In the next few days, Paks rode along most of the roads near town, and began to explore the small lanes and paths that led to outlying farmsteads. She found nothing; she was not even sure what she was looking for. But at least, she thought, she had a better idea of the surrounding land. It was richer than the land around Three Firs. Most farm folk had an orchard of apples and pears; for grain they grew wheat as well as northern barley and oats. Redroots, onions, and other vegetables grew in every kitchen garden. Paks saw the local hogs, hefty red beasts with yellow eyes, rooting in the roadside woods and hedges. Sleek dun-colored cattle with dark horns grazed the pastures.

Then, returning to Brewersbridge on the west road one afternoon, she got her first clue. Low sun behind her threw her shadow far ahead. In that slanting light, she saw something glint on a treetrunk beside the road. She rode toward it, suddenly alert.

As she came nearer, she saw that it was nothing but the tree itself—instead of dark furrowed bark, pale underbark lay open to the sun from a narrow gash. Paks halted the black horse, her brow furrowed in thought. She'd heard of such signs—the scouts in the Duke's Company had had a system of marks on trees and wayside rocks. But she had no idea what this one meant—if indeed it were anything but an accident.

She turned the black horse off the road, and made a half-circle in the woods around the marked tree. Nothing but a game trail, that ended a few yards from the road. She came out to the road again, and thought about it. Game trail? Why would a game trail stop suddenly? She had seen others that crossed the road. Her neck prickled, and she looked around at the silent trees. Nothing. She thought of returning to the mysterious trail, but decided to ride on as if she had found nothing. As she jogged on toward town, she heard a distant call off to her right—a herdsman, perhaps, or perhaps someone else.

That night was drill night again. Paks drank a quick bowl of soup in the crowded common room, then went upstairs to change. When she came downstairs, the tall young man she'd noticed the first day in the common room called to her.

"Lady Paks! Going to drill? Walk with us, why don't you?" His grin was nearly as wide as his shoulders. Two other men, that Paks remembered but vaguely from the first night's drill smiled at her.

Paks nodded at them. She wondered who they were.

"I'm Mal Argonist," said the one who had called her. "I'm the forester here, since my brother went away. I saw you the day you came in."

"Amisi," said the dark one at his side. "I'm a farmer, just east there—beyond the grove, those grain fields."

"Adgan," said the redhead. "I work for Amisi, right now."