Jules clung to Ravin's back as they galloped through the night, the houses of the Stone Town blurring in the rhythm of Opal's hoofbeat. The castle grew before them, a grey block of stone against the black sky, with torches burning on the wall like motionless fireflies.

The hunter reined in before the gate. He dismounted hastily and banged his fist against the iron door. The thump echoed in the silent night; only a raven sleeping on the canopy cawed with indignation.

"Open the gate!" the hunter roared. Something moved on the parapet walk; a shadow of a man leaned to look down at them, then straightened and trotted back toward the tower of the guardhouse.

The chains creaked, the portcullis lifted slowly, and the gate opened. Ravin detached the bag with the swamper's head from the saddle and cast his apprentice a short glance.

"Take care of Opal," he commanded before storming toward the castle door, dark blood seeping through the bag and tracing his way.

Jules looked up at the raven; the bird stood still, staring at him with a disturbing intensity. A shiver ran down the boy's spine. He readjusted himself in the saddle, took the reins and rode through the gate into the castle yard.

"Lead the way, buddy," he leaned to whisper to the stallion's ear. "I have no idea where the stable is."

Opal neighed quietly, then walked the far, dark end of the yard. He stopped right before the stable door, waiting for Jules to dismount. The door cracked in the hinges when the boy pulled it open. Ravens cracked and flew, circled the yard and landed on the roof above the door, tilting their heads and watching.

Jules patted the stallion's neck, then took the bridle to lead the horse inside. As they stepped into the darkness, he extended his hand and conjured the ball of magical light. It's glow reached the closest boxes, falling gently on the sleeping steeds.

"Let's find a place for you," the boy led the horse down the aisle between the boxes, keeping the magical light small and low as not to disturb the other animals. He muffled a yawn and rubbed his face, smearing the drying mud over his nose. "That's been a hard night, hasn't it?"

Just as Opal whinnied in response, Jules heard a rustle - a horse must have stirred in its sleep - but then a loud flop made the boy halt. A three-legged stool rolled into the circle of light provided by the bluish ball. In the darkness, just where the glow didn't reach, something moved in the air, groaning and cracking...

"Who's there?" Jules demanded.

The horses around woke up and neighed, alarmed. Only Opal stood still and silent, pricking his ears. Jules detached his reila from the saddle, then held it between himself and the darkness. Straining his Sixth Sense, he searched for a supernatural presence. A faint smell of wet soil and rottenness reached his nostrils, so weak he wasn't sure if it was real or he only imagined it. He stepped forward with the weapon in his hands.

The bluish light pulled out of the darkness a figure trashing in the air. A man, hanging down from a balk, with a loop of a thick rope clenched around his neck. The rope crackled under his weight; he threw his hands in the air, dangled them like a drowning man, trying to reach and loosen the loop... He rotated toward Jules; the glow reached his mad, bloodshot eyes.

Jules righted the stool, jumped on in and swung his reila at the rope. The man fell onto the ground with a thump.  He wriggled, tugging at the loop, choking and sputtering.

"Somebody help me!" the boy yelled at the top of his lungs. The horses neighed and his voice barely made it out of the uproar. He kneeled by the stranger. The loop was tight; the boy took his hunting knife and tried to cut it, but the blade was too thick and unwieldy. "HELP!"

Two guards stormed into the stable with halberds and torches.

"Move!" the first one pushed Jules aside and knelt by the man. He threw the halberd away. "Jack!"

The other guard handed the torch over to Jules, then tore a knife out of a sheath by his belt. Having forced the man to lie face-down, he started to cut the rope unmindful of the many little wounds he inflicted on the back of the man's neck.

"You're a damn lucky dog, Norrison!" he barked. "You won't get off this world so easily!"

The rope let go. The man called Jack Norrison lay on the floor, panting and trying to push away the guardsman's hands.

"No...! She'll... She'll get me...!" he spluttered. "I'll be next!

"You, boy," The guards lifted the man off the floor. "Go get the Captain!"

Jules scrambled up and raced out of the stable. He had to find him fast - not Rogre, but his master. It must have been her - the ghost - that Norrison had been talking about. One ghost, two suicide attempts. But what connected a Lord with a mere servant? Why a ghost would have targetted them both?

Jules shivered in the wind. A raven flew down from the dark sky and landed right before him, barring his way. The boy stamped his feet to scare the bird away. It croaked and disappeared in the night.

He pushed open the heavy door of the castle and stormed into the hall. He ran through the empty corridors, the golden glow of the torch sliding over the stone walls, casting deep shadows at the columns supporting the ceiling and waking up the portraits of the former Lords of Arvene.

Jules reached Kedmon Arver's office and pulled the door open without knocking. The chamber turned out to be empty - only the charred logs petered out in the fireplace. The boy ran to the staircase; racing up two steps at a time he hurried to the Lord's chamber.

He ran into the room without knocking. The blonde apprentice healeress flinched violently on the stool where she sat by the Lord's bed. Ravin, feeding the fire with fresh logs, turned around and straightened.

"Jules? What-?"

"It's her!" the boy closed the door, casting the blonde girl an unsure look. She gazed at him, a mixture of astonishment and indignation plastered on her face. "I mean, her, Ravin. I found... come on, it's important!"

"Can I leave you alone, Evionel?" the hunter turned to the girl as his apprentice kicked his heels. "Or should I send somebody to assist you?"

"I'm sure Lara will be here soon," she muttered, blushing. "Cutting out swampers' glands doesn't take long."

Jules grimaced as he imagined the healeress slicing the swamper's skull. He shook his head to get rid of the image. He hurried to the door, waiting impatiently for Ravin to follow him.

"What happened?" the hunter asked as they left the chamber.

"I found a man, he tried to hang himself!" Jules handed the torch over to his master. "He acted a bit like Lord Harald, like a madman, you know. And he mentioned her trying to get him!"

Trotting by Ravin's side, Jules wondered how a human could walk that fast; he gave his master a sideways glance trying to figure out what was on his mind, but Ravin's expression was unreadable.

When they entered the guardhouse, Jules followed his master upstairs. A crowd of guardsmen gathered in the narrow corridor; some of them wore uniforms, some stood in their nightclothes, shocked from sleep. They swarmed around an open door, the closest ones peeking inside. Inarticulate whining came out of that room, hoarse, muttered words that could not be understood.

As the men noticed the hunter was coming, they got out of his way, pressing onto walls and other doors. Jules slipped into the room behind Ravin before the crowd came together again.

Jack Norrison thrashed on a bed, surrounded by four men who held his limbs and pressed him to the mattress. His moves seemed heavy and slow, but the men's faces were reddened with effort.

"Everyone out," Ravin ordered. The guardsmen hesitated. "Leave me alone with him. Now."

Jules knew that tone, but he still couldn't disobey it. The four men let go of Norrison's arms and legs and pulled out off the room.

"Close the door!" the hunter called.

Once the door was shut, he approached the bed. Jules followed him like a shadow.

Norrison wiggled; his arms and legs skipped, but he seemed too weak to move. His eyes, still bloodshot, were watery and cloudy.

Ravin sat down on the bed by him and looked at him critically. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and gave it a squeeze - only then Norrison raised his head, but his eyes wandered, unfocused.

"She'll get me," he rasped out. His neck was swollen, almost double-size, covered with bloody bruises.

"Tell me everything you know about her and I'll keep you safe," Ravin said slowly. "I must know who she is and what she was -"

"She'll get me!" Norrison gasped out. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "She'll get me. She'll get me. She'll..."

The hunter let go of Norrison's shoulder. Then, he noticed an uncorked, empty bottle on the night table standing by the bed.

"We've come too late" He raised the bottle to his nose and sniffed. "See yourself," he handed it over to his apprentice.

The boy smelt and grimaced at the strong, herbal odour. A sleeping potion. He knew its scent as well as its taste; Ravin had used it on him for the first few weeks after his mother and sister's death. At that time, the mixture had been his salvation - a few drops would provide him with dreamless sleep without the memories of his little sister's body haunting him.

"Damn it!" the boy put the bottle on the table with a thump. "I should have told them you'd need to question him!"

Before Ravin responded to him, the door burst open and Captain Rogre marched into the room.

"What the hell is going on?!" he halted at the sight of the hunters. "And what happened to you two?"

The master and the apprentice looked at each other, only now remembering they were all covered in mud.

"Don't even ask," Ravin shook his head. "Let me know when Norrison wakes up."

He put a hand on Jules back and pushed him lightly toward the door. They went out of the guardhouse, into the chilly night, and headed toward the castle. They walked across the yard when the boy halted.

"I forgot about Opal," he remembered. "I didn't have time to unsaddle him. And I left the reilas."

The hunter nodded, turning in the stable's direction. As they approached the building, a gust of cold wind made Jules cringe. The boy held his nose at the sudden, unbearable stink.

A cloud of white mist swirled to take a form on a young woman. She looked straight into the boy's eyes and gave him a malevolent smile.

"Don't get in my way, hunters," she spoke softly.

Before Jules could react, the stable door burst open. Opal raced out of the darkness, whining in panic; he galloped through the ghost's misty body and she disappeared, her warning still echoing in the boy's ears.