“Quiet!” At the head of their ragged column, Carfax turned to glare at his men. They drew rein and fell into muttering silence. “Right,” he said. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better. If you think this is bad, wait until we get into the Delta. In the meantime, save your breath and keep your flapping jaws shut.”

“Who’s going to hear us out here, lieutenant?” Mantuas gestured, indicating the broad expanse of sedge grass, the open sky. “The local frog-hunters? There’s not a living soul in shouting distance! Vedasian patrols wouldn’t bother getting their gear muddy this close to the stinking Verdine. Look around you, there’s …” He stopped, staring.

To the west, three specks in the sky.

“Ravens,” someone breathed.

“Hey!” Turin dragged the Lady Cerelinde’s cloak from his saddlebag, waving it in the air. “The Dreamspinner must have sent them to find us, lieutenant. Mayhap they carry a message. Here!” he shouted, waving the white cloak. Gilt embroidery and tiny rubies flashed in the sun. “We’re over here!”

High above, a half league to the west, the ravens paused, circling.

“Over here!” Turin shouted. “Here!”

“Idiot!” Carfax jammed his heels into his mount’s sides, plowing through the sedge grass to snatch the cloak away. “They’re not looking for us.”

“Then what” Turin shoved his fist against his teeth. “Ah, no!”

A faint streak, tipped with a spark of sunlit steel; one, two, three. Arrows, shot into the sky, arcing impossibly high, impossibly accurate. A burst of feathers, small bundles of darkness plummeting; one, two, three.

“Haomane’s Allies.” Mantuas swallowed. “You think they found the ship, lieutenant? Are they after us?”

“They couldn’t have found the damned ship.” It had been near dusk on the second day at sea when Carfax had dispatched the captain of the Ilona’s Gull, planting a dagger in the side of his throat. An ignoble death, but a swift one. His men had seen to the crew, and together, under cover of darkness, they’d gotten the ship headed north, making landfall the next day at the fetid, uninhabited mouth of the Verdine. “Why would they look there?”

Turin retrieved the Ellyl cloak and folded it away, not meeting his eyes. “We were seen crossing the Traders’ Road, lieutenant.”

“We were supposed to be seen. Heading north, overland to Pelmar.” Carfax passed a hand over his face, found it oily with sweat. If he looked anything like his men, he looked a mess, the walnut dye darkening his skin to a Pelmaran hue streaking in the humid heat. That had been the last effort of their pretense, crossing the old overland trade route that ran between Seahold and Vedasia. Since then, they’d seen no other travelers and had let their guises fail. “We’ve made good time. They couldn’t have followed that quickly.”

“Well, someone did.”