The time came when the tribe was ready to set off. Things moved at a slow pace, although the desire to move after the herds was almost tangible. The fact that they had arrived at the pool within days of the travellers" arrival was terrific fortune for them, but not for Maolsechlan. From his vantage point on a hillock far south from Tarim and his daughter, he could see the dust stir as things readied for the departure. The tribe would be easy to track.
They moved slowly, leaving massive tracks that were hard to erase. True, time and the elements would have some effect, but the movement of the nomads was well documented from within the city. Maolsechlan imagined it from the hillock he was crouched upon. The bleak towers, the dark stone of the battlements. It called to him, whispering his na
