Hardan reined away from the bluff. They made too perfect targets against the illumination of the fire. But suddenly he arrested the little party's advance with a hiss of warning.
From the pale darkness before them the sound of distant shouts and shrieks came to them. The caravan was being attacked—or the outlaw sarifs had been freed!
"Spread out," Hardan commanded tensely, "as we reach the wagons. That way we will present a poorer target."
He dug his heels into the maar's sleek sides and they galloped forward along the rutted broad track of the wagon train.
The fighting had ended by the time they traversed the half mile gap that lay between them. The wagons were halted in a jumbled confused S-shaped tangle in the growing dawn. Only a sullen silence greeted them, but they saw dark movement against the slant-roofed bulk of the wagons.
"Hold!" warned Hardan. "Let me ride forward. It may be a trap."
And then, from a clump of wagons further along the snaking train, a maar and rider pounded out into the grasslands and headed in their direction. A man shouted something, and a confused chorus of yells answered him. After the lone rider a dozen other mounted men raced.
"It's a woman!" Malth Jed grunted, his bow ready in his thick fingers. "The white-robed novice of Zo Aldan Ra."
"Then they've overcome Dandu Mot and freed the red-bearded one," Hardan muttered, readying his own weapons.