The sunset was slowly dying, and Alaric estimated they had no more than a couple of hours of light left, three at most. He decided they would still move forward a bit and then enter the forest to abandon the cart, as it would be an impediment when the time came to flee. Later, they would start the climb up to the castle, hidden by the forest and sheltered by the darkness. "It will be about two hours of climbing, and we'll have to leave the horses halfway," he told himself. Someone would have to stay with them, and he thought it best to leave the girl, Zarinia. He wanted to have his older sister close by, as support, after seeing what she could do the previous night.

The doubt that plagued him was whether Lysandra would be able to climb the wall or scramble up a rope. They would probably have to help her. Or perhaps she could float over the wall with her witch powers. In that case, they could tie a rope to her belt and save themselves the trouble of throwing the grappling hook. He started to smile, picturing Lysandra flying, tied to the rope like a kite while they held onto it from below. Maybe, to fly, she would need to inflate like a balloon. At that moment, he couldn't help but laugh to himself, visualizing the woman as a huge floating ball, with a tiny head poking out above and small hands and feet flailing at the sides.

"What amuses you so much, if I may ask?" said Lysandra, suddenly at his side without him noticing. After the last stop, she had decided to continue on horseback, as it seemed her noble buttocks did not enjoy the hard wooden bench of the cart.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he replied, startled. "Just my thoughts. Don't worry, we have only a short ride left. Once we leave the path, we'll have to continue on foot."

"That sounds fine. So, what exactly is your plan?"

"Well… once we get close to the base of the hill where the castle sits, we'll go into the forest. We'll wait for nightfall, then silently climb up to the foot of the walls. We'll have to ditch the cart. We can't drive it through the trees."

"After what it cost us?" said Lysandra, equally surprised and angry. "Sorry, I misspoke. After what it cost 'me'?"

"We can hide it and come back for it later. But it's in such bad shape, I don't think you could sell it for even a quarter of what it cost," replied Alaric sympathetically.

"What it 'cost ' me'. And the grain?"

"If you want to carry it, go ahead. But I would forget about it. The risk is greater than its value."

"Anyway," Lysandra continued with a resigned sigh. "In the end, we could have made the same journey without buying any of that."

"Yes, we've been very lucky not to encounter any patrols. But I prefer to have spent the money and taken precautions than not spent it and had a problem."

"The problem is that it was 'my' money. But there's no going back now. Never mind, we'll get rid of all that, then. What's next? What will we do when we reach the wall?"

"Do you know how to fly, by any chance?" he asked, unable to hide his laughter.

Lysandra looked at him with narrowed eyes, but to Alaric's surprise, she smiled.

"We should have bought a broom instead of a cart, so I could use it to fly like a witch."

"It's a shame you're a sorceress, not a witch," Alaric said, smiling too. "But is it true? Do witches fly on brooms?"

"Of course. And they're all old, with big noses covered in warts. And they eat children. And they live in hidden cabins in the middle of the forest. And they all have a big iron cauldron where they boil frogs and cat eyes," Lysandra replied sarcastically.

"You're pulling my leg," Alaric said with a grimace. "No, seriously. We'll have to climb, with a grappling hook and rope. That's the hardest part. After that, we'll have to move very carefully. I'm afraid they will have strengthened the guard since our last visit. It would help if you had some hidden magic that could make things easier."

"Maybe, but don't think I'm like a fairground 'magician,' constantly doing tricks and pulling doves out of a hat. You've probably noticed by now that every time I use my abilities, I get exhausted. But don't worry, when the time comes, I'll think of something."

"Good to know," Alaric replied, still smiling.

The sun was setting behind the tops of the pine trees, tinting everything a reddish hue. They continued riding in silence for a while along the path that wound through the forest, sometimes gently ascending, other times descending towards small clearings. The birds, sensing the end of the day, began their final song of the day.

"You never answered me," Alaric said after a while.

"About what?" Lysandra said, coming back from wherever her thoughts had taken her.

"About what I asked you last night in the tavern."

"Sorry, I don't remember, could you refresh my memory?"

"About the Count's reasons for wanting that pendant. I can understand that you want to get it back, but for him, it's just a simple jewel, right?"

Lysandra remained silent and thoughtful.

"There is only one reason to want the amulet of Vanar-Gash so desperately. Whoever desires it knows what it can be used for," she finally replied.

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"You think the Count intends to use it, then?" Alaric asked, intuiting the answer.

"Without a doubt. That pendant is not just a simple jewel. It has been imbued with the power of… of what was locked behind the Serpent's door. I've seen what it does to a person's mind. It can dominate and erase their will. If it manages to dominate the Count, it will use him for its own purposes."

"All the more reason to take it away from him. And doesn't that influence affect you?"

"We have been trained since childhood. As guardians, we must be immune to its power."

Alaric reached into one of his vest pockets to take out the linen handkerchief that protected the replica of the medallion. He unwrapped it and looked at it again. "A pretty jewel, yes. But too problematic," he thought.

He noticed that Lysandra was also studying the pendant, thoughtfully. She was up to something.

"Do you still have the leather pouch with money I gave you that night at the mill?" she asked, with an unsettlingly innocent tone.

"Yes, I still have some coins in it. Besides, it's good, fine leather; I wasn't going to throw it away," Alaric replied, puzzled.

"That's what I thought," the woman said, smiling. "I'd like you to keep the medallion's copy in there, if you don't mind. I think it will be safer than just wrapped in the handkerchief."

"Well… as you wish." Her request puzzled him a bit, but if it pleased her, it was a small effort.

As soon as he put the leather pouch back in his pocket, they turned a corner on the path. There, they encountered something he would have preferred not to come across. A group of soldiers, stopped at the side of the road, wearing the colors of Brademond on their uniforms. Most were sitting, some around a small fire cooking something. Others were dozing, leaning against the trees. They were too close to turn back, and besides, that would have been highly suspicious.

"What do we do now?" Lysandra whispered.

"Nothing. Continue as if nothing is wrong. Follow my lead," Alaric replied, lowering his head and pulling up his hood.

They had to risk passing by, there was no other choice. As soon as they reached the soldiers, a pair stood up and halted them.

"Stop in the name of the Count. Who are you, and where are you headed?" the sergeant demanded in an authoritative tone.

"Good day, my lord. My name is Purcell, a grain merchant. And this is my good wife, Lorencia," Alaric replied, putting on a slightly rougher voice.

Lysandra looked at him for a moment, raising an eyebrow, but then quickly turned to the soldier, smiling and nodding.

"And those behind us are our children, Galio and Susanna," he continued. "And the one with the cart is my brother Nestor. We're on our way to Vallefrío. If the gods are kind, we want to get there in time for the market."

"I see," the sergeant grunted, while the other soldier approached the cart with his spear at the ready. "I have a question for you. You haven't happened to come across three men on your way, have you? We've been looking for them around this area for a couple of days."

"Oh, my lord, I couldn't say. We cross paths with many people on the road."

The soldier who had approached the cart began to poke around among the sacks. Then, he stood scrutinizing Crab closely.

"Perhaps if you told us what they look like, we could help you better," Alaric said to the sergeant, to regain his attention.

"See, we don't know what their faces look like," he replied cautiously, studying the group carefully. He was definitely suspicious. "But we do know that one of them is tall and thin. There's another who looks like a young lad. And the last one is big and strong. And he's missing a hand."

As he said this, Alaric noticed the sergeant starting to grip the hilt of his sword tightly. The other soldier was moving the tip of his spear towards Crab's sleeve, as if to push it aside. And the rest of the group of men were watching them intently.

"You wear curious clothes for simple merchants," the sergeant observed, suspiciously.

"Thank you, my lord. For me, that's a compliment. I'm a seamstress," Lysandra quickly replied. Alaric was pleasantly surprised, as it wasn't a bad response. "Perhaps you could recommend me at the castle if they ever need a mender…"

Despite the clever response, the sergeant still seemed unconvinced. Alaric quickly weighed the situation. He had him close and in front. He could probably trample him with the horse before he drew his sword. Crab wouldn't have many problems dealing with the other soldier. However, escaping would be complicated. There were eight, that he had seen, and the cart couldn't run fast enough. Besides, he didn't trust how the women would react. What could he do to buy the others time to escape? Suddenly, the situation had become very complicated. Perhaps, if he rode towards the soldiers' mounts, he could scare them away before…

"My sergeant, this man is not the one we're looking for; he doesn't lack any hand," intervened the soldier next to the cart.

Alaric turned around, surprised. He looked at Crab, and indeed, where there was once a rough, ugly metal claw, now there was a perfect hand. With its five fingers and everything. Crab himself couldn't help but stare at it in astonishment. He turned to Lysandra, who also seemed surprised. Then he noticed Zarinia, half-hidden behind the cart. Her eyes were white, and she was reciting something, though no voice could be heard. He saw her wobble in the saddle, but before she could fall exhausted, good old Wart caught her by the shoulder. He understood what she had just done and smiled.

"Alright, continue. But keep your eyes wide open, those people are dangerous. Alert any guard you find if you see them."

"We will do so, my lord. May your day be blessed."

They resumed their journey, while the sergeant continued to watch them suspiciously.

"Wait a moment," he said, a moment later, firmly. "There are still four days until the market in Vallefrío, but you're only two days' travel away."

Alaric felt a knot in his throat and looked at Lysandra, who had also turned pale. He tightly gripped the reins, in case he needed to spur the horse quickly.

"I think it would be better for you to head to the castle and spend the night by the wall. It will be safer for you. They won't let you in with the goods until the market day, and in the meantime, you'll have to camp outside the city. You'd be easy prey for bandits. I'll have two of my men accompany you up there; it's only a couple of hours at a slow pace."

"Eh… Thank you very much, my lord," said Alaric, who could hardly believe it. He looked at Lysandra, who was equally stupefied. "I think it's a good idea, right, dear? Thank this good man."

"Of course. Thank you, my lord."

The sergeant called over two soldiers and ordered them to accompany the group to the castle. He remained thoughtful, studying them as they walked away.

"Stop!" he shouted after they'd only gone a few meters.

"Did he see something? Did he change his mind?" Alaric wondered, clenching his fists.

"One last thing," the sergeant said, approaching Lysandra. "When you arrive, tell the castellan that you're a seamstress. I'm sure he'll have work for you. We have many uniforms up there that need mending."