The next morning dawned clear after the nights heavy rains. True to the watchman's prediction the body was gone when Amal and Emmaline mounted their horses and rode out of the southern gate into the brilliant sunshine of the early morning. Neither of the pair were particularly early risers, but the possibility that some of Vandershute's ill fated posse might be searching for them didn't encourage them to tarry. Given the events of the previous night they had debated attempting to rouse the carpet, but had agreed that the situation wasn't that dire yet. They were also uncertain on what to do with the strange box they had inherited from the dead thief. Truthfully, Emmaline felt it might have been better just to toss it in the street, but Amal had pointed out that having something always put you in a better bargaining position than not having it. 

The road was a sluice of mud and progress was slow. Emmaline regretted not attempting to find a boat, never having been much of a fan or horses. There were enough travellers on the road to churn the mud to a slippery muck and they were frequently forced to press their horses close to the trees to maintain any kind of a pace. She was just about to suggest they halt and eat some lunch when Amal reigned his horse in beside her. She envied him his seat, he might be a thief from the streets but he obviously had the blood of desert horsemen somewhere in his background.

"I think there are riders coming up behind us," he said in Arabyian. Emmaline instinctively glanced over her shoulder before Amal could grab her to prevent it. There was a shout from behind her as several hundred yards back she saw horsemen forcing thier steeds into muddy gallops. Sunlight glittered of blades and the tips of arrows.

"Sorry," Emmaline blushed and glanced back to the road ahead an idea occurring to her.

"Follow me!" she called and pushed her horse into a clumsy charge that carried them around the curve. The stretch of road beyond was deserted. Whispering quietly to herself she lifted her hand and the mud infront of them began to congeal and dry as she wrung the water from it with her spell. Their steeds stepped up onto the dry road and their speed increased dramatically. Behind them water seemed to return to the road, restoring the quagmire a few feet behind them. Emmaline grinned as their pursuers rounded the corner to find their prey several hundred meters ahead with no apparent explanation.

"We can out run them easily this way," Amal snickered. Emmaline nodded, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. 

"We could," she admitted, "but I have a better idea."

It must have been an extremely frustrating hour for their pursuers. They seemed to gain on their prey until they were almost in bow range, and then the pair would round a corner, and suddenly be several hundred yards ahead, their horses apparently not even tired from the leisurely pace. Somehow their horses didn't appeared to be coated in mud either, nor were they gasping for air having been driven through the mud.  Emmaline was enjoying herself immensely.