It was a dark night. On the heights, a lone tower stood, a few torches lighting up the arrow slits.

Jonah leaned forward in the saddle, pointing at the base where a carriage waited.

"That be it, my lord," he said softly. "The princess' carriage. That foul moon worshiper has her!"

Pointing to the top, he scowled. "And on the roof would be his sacrificial alter."