took to its dark； membranous wings。 It circled the house first。 Then it hovered briefly in front of one shadowed window； but balked at entering that dark； blank space。 In another moment it had returned to its master's shoulder； where it sat shivering。 When Golok spoke to it this time； it would not answer。
Doon； drawn blade still in hand； dismounted。 Then silently； leading his mount behind him； he approached the bridge。 The riding beast allowed itself to be led； though unwillingly； its hide quivering with its high…strung nerves。 Hubert saw how its feet curved； the hard footpads trying to grip the slippery logs of the bridge where the crossboards were missing。
The others were all hesitating。 Hubert swallowed； and crossed second。 Once he had made up his mind to follow and serve a leader； he'd serve and follow him。 Until the time came when he decided to quit altogether。 Provided； of course； that when the time came he was still able。。。
Firmly he banished thoughts like that。 Bee a coward； and the world was through with you for good。 The bridge under his feet felt more solid than it looked。
Once