From their concealment behind a wall of rocks that rested against a dusty ridge in the plains around the city of Acre, two pairs of eyes watched the northwards departure of the travellers. One of the pairs of eyes belonged to Hassan, a follower of the great Muslim leader and sultan of the lands of Egypt and Syria: Salah ad-Din. He glanced at his companion. "Those infidel are not departing with the rest of the Crusader army. Perhaps they are deserters?"

"No. They are not. I know those two." Hassan's companion spoke softly, but her voice was clear even through the layers of cloth she had wrapped around her head. "They are fools, but they are dangerous for all that. Do not make the mistake of underestimating them." These last words were barely audible, as if the speaker did not intend them to be heard by anyone but herself.

"Then if they are not cowards, what are they doing? They must have some plan, yes?"

"I am sure they do." Hassan's companion lowered her head and was silent. Then she laughed. To Hassan's ears it sounded like the chiming of glass bells. The soldier stared at her in bemusement, and wondered if she was mad.

"What?" he asked. "What amuses you?"

"The two closest cities from here are Tyre and Damascus."

"Of course," Hassan answered warily, unsure of what his companion was thinking.

"And of those cities, only Damascus is in the hands of your lord, Salah ad-Din?"

"As it has always been. The Outremer Kings and their armies have never dared to dispute his claim."

Hassan's companion nodded, the motion barely visible under her headdress. "Good. Then I will meet them in Damascus."

"How can you be sure? Two lone infidel would be mad to seek to enter Damascus. There are many ships in the harbour at Tyre. What makes you so sure that these two will not seek passage back to their homeland?"

"Oh, they will not. I am sure of that. One of them is a barbarian wizard. The other is Richard of Warwick - al faris al dhahabiu."

As soon as those words reached Hassan's ears, he stiffened and his face filled with amazement. "Al faris al dhahabiu? But he is a great swordsman - and a man of honour! He would not desert his lord unless ... ?" He looked at his companion, expecting her to answer his question.

"Unless he was on some other quest, yes. And in Tyre there is nothing that a wizard and a warrior would be interested in. Just gold and merchants."

Hassan nodded, the thoughts of his companion now clear. "But in Damascus it is said that there are many mysteries. And wizards love nothing more than secrets." His companion turned to look at him, her kohl-rimmed eyes visible between the folds of dust-yellow cloth that were wound about her. Hassan tried to return the stare.

"Of course." This time her voice was like the watered silk from far-off Cathay. "Now do you understand why I am so sure?" Hassan nodded. "But there is no need to make haste. I will need time to prepare." Hassan's companion stood up from behind the rocks and shook the sand and dust from her aba. "I will need a mount. And food and water for the journey."

"And an escort?"

The woman laughed again. "I do not need protection. But ... ." She helped Hassan to his feet, pulling hard on his arm with a force that belied her form. "But a strong and willing sword arm may prove to be useful."

"I will see what can be done."

"No." With a swift gesture, the woman reached under her topcoat and pulled out a dagger. Hassan recoiled, his hand moving towards his sword. It was stopped by a firm grip.

"No. You will come with me." Hassan's companion had pulled back her keffiyeh to reveal sallow skin, full lips and feminine eyes. She held up a dagger - one with a hilt that resembled a burning flame. In the harsh, Mediterranean sunlight, the hilt seemed to glow and its colours seemed to shift. Hassan felt his gaze drawn towards it. "You will come with me," the woman repeated.

Hassan nodded. "I will come with you." His words were halting and devoid of emotion.

"You aid me in my task."

"I will aid you in your task."

"You will not question my authority."

"I will not question your authority."

"You will ... ." The woman's voice failed and her body sagged as if exhausted by some great physical effort. Hassan surged forward, his arms held out to catch her before she fell to the ground. For a moment, Hassan felt the weight of her body against his; then, just as suddenly, the burden was lifted from him.

"Are you alright?"

The woman nodded. "I am. It is just ... ." She waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal, using the momentary distraction to scoop up her dagger from where it had fallen before Hassan noticed. "It is nothing for you to concern yourself with."

A spectre of confusion tugged at Hassan's thoughts, then vanished. He knew what he had to do. "I shall accompany you to Damascus. No - do not refuse. My mother and my sisters would never forgive me if I did not. Now, we shall need horses. And food. And water." Hassan began to pick his way through the scrub, still listing all the preparations that the two would have to make for their journey to Damascus.

Behind him, despite her moment of weakness, Leah of the Brotherhood of the Flame allowed herself a smile of satisfaction.