And Matt knew which sort—and which spirit. "That was Max!"
Narlh frowned at him. "Who's Max?"
"Maxwell's Demon! The one I told you about, the Spirit of Entropy! He controls the organization of matter and energy!"
"What spell is this?" Puck said with disapproval.
"It's not a spell, it's science! Uh, wait a minute..." Matt thrust the issue behind him with an act of will. "Max channeled more energy into the ghost, then took off about his business!"
"Hold on!" Narlh frowned. "If he's such a buddy of yours, why'd he take off so fast?"
"Because he couldn't stay! I'm not his controller now, anymore—Sir Guy is!"
"But then," Yverne said, eyes round, "if the demon appeared..."
"Can Sir Guy be far behind?" Matt finished. "And if the ghost went to get Max, then he must know where Sir Guy is!" He spun to the ghost. "And that's what you've been trying to tell us!"
The ghost nodded eagerly, face glowing. "Yet this ghost has been so earnest to tell us that," Fadecourt said, "even to the point of suffering pain. Is there not, then, some urgency in his message?"
"Good point! Ghost! Is Sir Guy in trouble?"
The ghost nodded eagerly, positively beaming.
"Then lead on!" Matt kicked dirt over the coals, then turned to follow the ghost. "To Sir Guy!"
The ghost took off, drifting away in front of them, looking back to make sure they were following.
Matt's conscience nudged him. "Uh, look, folks—this knight is a friend of mine, but he's no business of yours. And if he's in trouble he can't handle, it's probably pretty bad. I really can't ask you to put your heads in the communal noose with me—"
"You insult me!" Fadecourt cried, offended. "Could I turn away from an ally in danger, even though I've never met him?"
"And the danger would be mine, without the company of you gentlemen," Yverne said.
"I'll take my chances," Narlh growled, "since you improve them."
That left only one—and he was leaning against a pebble, grinning from ear to ear. "Wizard—do you ask a favor?"
"All right, all right! I'm asking a favor! I'll pay you back when I get the chance!"
"Then ho! For a knight of trouble!" Puck disappeared, but Matt's wallet bulged ominously, and Puck's muffled voice cried, "En avant!"
" 'Tis sad to speak poorly of one so eager to aid," Fadecourt said, "but yon ghost is not the easiest of guides to follow."
"He's got to be around here somewhere." Matt frowned, scanning the way ahead from left to right. "Narlh—I don't suppose...that grandfather of a nose you have there..."
"Oh, I'm great at tracking, all right. But it has to leave a smell, Wizard."
"And ghosts don't usually have much in the way of body odor." Matt sighed. "I know he's around here someplace."
"How could he be so bright at breakfast and have faded so dimly by midmorning?" Yverne asked
"It was Max," Matt explained "He shifted extra energy into the ghost—you noticed how the sunlight seemed a little dimmer? But when Max left, that extra charge wore off pretty quickly—and Max wasn't there to recharge him."
"Recharge! Charge! Energy!" Narlh muttered. "Will you quit using wizard talk and just tell us what happened?"
Matt sighed, searching for the simple explanation. "The ghost got tired. That's all it boils down to."
Fadecourt nodded. "He has been growing dimmer and dimmer this hour past, till he was but a shimmer before us."
"And it's not too easy, following an outline." Matt turned to his friendly nemesis. "Puck, I don't suppose you could..."
"Most surely! Since you ask." Puck pointed south by south-east. "Yon."
Matt looked, but saw nothing. "If you say so. But how are the rest of us supposed to see something to follow?"
"Dost you ask?"
Matt sighed. "Yes, I'm asking! Would you kindly do me the favor, Puck, of finding a way for the ghost to lead us?"
"Why, surely, Wizard! 'Tis simplicity itself!" Puck called out, "Ghost! Do not seek to show us your whole body! Put all your strength into one part only, and show us that!"
A very long few seconds ticked by. Matt was just about to charge Puck with failure, when the ghost's head glowed into sight. Matt stared, swallowing his words.
" 'Tis not so bright," Fadecourt rumbled, "but we can follow. Come, milady, milord."
"Yes." Matt nodded. "Follow the guiding light."
But that wasn't so easy. The charge Max had lent ran down even further.
By noon, there wasn't even enough left to keep a full head going. They found this out the hard way, when the ghost vanished.
Matt called a halt. "Ghost! We've lost you! We'd better stay where we are until you can come back for us."
They waited. Nothing happened.
"Do you wish me to say where he is?" Puck asked.
"Not if it counts as a favor," Matt grunted. "How many do I owe you so far?"
"Three favors," Puck noted.
"And working on number four?" Matt shook his head. "I'm not that desperate yet."
"How if we do not find him?" Fadecourt asked.
Matt shrugged. "We keep on going the way we're heading, I guess. So far, we seem to have been going south, and just a little east. If we keep that up..."
A hand appeared before them, palely glowing, but beckoning
"He heard us!" Matt grinned. "Thanks, kindly ghost! Let's follow, folks."
They trudged off again. The hand disappeared, and for a minute a toothy grin flashed at them.
"Why does that seem familiar, somehow?" Matt wondered. "Glad he's feeling good about it, anyway."
Over hill, over dale they went—following whatever sort of road or trackway would take them south by southeast. The ghost managed to stretch out his ectoplasm by switching from one part of his body to another; at one point, they were following a pair of shoes, striding forward at a goodly clip. Then they came out into a patch of bright sunlight, and the shoes faded.
"Where'd he go?" Matt came to a halt, looking about him.
"Yon!" Fadecourt pointed.
Matt looked, and saw a trail of footprints appearing in the dust of the road. They took up the chase again.
By the time sunset was approaching, they were all weary and dragging, especially Narlh—but they kept on doggedly following what little of the ghost there was. At the moment, they were down to a beckoning finger that appeared every hundred yards or so.
"The positive side," Matt wheezed, "is that as twilight comes on, he gets brighter."
"The bad side," Narlh puffed, "is that there isn't very much of him to brighten."
"This whole journey must have been painful for him," Fadecourt noted.
Matt nodded. "The advantage of showing less and less of his body. Must be a brave ghost."
"A quality one does not oft associate with specters," Fadecourt noted.
Puck appeared on Matt's shoulder, giving Fadecourt a keen look, but apparently deciding there was no insult intended.
Matt finally dragged to a halt. "I'm sorry, ghost," he called out, "but I..."
A finger flashed into sight, waving upright; a pair of pursed lips appeared behind it.
Matt lowered his voice to a whisper. "I just can't go any farther. Besides, darkness is coming on, and we need to pitch camp."
The shushing lips turned back into a hand, beckoning frantically, the rest of the arm coming into view behind it. The ghost's whole body appeared in outline again, urgency in every curve.
"There is need to persevere," Fadecourt sighed. "Come, Lord Matthew. He would not urge us on if our goal were not close."
Matt had to admit the cyclops was right—and, truth to tell, they'd only come about twelve miles; they'd lost a lot of time trying to follow an almost-invisible guide. "All right." He sighed. "Lead on."
The shushing had made them all cautious, though; they stayed quiet, except for whispered, necessary comments. They went as silently as possible down a long hill, then through a narrow gorge, the walls of which towered high on either side. Matt was very nervous through the whole length of it, constantly trying to watch for signs of ambush—but apparently Gordogrosso wasn't expecting them here. Or maybe he had other, more urgent matters he had to louse up.