Chapter One

THE LAST RIDE

  Yaroun drove the horses as hard as he could, breathing heavily from exertion. He could not be late. For then Krak would deprive him of a whole week's pay. Krak was fastidious and would only give money for water delivered to him before dawn. With the first rays of the sun, all these bottles could be thrown away here on the road. They wouldn't be worth a cent any longer.

  Yaroun turned round. Behind his back was a basket, and in it were some water bottles wrapped in rags. Bring them and you'll get a gold coin. But only until sunrise.

  When you're paid money, you have to put up with the customer's oddities. Krak always gave only odd jobs. The water was to be taken and delivered only before sunrise. Moreover, it had to be collected from the most unpleasant, one might even say unclean, places: from the goat swamp, where they say goblins roam at night; from the brook by the Black Oak - and who doesn't know that the water there can change its colour during the day; from an old cave full of bats.

But a gold coin a day is a lot. People in the village say that Krak is a sorcerer. Of course, he's no ordinary man, but why should he be a sorcerer? He lives alone in an old castle, that's true, keeps no servants, receives no one, and there you have it - everyone's sure they've got him figured out.

  Yaroun was rushing towards the castle. He had to hurry. He didn't want to lose the money he had earned. Especially now, when he was going to marry the innkeeper's daughter, Narzeliya. And the son-in-law of a man like the innkeeper should have a tight purse.

  Finally, Yaroun brought the horses to a halt beneath the castle walls. He seemed to have succeeded. The sun was still out. He waited, glancing at the blackened window above.

  The good times of the castle were long gone. Either Krak didn't have the money to tidy it up, or the owner liked the desolation. It was dangerous to stand under the walls: something could snap off and break your head. The gusts of wind made the castle creak with different voices. Every door, window, and crevice howled in its own way. A newcomer here would have been scared to death. Though Yaroun came here every day, he too would flinch occasionally, especially when the wind began to rumble through the broken windows.

  Yaroun stood with his head back, waiting for the castle master to appear in the window.

  Usually, a rope with a basket descended from the window, where Yaroun put the bottles, large and small, and purchases if Krak ordered something. At the bottom of the basket, Yaroun would find notes with orders and coins wrapped in cloth.

  He was beginning to feel the cold...