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“My dear boy, you are not thinking like a Demonbane. It is our job to kill demons, not hide from them!” With a grin, the boy continued in his normal tone. “And better any demon runs into us than some poor farmer chasing his cows. Besides, Mandarack may fight like a demon himself, but he’s older than time, and had best take it easy.”
    Anything further that Marick might have said was cut off by two slim hands coming up from behind him and grabbing his ears. He started to twist, but the fingers only squeezed tighter.
    â€œOw! Salick! What are you trying to do? I can’t be a Bane if I’ve got no ears, can I?” he protested as the tall girl dragged him to his feet.
    â€œWell, my little Bane, if you’ve got time to gossip, I suppose I’ll just have to find a job for you.” Her eyes were narrowed and her cheeks red. Garet guessed that she had overheard Marick’s remarks about Mandarack. “Something to get your mind off your betters, I think.” She handed him the hatchet. “Start finding wood for tonight’s fire. You can carry it beside the horses until we reach some shelter.”
    Marick, instead of protesting at the unfairness of his punishment, merely winked at Garet and whispered to him, “That’ll teach me to keep my mouth shut or my eyes open.” The boy trotted off to where the trees straggled over the lip of the river valley.
    Unpredictable , thought Garet. He could never guess what Marick’s reaction would be in any situation, but he found himself liking the young Bane more and more. What would it have been like to have him for a brother instead of Galit and Gitel? More practical jokes maybe. But they might have been ones you could laugh at too, and maybe you could play one yourself and get a laugh back instead of a beating.
    Salick interrupted his thoughts. “Don’t listen to Marick’s foolishness. He rattles on like the Ar in spring flood!”
    Garet had to ask, “Is Master Mandarack really all right?” The old Bane was responsible for this new life of companionship and adventure. What would happen to him if Mandarack died?
    Salick puffed up, ready to attack and then seemed to deflate. She answered in a lowered voice. “Marick was right about one thing, the Master is no longer young.” She glanced around to make sure they were alone. “It’s true that I worry about him; he takes too much on himself. If we don’t look after him, well...we should find a place to rest for the night.”
    Garet was surprised at the trust she was showing in him, to reveal so much of her fears. “He’s like your father, isn’t he?” he ventured.
    Salick gave a half-hearted bristle and grumbled, “Better than my own father, anyway.” She stomped off towards the horses and called to Dorict to help her re-load the bags.
    And mine too , Garet thought.
    They rode on for the rest of the afternoon but found no likely place to rest. Now many of the homesteads were a mess of tumbled turf walls and charred roof-beams. Others had a stink of death about them that hurried the small party on. As the sun dipped towards the west, they came upon a farmhouse that appeared to have escaped the demons’ attacks. Larger than most, the simple corral typical of Midland farms was here replaced by a substantial barn and several sheds. The house itself was timber framed with thick walls made of pressed mud and clay. The outside was whitewashed and glowed in the low rays of the sun. Instead of thatch, curved red tiles covered the roof. Everything spoke of prosperity and comfort, down to the broad vegetable garden flanking the painted wooden door.
    â€œNo dead cattle, no corpses. A cheerful place to rest. Shall we, Master?” Marick asked as he trotted alongside the horses, branches bundled under each arm.
    Mandarack nodded and dismounted slowly from his horse. Garet guessed that the effort of killing the demon