Stormaway and Danton lay hidden behind a hedge of hawthorns close to the track leading to the encampment. They were both dressed in worn travellers’ clothing. Danton was seriously unimpressed with the cut of his jacket, but had wisely decided not to comment. Stormaway had a glamour in place that made him look old and unkempt, with his features altered sufficiently to make him unrecognisable.
Every now and then a dispirited group of weary shaken travellers passed close by, flanked by armed men. The travellers did not seem to be prisoners. In fact, the armed guards were friendly, chatty and even solicitous.
“This is very strange,” whispered Stormaway. “I don’t understand it at all.”
“Perhaps the armed guards are escorts to protect the travellers on their journey.”
The wizard shook his he
