All along their journey, the new Lord of the Land was immediately recognized, of course.  What other well-dressed Nubian was there within a hundred miles?  Many openly stared, but all quickly bowed, curtsied or — dropped to one knee as he rode past.  They probably feared that he might be like the late Drakonius, who had often used his powers to kill or injure people for not showing him enough respect.  Or fear.

It was mid-afternoon when they reached Zegra, which was little more than a handful of wooden buildings strewn around a dusty crossroad in the northern lowlands.  “But because this territory has so little land that is suitable for growing crops,” Jareth reflected as they dismounted before the inn, “this area is considered to be the center of a major farming community.  How ironic.”

“Indeed,” Wulfston nodded as he handed his stallion’s reigns to a bowing young stablehand, “but that will soon change.  This area’s stone quarry will be one of many, and iron mines will be opening in the hills.”

Jareth swallowed hard.  “Mining in the hills, my lord?  Are you sure that will be safe, with so many hill bandits about?”

“As I said, many things will be changing,” the Lord Adept stated.  “The hill bandits will be given a choice:  honest work — of which there will be plenty — or leave these lands and the lands of my allies.”

Brellen piped up, “But what if they don’t like either choice, m’lord?”

Wulfston said nothing, but gave both men a solemn look as he turned to enter the inn.

Zel . . .

*      *      *      *      *

After an adequate time of food and rest, the men and their mounts were back on the road again.  The sun was sliding behind the horizon as the journey finally ended in the hills at the north end of the grazing land, where a large flock of sheep was being tended.

A dozen men — shepards (sic RBW shepherds) and farmers — were lighting torches from a campfire as the trio approached.  Their welcome to their new lord was much like that of the passersby on the road:  a kind of wary stiffness that made Jareth feel uneasy, even though he agreed with it.  Two of the farmers tended to the horses while Brellen led the way up the rocky slope.

“The cave is just up there, m’lord,” he said as he took a proffered torch.  “It’s where the werewolf attacked us.”

“Yes, I want to see that.”  Wulfston turned to Jareth.  “There’s no need for you to tax yourself.  You can wait here.”

The uneasiness in Jareth’s mind sharply increased, though he did not know why.  He merely nodded to Wulfston as the Adept started after Brellen, followed by some of the men —

Some of the men.  Jareth was suddenly aware that four of Brellen’s friends were clustered around him, watching him very intently.  A shout of warning for Lord Wulfston leaped into his throat — and died there as the