“Would it not be safer to risk the ford?” he asked of Fire doubtfully.
“Nay, Lord, for there we should certainly be seen and perhaps killed upon the bank, whereas here, where no man crosses, they may not note us from so far away. Follow me now before the light strengthens.”
Then, having patted his horse and whispered into its ear in the Arab fashion, he rode into the flood. After him came Khian, followed by another of the brethren and by Temu. Last of all rode the remaining two brethren, those who were known as Air and Water.
The horses went in bravely enough, and soon Khian saw that Fire’s was swimming while its rider had slipped from its back and floated alongside, holding fast to the mane or saddle. Presently Khian’s horse also lost foothold and as Fire had done, so did Khian. The swim was long and rough, for the swiftly running water, chilled by the night air, drove them downstream and sometimes broke over their heads. Yet those trained horses held on bravely, smelling the pastures where they were born beyond the desert, and being, as Fire had said that they would be, eager to reach them.
At last they touched the farther shore and Khian, still clinging to the horse, was dragged through the rushes to firm ground. As he came there he heard a shout of “Help!” and looking round, saw Temu’s horse struggling up the bank, but unaccompanied by Temu, who indeed, having let go, was floundering in the deep water and being swept down by the current at a distance from the shore. All this the strengthening light showed to them, whereon without a word two of the brethren plunged into the stream and swam to Temu whose shouts grew ever louder. They reached him and with difficulty between them dragged him to the shore, much frightened, but unharmed and still calling to gods and men to save him.
Then one of those strange, fierce brethren drew a knife, saying:
“Will you be silent? Or shall I make you so, who are bringing us all to death?”
“Your pardon,” said Temu when he understood, “but my mother always taught me that he who drowns in silence, drowns the most quickly; also I ask you to note that my prayers have saved me.”
Muttering words that Temu would have thought evil, Fire helped to thrust him on to his horse and signed to the others to mount theirs.
“Hearken, Lord Rasa,” he said, as they pushed their way through the thorn bushes that grew on the bank of the water, “ill-fortune is our companion. The shouts of that mad priest will almost certainly have been heard. Would that he had choked before his throat shaped them. Moreover, he has delayed us, so that the morning wind blows away the mist which I hoped would shroud us for a while. Now there is but one thing to be done—ride straight for the gap in the hills and through the pass. Our horses are better than any the Shepherds have, though theirs will be more fresh, and we, or some of us, may outpace them. At the least, remember this, Lord Rasa, if so in truth you are named, we four brethren will do all that men can to save you, and we pray you, if we meet no more, so to report to a certain Lady whom we serve, and to the Prophet and Council of the Dawn, that our memory may be honoured among men.”