"I do not understand why you insist in travelling in such a mundane fashion," the fat necromancer said, as he rode carefully along on the horse that Bethany had found for him. "And we certainly don''t need any escort." He nodded at the armoured men that followed them.

    "Firstly, I''ve heard recent rumours about the power of this Urt ," Bethany replied, sitting far more comfortably on her own warhorse. "Apparently he melted a guard earlier, and threw fireballs about almost casually,"

    "Bah," Nicolas said. "Rumours."

    "I would tend to agree with your ?ssessment from my own encounter with him." She nodded. "He showed little ability when we met, and turned tail and ran at the first opportunity. However, even if those rumours aren''t true, there''s also this Lady Nothing, who I know from first hand experience, does have significant power. Whilst they don''t seem to be working together, she''s reported to have followed him out of the city, so it''s quite likely we''ll meet her, and I''m not going to be defeated twice."

    "What is her interest in the lad anyway?" asked Nicolas. He wobbled on his horse, which was a plough horse, hastily bought from a farmer. It was the only beast she''d seen large enough to support the fat wizard without any major problems.

    "I do not know." She resisted the urge to sneer at his horsemanship. Whatever else he was, she knew he was a powerful spell caster, and apparently quite vain. He would likely take offence from her scoffing.

    All in all, she considered his his offer of an alliance surprising, and she didn''t trust him at all, suspecting he had an ulterior motive. However, given the power of the girl, and the supposed power of this Urt character, together they balanced the odds, so perhaps that was it.

    "And where are they heading?" Nicolas went on. "I have it on good authority that he came from somewhere around a stinking little village called Mutrut, he can''t be heading... oh."

    "What?"

    "It occurs to me that he may be heading somewhere else. A place that makes a lot more sense for a necromancer to head towards."

    "There''s no other place this trail leads," Bethany said, frowning.

    "Oh yes there is. And I happen to know it well." He smiled.

    Bethany the Blue nodded to herself, suddenly regretting her decision to team up, and decided to kill the fat mage as soon as an opportunity presented itself.

    In the meantime, they carried on, trailing their prey, along the track towards Mudrut.

    "Looks like we''ve achieved our destination," Reginald said.

    "Just in time too," Urt replied.

    His small band had been passing more and more buildings since emerging from the zombie infested woodland, which had turned out to be a fairly narrow strip of forest in the end.

    Now the terrain was back to rough moorland, although the road had widened and become cobbled. The houses squatting on either side of it were generally single storey affairs, made of the same grey stone. Some had thatched rooves, others, slate.

    At regular intervals along the side of the road tall poles with some kind of magical illumination on the top cast light down onto the street below. Urt wondered who had thought of them. He considered the idea to be an excellent one, allowing them to make their way along the street in the night easily.

    As they moved further into the small town, various citizens became visible. Whilst many were your average kind of city dweller, there were more than a few clad in the long black robes traditionally ?ssociated with necromancers and dark mages. Not only that, several of these had distinctly un-alive figures shambling after them.

    Urt tried to suppress the rising excitement he felt. Finally, he thought, amongst my own kind!

    "Where are we headed boss?" Horace called up from Lucy''s arms. He too had been swivelling his eyes left and right, taking in the environment.

    "Good point," said Urt. He pulled up suddenly, causing a man walking behind him to shout a complaint.

    Looking around, he located a black clad woman walking along the paved area that ran along the side of the street. Slipping off his mount, Urt moved quickly to intercept her.

    "Excuse me," he said, in a tone that he hoped was respectful but strong. "Do you know of a mage around here by the name of Mangle?"

    The woman, she was grey haired and thin as the lich she was no doubt on her way to becoming, looked him up and down before answering.

    "Sure lad, Mangle''s well known around here," she eventually replied. "He has a house just up the way a bit. About two minutes that way, turn off on Rib lane. His is the cottage with the dark red door. Always a bit of a rebel that one. Who are you anyway? Not seen you around before."

    "Oh, just an old friend of his," Urt said, not wishing to give any more information away than he had to. "Thank you mage." He nodded at her and retreated quickly, before she could ask any further questions.

    The old necromancer followed him with her eyes as he hastily mounted his horse again, and kicked it into life.

    "Mangle?" asked Horace. "Mangle''s here?"

    "Seems so," Urt replied.

    "Who''s Mangle?" asked Reginald.

    "My old master. Remember the letter in Groan? Pay attention now."

    "Well, sorry for not having a perfect memory," the were-sheep complained. "I''m not so good with names. Not used to it."

    "Never mind, look out for Rib lane, if you can remember that," Urt replied. "Hopefully he''ll put us up for the night."

    "As long as I don''t have to stay in the stables again," Reginald said. But shut up as they continued down the main road, looking for their destination, Urt''s old master, and, hopefully, some answers.

    ~ * ~

    Samantha wrapped her cloak around her and grabbed her pack. Her hiding place had been even more fortuitous than she''d expected. It was no great a guess that, if Urt came into town, he''d come along the main road, but to have him accost the woman and ask for directions practically outside the door was a blessing from Zzrif himself. Now she could follow at a distance and await the best opportunity to engage.

    There was a low chime from her pouch, and she determined to offer her next victim to Zzrif for his double favour. This could only be Synista, and now, with something to report, Samantha would be far better received.

    She pulled out the communications crystal and activated it. "Den Mother," she said, as the other''s image shimmered into existence.

    "You had better have news," her senior said sharply, dispensing with any formalities.

    "I have located the target," Samantha replied, keeping her cool. "I expect to engage shortly."

    The Den Mother''s mood visibly brightened. "I knew I could rely on you," she said. "What about the other package?"

    "I secured it as you ordered," lied Samantha.

    "Very well, the client has asked about it, but he''s not in a rush to collect for now, so continue with your current ?ssignment."

    "By your command mother." Samantha performed a shallow bow, which was possibly wasted, as the image vanished.

    Contemplating the crystal for a moment, Sam shook her head and stowed it. Once these ?ssignments were over, she decided, it would be time to strike out on her own. She''d never been very comfortable taking orders. For the moment though, there was a job to do.

    Glancing around at the house she''d invaded, she checked the by-now rotting corpse of the former owner one final time. He was still dead, which should have been a given, but you could never tell with these bloody necromancers.

    Leaving the body behind, she opened the door and slipped out into the gloom of the night.