‘Whither shall this day lead, good sir? I do not believe you have finished your tale, so mayhap our road will travel together for a time yet.’

Ciril raised himself carefully, looking most thoughtful for one so young. He nodded slowly before rising and seeing to his horse.

‘Yes, it may well be so. Sir, are you knowledgeable in the ways of dreams? To what they portend or echo and whither such conjuration of the mind can me made material in the world?’

‘I am as knowledgeable of such things as any man can be, for each mind is as a separate island, with it’s own dangers and fruits. Say your dream, and I will lend what advice I see fit.’

As they mounted their horses Ciril told of a dream in which he had been running at a great pace and yet seemingly going nowhere. Eventually, exhausted as it made him, he fell to his knees and looked at the sand which lay beneath them. There, in the sand, he uncovered that which seemed to him to be the very face of his father. It was rotten and scowling, and as time passed at an increased rate it dissolved into the sand beneath his fingers, and Ciril was left on his knees scraping at sand while all around him a burning hit wind raged. The jester thought on this, and spake thus.

‘You father, tell me of him.’

‘But the dream…?’ said Ciril, looking over at the jester, clearly anxious to know what such evil omens may suggest.

‘To know your mind I must first know it’s origin. Tell me of he whom the sand captured.’

Ciril took a deep breath, and started once more to speak.

‘My father was a knight, as I have said. He did great deeds of arms in my country, and was respected all about as a just man and true.’

The jester held up a black gloved finger to silence Ciril.

‘If I may interrupt. Pray answer yea or nay to the questions I shall put to you now. Do you seek your father in the kingdom of your enemy?’

‘It is so—but how…?’

‘Yea, or nay.’

‘Yea.’

‘Is your father a man to whom power is a virtue?’

‘Power in any man is to be respected…yea.’

‘Is your father in the employ of your enemy?’

‘I know not. When I returned home there was naught but word of his departure to search for us. Too late, I fear.’

‘Ay. I may be able to tell you of the fate of your father, though tis but my opinion and not based yet on known fact. I would say that, on finding your enemy he was beguiled with fine words and fine wine, for a knight so strong as your father would undoubtedly be a great ally if this war of which you speak is proved true. Either he refused, so was caught in a hostile city with little chance of escape and was slain, or he took the offers and is as we speak the sword arm of the evil which you wish to crush. This is as I see it.’

‘Sir, I know not even your name and yet you propose to insult my father in my presence. Have mind for what I have said before next you place stains on a reputation you know but shades of.’

‘Calm good Ciril, calm. I seek only to avoid unpleasantness which man is known to seek with a vengeance. Think on’t for a time. Should I prove correct, your father is no longer the good and true man you spoke of, rather he is an agent of that most foul being you wish to banish. Should it prove so, would you be willing to take arms against him to see your mothers avenged?’

‘Should it prove so,’ replied Ciril, keeping calm with visible effort in the face of the jesters examination. ‘I would seek to ally myself with him and take battle by his side to the seat of my enemy.’

‘If he found the allure of grand promises more outweighs the dept of blood he owes you, what then would your action be? Is your hatred for the seemingly innocent fate of your mothers enough reason to slay he who bore you?’

‘You forget that my sister is kidnapped, sir. To free her is enough reason to go hence, and for the self-same reason I cannot believe that if my father truly is with the cursed villain he would allow hard to come to her. I shall find her, just as I will find my father and together we will fell the evil one.’

‘A noble cause indeed, Ciril. Worthy of a knight no less. Would your mind be swayed if I said that your father is beyond help now and your sister was not taken by this man as you think but by a band of desert brigands who wished revenge for your repeated victories en-route to the city?’

‘It would not, sir. If what you say about the desert brigands proves just I shall seek them with the aid of those friendly inhabitants of that great sand sea who helped be before. As to my fathers fate I will not believe that mere money could cause such a man to abandon all love for his son and daughter. It is never so, and any man who gives credence to the thought would comfortably call the sky a sea.’

‘You faith in your father is commendable, and I see no words will sway your course. So do as you may, go hastily into that desert which slew you once and will most likely do so again. Seek your sister if you must, although I fear for her life since no use is made of dead weight in a country where life is measured in water. If after your searchings are done you still wish to be certain of your fathers fate then do so, try and find the city which once you failed to do. Should you even then continue in your determined desire to slay this being whom you have yet to name and whom I wonder on the very nature of then do so with all the might in your young, untested body. If you fail in any part of these tasks which on no more than suspicion you have set yourself you will die. If, by some miracle of luck, you should live beyond the confrontation with your whole family intact, then I wish you luck in returning to your castle when even months before the world was allegedly in a turmoil of war.’

Ciril turned to the jester and scowled deeply but thought better of reaching for his sword. He raised one metal clad finger and waved it most ponderously before the jester's eyes. No words came forth from within his mineral cocoon, and he urged his horse on at a trot.

The jester brought his horse to a halt and watched as the boy rode away. Even from this distance the jester heard the light twinkle of the bell tied to the tassel on his helmet. He smiled a melancholy smile at the sound, and with almost regretful pace turned his horse and rode away from the retreating figure. Ciril would soon learn what the dream meant.