Arathan welcomed the relative silence, although he too felt worn out. He hoped that for the rest of this journey he would be ignored by everyone. Life was easier that way. With attention came expectation, and with expectation there was pressure, and he did not do well with pressure. If he could slide through the rest of his life, unnoticed, unremarkable in any way, he would be content enough.

The sun was directly overhead when they reached an area roughly cleared of bracken, where the ground had been pounded level and two long stone troughs flanked the trail’s resumption at the far end. One contained burlap sacks of feed for the horses and the other was brimming with water. This was the nominal edge of the Lord’s land, and riders had been out the day before to supply the station. A halt was called, and at last Arathan was able to dismount, his legs weak as he stepped away from the gelding. He stood for a moment, watching the others, until a faint tug from his mount’s reins awakened him to the fact that he needed to lead his horses to the troughs.

Draconus had already done so, but the others had all waited – oh, they’re waiting for me.

Sagander’s savage hiss was unnecessary but it stung him like a switch to the back as he hurried forward, both horses thumping after him.

His father had leaned forward to splash water into his face beside Calaras’s muzzle as the warhorse drank, and then he drew the animal over to the second trough. Raskan held his lord’s second mount off to one side, making it clear that Arathan should precede him, but as Arathan made to guide Besra to the water he caught a sudden shake of the head from the gate sergeant.

The boy hesitated. He had ridden Besra all morning; surely it was right to let the beast drink before the warhorse. After a moment, he decided to ignore Raskan, and drew Besra up to the trough. If his father even took note of this, he made no sign.

When Arathan reached down to cup some water, however, the gate sergeant said, ‘No, Arathan. You share with your warhorse and none other. That will have to wait.’

‘I will share with the beast on whose back I have ridden, sergeant.’

Sudden quiet, and Arathan could feel himself wilting, yet he managed to hold Raskan’s hard gaze for a moment longer, before bending down to dip his hand into the cool water.

Standing near the other trough, Draconus spoke. ‘Sergeant Raskan, Hellar is now in your care, until such time as the boy awakens to his responsibilities.’

‘Yes, milord,’ Raskan replied. ‘I would that he still ride the charger this afternoon, for a time.’

‘Very well.’ Draconus led Calaras from the second trough, and beckoned the Bordersword, Feren. ‘I will speak with you,’ he said to her, ‘in private.’

‘Of course, Lord.’