Not until they had put a good distance between themselves and the farmstead did he order a halt. Back on the dusty road, Speros doubled over, bracing his hands on his thighs and catching his breath. “Why … not just … kill them? Surely … farmers wouldn’t be much trouble.”

Tanaros cocked a brow at him. “And have their deaths discovered? We’ve leagues to go before we’re in the clear, and all of the Midlands standing on alert. You were the one served in the volunteer militia, Speros of Haimhault. Do you want one such on our trail?”

“Right.” Speros straightened. “Shank’s mare it is, General.”

They walked in silence for several hours. After the desert, Tanaros reflected, it was almost pleasant. Their waterskins were full, and the fields provided ample hunting for the Gulnagel. The air was balmy and moist, and the stars overhead provided enough light to make out the rutted road. On such a night, one could imagine walking forever. He thought about the farmstead they had passed and smiled to himself. While his motive for having done so was reasoned, there was a luxuriant pleasure in having spared its inhabitants’ lives. Such choices seldom came his way. He wondered what story they would tell in the morning. They’d pass a sleepless night if they knew the truth. Likely the scent of the Gulnagel had set the dogs to barking; better to send Speros alone, next time. He wondered if Fetch, who had flown ahead, might be able to scout a likely candidate for horse-thievery.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Speros remarked. “I never could have imagined this.”

“What’s that?”

“This.” The Midlander waved one hand, indicating the empty road, the quiet fields. “Us, here. Tramping across the country like common beggars. I’d have thought … I don’t know, Lord General.” He shrugged. “I’d have thought there’d be more magic.”

“No.” Tanaros shook his head. “There’s precious little magic in war, Speros.”

“But you’re … one of the Three, sir!” Speros protested. “Tanaros Blacksword, Tanaros …” His voice trailed off.

“Kingslayer,” Tanaros said equably. “Aye. An ordinary man, rendered extraordinary only by the grace of Lord Satoris.” He touched the hilt of his sword. “This blade cannot be broken by mortal means, Speros, but I wield no power but that which lies in reach of it. Are you disappointed?”

“No.” Speros studied his boots as he walked, scuffing the ruts in the road with cracked heels. “No,” he repeated more strongly, lifting his head. “I’m not.” He grinned, the glint of starlight revealing the gap amid his teeth. “It gives me hope. After all, Lord General, I could be you!”