A few furlongs along the scrub-lined dirt trail (which steady commerce over the past few days had pounded into the soil), the human track was bisected by a game trail that led off through the weather-beaten bushes and tired, stunted oaks. That “back way” was good for a goat or a mountain-deer, but not terribly attractive to humans afoot or humans with horses, which made it unlikely that they’d run into any more delays getting back to camp.

In fact, the back way was so quiet there was still wild-life living along it. Birds flew out of the trees as they passed, and a covey of quail watched from beneath the shelter of a thorn-bush. “Gods,” Shallan said, thumping her horse again as he shied at a rabbit bolting across their path. “Gods. Green recruits. Thanks be to Saint Keshal that Lerryn won’t put green ‘uns in the field.”

“Could be worse,” Tre observed. “Could be levied troops from Menmellith and Rethwellan out here.”

Shallan groaned, but Kero shook her head. “Menmellith, maybe, but not Rethwellan. Rethwellan won’t even officially be our hire. Officially, they’ve ‘loaned’ the Council the cash to pay for us. Got that from a letter.” She didn’t say from whom. Everyone in the Skybolts knew about her friendship with Daren—and knew equally well that she wouldn’t trade on it. But she could, and would, pass along any information he happened to drop, whether by accident or design.

“Oh?” Shallan and the other two looked studiously indifferent, which told Kero they hadn’t heard this particular tidbit of gossip. “Why’s that?”

“Simple enough. We all know that Karse is funding these ‘bandits’—assuming they aren’t already part of the Karsite army. But outside of these Borders?” Kero shrugged. “Anyway, that’s why it’s us, and why Rethwellan’s out of it. We’re not official units of any army. Whatever we do, it can’t cause a diplomatic incident. And if we happen to get carried away, and it turns out that the subsequent bodies were part of the Karsite army, well, Karse has violated the Code so many times that the Guild not only wouldn’t fine the offenders, they might even be rewarded. Unofficially, of course.”

“Of course,” Tre agreed brightly. Kero looked back over her shoulder. The identical smiles on both twins’ faces could only be described as “bloodthirsty.”

Or maybe it was just greed. It wasn’t too often that a bonded Company had free rein to loot, but that’s exactly what the Menmellith Council—their putative employers—had given them. Not that Kero blamed them. Probably half of what was in the possession of the “bandits” had belonged to folk hereabouts first. If anybody got it, the locals would rather it was friends than enemies.