She reached out to the taig and felt its calm unconcern. She felt into the tree she hid behind, and received the same feeling, flavored with its own pick-oak resonances. Like all oaks, it had absolute certainty in its own rightness, stiff to its twigs. Through it, she felt up and down and sideways, to the root hairs that almost met the root hairs of the other trees nearby, to the twigs that touched now and then in the wind.

So those ahead had set sentries … that suggested something more dangerous than foresters cutting firewood. There—there—and there. A voice called, loud enough to break her concentration on the taig. Then a clanging: someone banging on a pot with a spoon, probably. Whoever it was feared no listening ears.

Arian went back for her horse. Mounting, she rode toward the camp sounds and smells, and when a horse somewhere ahead whickered, she let her own mount answer. Voices now louder … she rode on, following the obvious trail.

“Halt!” came a voice, and two blue-clad riders blocked her way. One was a young woman whose blue tabard had a knot of red and green on her heart-shoulder; the other was an older man who looked like a seasoned soldier. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“I’m from Lyonya,” Arian said. “I am seeking Duke Verrakai. Are you Verrakaien militia?”

“Are you from the king?” the young woman asked.

“No,” Arian said. “But I have news, told me by forest rangers, I believe the duke will want to hear.”

“You have not yet given your name,” the young woman said.

“Nor have you answered my question,” Arian said. “We know in Lyonya that Verrakaien were attainted and only the new duke’s militia is legitimate. Are you Verrakaien militia, or fugitives?”

The man laughed. “You’re bold to ask that question, coming alone as you are … but in fact we are the Duke Verrakai’s militia. I served with her when she was your king’s captain.”

“And you might have known by my colors,” the young woman said, flushing a little. “I’m a Marrakai, now squire to the duke.”

Arian bowed slightly. “I’m Arian, a former forest ranger myself, which is why they trusted me with their message. I have no surname; we half-elves do not use them. And my pardon, squire; I do not know Tsaian colors.”

“Be welcome in our camp, then,” the young woman said. “We return to Verrakai House tomorrow; we can guide you.”

“That suits me well,” Arian said. “I have been in Tsaia before, but only in the south, as far as Brewersbridge twice and once to Thorngrove.”

At the camp, Arian found men and women in Verrakai blue, most older than the squire. The veteran she’d first seen was their sergeant, and five of the troops were veterans of Phelan’s Company. The others were native Verrakaien.

“Fifteen of us stayed behind when the rest of the duke’s cohort went back to the north,” the sergeant said. “We’d all been helping her get the locals trained and organized, so now she’s split us up.” He leaned closer. “It’s partly to give these youngsters command experience, you know. This ’un is a Marrakai daughter; she’ll make a decent captain someday. Still young, o’course. Younger than you.”