“And that’s precisely why she’s so cynical,” Abi pointed out. “She’s a mercenary from the South. Most of her experience is with the worst of humanity, not the best. She doesn’t know how to recognize altruism when she sees it and probably thinks it’s just a granny’s tale that only children would believe in.” She looked ahead at Jicks’ erect back. “That doesn’t stop her from being kind when she thinks she can afford to be, or honorable, or good company. She’s still the same woman whose stories you laughed at a fortnight ago.”

“I suppose,” Beyrn admitted, reluctantly, after a very long pause. “Do you suppose Bret and Bart think the same way she does?”

“I think Bret and Bart are as dumb as a pair of posts and don’t think much past tomorrow’s breakfast,” Abi replied, in a lowered voice so the two “lads” would have no chance of hearing her. Beyrn smothered a laugh behind his fist, which he hastily shoved in his mouth. “But they’re strong, good fighters, and loyal, and have very good tempers, and on this trip that’s all that matters. So, tell me about dams.”

Beyrn was only too eager to oblige, and it was very clear once he started that dams really were his passion. Well, actually, any construction meant to hold back water. He was extremely knowledgeable about everything from a simple berm meant to divert water to a complex stone dam. She learned quite a lot in that day of riding.

Meanwhile the road they were taking was quite challenging, and Abi was extremely glad that they had hinnies both to ride and to pull their vehicles, because she was fairly certain horses would have been a problem. And near the end of the second day of travel, Jicks stopped them all and pointed up.

“That’s where we’re going,” she said, matter-of-factly. And after a bit of squinting, Abi realized that what she had taken for the exposed, bare stone cliff at the top of one of the hills was actually a village. She gaped.

“Why on earth are they up there?” she asked.

Jicks shrugged. “You have to admit, it’d be hard for anyone to get at them there,” she pointed out.

“But . . . where do they get water?”

“The top’s a big cistern cut right out of the rock. Plenty of rain hereabouts.” Jicks shook her head. “Not how I’d care to live, but nobody’s going to get to them without losing more men than it’d be worth to raid a dirt-poor little village.”

The journey up that hill, which was a mere trail barely wide enough for their wagons, took the rest of the afternoon. And once they got to their goal, the entire village, all dozen families worth, had come out of their houses to greet them.