The victory feast lasted all the next day and most of the following night. It took place in the mangrove forest, that being the only area of dry land large enough for all four thousand lizard men to gather at once, leaving all their villages empty. The dead pakin-kho were roasted over open fires and carved up, and every lizard man from the youngest hatchling to the very oldest greyscale lined up for his or her portion, sealing their victory by eating the flesh of the enemy. They offered Drake a portion of the pink meat, but he politely declined, not knowing whether it would be proper. The pakin-kho weren't human, so it wasn't exactly cannibalism, but they were intelligent creatures, even though evil. The lizard men didn't seem at all concerned about the issue, though, and tucked in with gusto.

     When the eating was over they began singing and dancing, while a group of them shrieked a tune accompanied by a variety of percussion instruments made mainly from animal bones. Their singing had to be heard to be believed, consisting mainly of howls and screams that only occasionally followed the music, as if by accident, and their dancing was unlike anything that any human was capable of, with steps that depended entirely on the balancing weight of their tails. It looked clumsy and ungraceful, but they put their whole heart and soul into it, expressing themselves with complete abandon and lack of self consciousness.

     It was obvious to anyone that they were having a great time, and the young priest became aware that he was seeing something that few people of other races had ever seen before. Lizard men were usually distrustful and suspicious of outsiders, especially humans, and tended to act in a highly restrained and cold mannered fashion in their presence, but now they were totally open and relaxed, treating him, a human, as though he were one of their own, and Drake was overcome by the honour they were doing him. How many other people in all history have been to a lizard man victory party, he wondered as a group of lizard men missed their step and collapsed in a heap, making a group of others howl with laughter. Not a soulless, stage managed affair, such as they sometimes arranged for the benefit of visiting dignitaries, but the real thing? He did his best to absorb and memorise as much of what was going on around him as possible, knowing that this would be a memory he would treasure for the rest of his life.

     Gradually they wore themselves out and the pace of the celebrations began to slow, and Drake took the opportunity to grab their attentions and lead them all in a prayer of thankfulness and gratitude to Samnos. That seemed to mark the end of the victory feast, and after that they began to drift away in dribs and drabs to find somewhere to collapse and fall asleep. Drake forced himself to stay awake another half hour, however, while a few hundred of the younger and more energetic lizard men were still busy having a good time, before he returned to his hut and collapsed on the bed.

     Drake remained with the lizard men for another two weeks, just in case the pakin-kho decided to send another army, but they didn't. He hadn't expected them to. For all their evil, the pakin-kho were a practical race and wouldn't risk any more of their warriors attacking people who had clearly learned to defend themselves, not when those warriors were needed to defend their own undersea cities. The waters of the Great Lake were a dangerous place, and they had many enemies who would just love the chance to attack their cities while they were undefended and steal the riches that the fish men had pillaged and looted over the centuries. Besides, they had to know that the lizard men's supply of the resin was almost exhausted. It would be years before the special bulrush from which it was obtained had recovered to the point where they could harvest more. No, there was almost no chance they'd be back, and sure enough the two weeks went past uneventfully, with not a sign of them.

     When Drake announced that he was leaving, hundreds of lizard men from several of the nearest villages turned up to see him off. They lined up along both sides of the ridge, shouting and cheering at him with their hissing, barking voices, their tails waving behind them, while the karderans of half a dozen villages gathered around to give him an official send off. One of them handed him a clay bottle about six inches tall, containing a sticky yellow resin. "Here iss the ssu'sstance you assked for," he said. "It iss of no further usse to uss."

     Drake removed the stopper to look in, and a pungent smell came out. He replaced the stopper quickly. "So this is what it was all about," he said. "You're sure you've got no idea what they wanted it for?"

     "No idea at all," replied the lizard man. "It iss a ‘ysstery to uss. It hass, sso far ass we know, no value whatssoever."

     "Well, I'll get an alchemist to look at it. Those creatures must have wanted it for something, and I want to know what it was. It may be important." He tucked it into one of the pockets of his red robes, now washed clean and repaired. "And now I must be going. Goodbye, it's been a privilege knowing you."

     "Farewell, Ro'ert Drake," said the karderan. "We will never forget you. You have taught uss that if you want ‘eace, you ‘usst ‘e ‘re'ared to fight for it. Fro' now on, we will a'andon Grillssin, our God, who never did anything for uss, and worsshi' Ssa'noss, the God who hel'ed uss in our ti'e of need. Hail Ssa'noss, ssaviour of the lizard ‘en!"

     "Hail Ssa'noss!" cried all the assembled lizard men, and Drake felt himself go weak at the knees with emotion. He had never dared hope that he might be able to convert the lizard men from the worship of their non-existent false god Grillssin to the worship of Samnos. This was indeed an accomplishment to be proud of, and he knew that the God of War would be greatly pleased with him. The danger now, however, was that he might fall victim to that deadliest of all the enemies of righteous men, pride. He would have to spend an extra hour or so in prayer and meditation every night for the next few weeks to maintain the proper level of humility, and some extra weapons training might also be in order. He hadn't been at all happy with his prowess against the pakin-kho. There was definitely a great deal of room for improvement.

     After one last round of goodbyes, the young priest finally got around to leaving and set off south along the ridge while the lizard men waved and cheered after him. A few followed him for a mile or two, wanting to delay the parting as long as possible, but then they reluctantly turned back, leaving him all alone for the first time since leaving Ilandia, following the path that Gallit and the others had taken three months before. It was nearly a hundred miles to Calmany, and he estimated that it would take him about a week to get there. That was a long time to be alone in a swamp filled with all kinds of dangerous, evil creatures, but he was confident that he would be able to make it. He was going back to Fort Battleaxe, and woe betide anything that tried to stop him.

     It took him seven days in the end, the delay being due to another lizard man community he ran across, nowhere near as pleasant and hospitable as the first. It served as a reminder that the first community was a highly unusual exception, and that the vast majority was just as Gallit had described them. Not exactly evil, but bad tempered and aggressive. He had to kill two of them and hide in the swamp to escape the rest, wading through the clammy water to the next ridge while fighting off crocodiles, snakes and swamp sharks. It was with great relief that he climbed onto the shrub choked ridge at the end of the day, and he wondered with concern whether the others had also gotten past them safely. For a while, he considered sneaking back and checking, but he knew that if any of them had been captured, it was by now far too late to help them. Over three months too late. He just had to hope that they'd be there waiting for him when he got home.

     As he continued south, the lakes of open water became steadily fewer and the deadly soft marshes slowly dried out, the reeds gradually giving way to grass and scrubland. He continued to follow the ridge for as far as it went, but it got steadily lower until it could no longer be distinguished from the surrounding land. Drake felt a moment of exultation as he felt firm, dry land under his feet and realised that he had succeeded in crossing the Blackwater Marshes, but he forced it down, concentrating on what lay ahead instead of what lay behind. He wasn't home yet.

     He saw a herd of cattle grazing a few hundred yards away, and realised that he was on a farm. A few minutes of walking took him to a low hedgerow, on the other side of which was a narrow mudtrack, which he followed until he came to a group of farm buildings. A farmer, stacking bales of hay, saw him and came running over in astonishment. "A priest of Samnos!" he cried. "We don't see many of your calling around these parts. Where did you come from? This road doesn't go anywhere except to the marshes!"

     "That's where I'm from," replied Drake. "I crossed the marshes."

     "But that's imposs... Pardon me, Sir, but that's quite an achievement! I've never heard of anyone doing that before!"

     Drake's heart sank. "Then no-one came before me? About three months ago?"

     "No, why? You mean someone else did the same thing?"

     "Someone else tried." There was still hope, however. If Drake hadn't been forced to change ridges by the lizard men, he would have emerged from the swamp ten or fifteen miles west of there, and would never have met this particular farmer. The others might have passed through one of the neighbouring farms, possibly without being seen until they reached the nearest town.

     The farmer suddenly gave a guilty start. "Oh! Pardon me, Sir, I'm forgetting my manners. You must be worn out after such a journey. Won't you come in and rest a while? Have a cup of bal... er tea? You might even want to stay the night and have supper with us. We'd be honoured to have you."

     "Thank you, I am rather weary." replied Drake. "If I could just borrow a corner of your stables for the night, I'd be very grateful."

     "The stables, Hell!" said the farmer. "Since our eldest went off to join the army, we've got a perfectly good spare room. You can use that." He ran off towards the house, Drake following at a slow, respectful walk. "Doreen! Doreen! Light the fire, put the kettle on! We've got a visitor!"

     A thin, fragile looking woman stuck her head out of the door just as the farmer reached it. "What is it, Norm? Ooh!" She came scuttling out, brushing imaginary crumbs from her pinnie and running her hands through her hair in an attempt to smooth it down. "Ooh sir, this is a great honour! Pardon my appearance, we weren't expecting..."

     "Shut yer tattlin', woman, and put the kettle on!" said the farmer. "The man's come a long way, he doesn't want to listen to all your..."

     "Please!" interrupted Drake. "There's no need to make a great fuss on my account." He took off his fearsome helmet in an attempt to make himself look a little more human and tucked it under his arm, taking care not to cut himself on the crest of spikes. His hair had grown quite long during his time in the marshes, softening the look of his face considerably. If he'd still had his crew cut, he would have looked almost as frightening without his helmet as with it, but as it was the farmer and his wife relaxed visibly, and after that the young priest was treated much more like an ordinary guest. They took him inside, sat him down and gave him a cup of Calmanian tea, hot and spicy.

     After telling him that he could have a good wash and a clean up if he wanted to, very welcome after his time in the marshes, the busy farmer went back out to get on with his work. Then Doreen boiled up some water for him and disappeared into the kitchen while Drake stripped off and had a bath. He'd washed in a stream the day before, scraping the mud from his clothes and skin, but he was still surprised at the colour of the water when he'd finished, he hadn't realised he was still that dirty. He accepted Doreen's offer to give his clothes a proper wash, but wouldn't let her touch his blood red robes. You had to be careful how you washed blood red, and it had already faded a little as a result of the lizard men's attentions. He would wash it himself later. He knew how to look after it.

     He thought it would be impolite to dress up in his weapons and chain mail while he was a guest, so he accepted Doreen's offer and borrowed some of their eldest son's clothes for the time being, wearing only his golden griffin pendant to identify himself as a priest of Samnos and carrying only a single dagger, tucked discreetly away inside his shirt. His every instinct warned him not to go around completely unarmed, even under these circumstances. Consequently, when the farmer, his two younger sons and his daughter returned that evening, expecting to find a fearsome priest of Samnos in full costume and regalia, they were a little disappointed to find a large, muscular, but otherwise rather ordinary looking man wearing clothes a little too small for him. Drake barely managed to conceal a smile at the sight of their expressions of disappointment. Sorry, good people, he thought. You've caught me at the wrong moment. Wait ‘til tomorrow morning, though. I'll dress up for you when I leave.