“You will ride in the last supply wagon today, the next to last tomorrow, and so on. I expect a complete tally of everything in the wagon you’re in each night. You may use tally sticks, but you will write the tally neatly for me to read when we stop for the night. If you do this faithfully, you may ride with me again when we come to Harway.”

Camwyn’s heart sank. Day after day in the hot wagons at the dusty end of the procession? And not even free to sit and watch the countryside pass by, but digging about in the wagon to note what was in it? And yet … at least he wasn’t being sent back to Vérella in disgrace.

“Yes, sir king,” he said.

“Go on, then,” Mikeli said as his own squires approached. “I see you’ve finished your breakfast.”

On the way to the wagon, Aris said, “He knows?”

“Yes. Last night. My hand again.”

“Did you tell him all?”

“Yes. But he’s more angry with me than with you. You but did what I told you.”

“Well,” Aris said, “at least we’ll learn something about supplying a company of this size traveling this distance.”

It was not what Camwyn had wanted to learn, but he knew he must make the best of it. Sulking would only make things harder—and on Aris, too, who had not deserved it.

The teamster for the last wagon had already heard he was transporting the prince and his attendant and what they were to do. He handed over a scroll with a set of tally marks, one for each type of cargo, and a sackful of blank tallies. “I won’t have you making a mess back there,” he said. “There’s naught in the bottom compartment, so don’t you be shoving things out of order to get to it.” Camwyn stared at him, wondering if it was some trick, but the man’s gaze was steady. “The load’s balanced as it is; things is labeled with the tally mark.”

Camwyn scrambled into the back of the wagon, Aris right behind him. Far ahead, someone yelled; Camwyn thought it was the command to start. Nothing happened at first.

“If we start at the back, maybe we can see out the front before day’s end,” Aris said.

Camwyn nodded and looked at the first box with its mark. “Dried fruit,” he said. “It doesn’t say what kind. Or how many.” The box’s latch was firmly tied with an intricate knot. “I don’t think we’re supposed to open things, but … they do in the palace inventory.”

“Then we should,” Aris said. “We can compare that knot to the ones on other boxes to get it right.”