Though not what I’d choose if I had a hangover or a twitchy stomach.... I wonder if magic doesn’t work inside Valdemar? I think Grandmother said something about that, once. But if that’s true, why is Ancar using mages against them? Unless it is true, but he either doesn’t know it, or has a way to counteract whatever it is.

Kero gave up speculation as a bad job, and turned her mind toward the immediate future. Instead of supplies, the quartermaster carried cash. Since they would be traveling through exclusively friendly territory and harvests had been good this year, they were going to buy every bit of food they needed, for horse and human alike, except for what they needed to get them over the mountains. That was going to keep them light enough to travel at a good speed, and ensure the locals were always happy to see them.

We should meet Daren and the army about halfway between Petras and the Valdemar border, she figured, making rough calculations in her head. And may the gods watch over them. Foot-slogging in winter is as bad as anything I can think of. I bet they’ll be glad we broke the trail for them. Let’s see; about a moon to the Valdemar border, then at least a fortnight to get across the mountains if I figure on bad weather all the way. Then another moon to get to the capital. Not bad. Better than any other Company I ever heard of, including the Sunhawks. Of course, without the cousins to help me with packhorse breeding, we’d be pulling wagons through this muck, and making the same kind of time as anybody else.

And I don’t even want to think about taking wagons over the mountains in the dead of winter.

Hellsbane’s eyes were half-closed; Kero suspected she was dozing. Although the road was churned-up muck, it wasn’t really too bad, since it was too warm for the stuff to freeze before the hooves of the tailmost horse went through it. Later though, it would be bad.

Let her doze, Kero thought, settling. This is the easy part. Anything from here on is gong to be worse.

Pray gods, not as bad as I fear.

Pray gods, the dreams don’t follow me....

Twenty-one

Twenty-one

Snow swirled around Hellsbane’s hocks, as the wind made Kero’s feet ache with cold. Kerowyn huddled as much of herself inside her cloak as she could, and kept her face set in a reasonable approximation of a pleasant expression.