For a long moment both sides stood silently staring at one another, evaluating the possibilities. The soldiers looked particularly at the ghostly Selima, as everyone did, wondering what strange, unearthly being she might be.
The leader, looking slender even in the armor that covered his form, spoke in a surprisingly high voice, as might a teenage boy. “What business have you trespassing on the lands of Buryan? You’re obviously not traders, and you have no permission from the king. Perhaps you’re spies sent to scout our weaknesses.”
“I am no spy,” Prince Ahmad insisted strongly. “I’m a warrior like yourself, on a mission of great importance on behalf of our lord Oromasd.”
“A holy pilgrimage?” the leader asked. “Ravan is in that direction. You’re all turned around.”
“Not a pilgrimage, bu
