She felt the danger north and east, not south of east; if Kieri had gone to meet it, he might be there. “I’ll go to Harway, then. On our side of the border, I’ll find troops.”

“Gwenno, have you eaten yet?”

“No, my lord, but I can eat in the saddle—”

“There will be time while your squad assembles, packs supplies. It won’t be a long delay, Arian, but I judge a necessary one.”

Arian was on fire to go at once, but in Dorrin she recognized someone with far more experience in war—if this was war. “I will wait,” she said.

“Good,” Dorrin said. “Then I won’t have to knock you down.” Her grin was friendly but firm. “Gwenno, tell your squad to get ready to leave but make sure they all eat first. You do the same. I’ll be writing my message to King Mikeli.”

By the time the group left, the snow had eased off, though the sky promised more to come. Arian worried a little about Dorrin, left with house staff and children, but the Duke said another squire would be arriving with his squad that day.

“The Duke worked on the road north to Harway,” Gwenno said. “It’s much better than it was.”

“That may be,” Arian said, “but snow hides any—” Her horse lurched as one hoof found a hole beneath the snow. “—problems.” She looked over the group: Gwenno, one of the famous Marrakai family she’d heard of. Friends of Kieri’s. Five soldiers who’d been in Dorrin’s cohort when she was Kieri’s captain. Ten who were born and bred here, in Verrakai lands. The five former Phelani, though wearing Verrakai blue livery, were easy to pick out even though Arian had never seen mercenaries before. They looked harder than the others.

Near dark they stopped in a shelter Dorrin had ordered built: larger than the rangers’ huts but on the same plan. Before they had even finished supper, they heard a horseman approaching; the rider hailed the camp. “Where’s the Duke?” he asked. “I have a message—”

“If it’s trouble with the Pargunese, she knows it,” Gwenno said. “She’s gathering her troops.”

Again that night the taig woke Arian. She left the shelter to lay her hands on one of the trees; the taig-sense surged through her. More fire, more anger, to the northeast; the tree she touched, as part of a forest that ran from there east into Lyonya with few breaks, gave her much more information than the old apple back at Dorrin’s garden. The taig recognized her as a ranger and called her to help. She felt cautiously through its fabric for the Lady—surely she would be active—but found no taste of her and little of elves. Kieri she did find, as a steadying influence, but he was too far away, and too immersed in the taig, for her to know exactly what he was doing.

By the next evening, they were near enough Harway to push on, arriving after dark.