The captain of the troop, a short, squat man of middle years named Bered, now cleared his throat, adding a dry cough before saying, ‘It is best we remain together, Lord. These are hostile lands, and for all your courage you cannot claim familiarity with it. We accepted the pace, true, but with misgivings. Now we must walk our beasts and then rest. This air is foul and will only get worse.’

‘She is my betrothed.’

‘And she is our companion. A friend to each and every one of us here. But we have great faith in her abilities, Lord Tulas. Still, should she have fallen, then no haste on our part will avail what remains of her. We will trail her, but with the expectation that the trail shall find no grisly end. In the meantime, it is as Lady Ankhadu has said: we must make for the shore.’

‘Besides,’ Sharenas added, ‘would you come this far only to deny yourself sight of the Vitr? Do you not wish to understand the purpose of Faror Hend’s duty in this land? Should you not see for yourself her avowed enemy? I will do no less, if only to honour her memory.’

He flinched at that last statement, but voiced no protest.

Tulas had tasted death’s kiss before. He could shoulder any new loss. She saw him find his resolve, like a man throwing on a cape of thorns, and saw too the hint of satisfaction, if not pleasure, in its bite. ‘Truly spoken, Sharenas Ankhadu. I am pleased that you are here.’ His lifeless gaze moved on to Bered and the other Wardens. ‘You as well. I see the strain in each of you: that you might have lost a friend. It is clear that my betrothed has found a worthy world in which to live. In all that you have already done, you do her honour.’

Bered’s reply was gruff. ‘And we expect to jest without repent in her company, Lord, in a few days.’

Tulas drew his horse to one side. ‘Will you take the lead now, captain, and read this faint trail?’

‘Thank you, Lord.’

Sharenas and Tulas waited for the others to set out, and then fell in side by side into their wake.

‘You must think me a fool,’ he muttered.

‘In matters of love—’

‘Spare all of that, Sharenas. You read well my fragile verve. This betrothal is my reward, and Faror Hend’s penance. Love does not rush between us. But I will give ease to her as best I can. My expectations are few and all chains I will cast away long before we join hands. She is welcome to take what lovers please her, and indeed to live out her days among the ranks of the Wardens. I begrudge her no decision.’

‘Yet you would give your life in her defence.’

He shot her a look. ‘Of course. She is my betrothed.’

‘Dear me,’ she replied, low, ‘you really are a fool, Tulas.’