“It would be a disaster if you broke my bones,” Dorrin said, but she actually felt like sparring. “But it would settle my nerves. There’s more light out here.”

“My lord,” one of her escort said. “We have all day to ride, you said.”

“True,” Dorrin said, “but a few buffets won’t hurt. Much.”

Berris called, and the boys poured out of the grange, forming a square; two of them brought wooden training swords. “No head blows,” he said. “And first touch only—I do not wish to injure the Duke.”

As she’d hoped, the exchange of strokes, so familiar over so many years, settled her breakfast and her mind both. She’d always enjoyed single-sword practice most, and she and the Marshal were well matched. Parry, circle, parry … the wooden swords clacked together, faster as she and the Marshal both increased the tempo. The knot between her shoulders loosened as she warmed to the familiar dance. This and this, and that again, and finally her blade slid past the Marshal’s guard, a fraction faster than his, and she managed the perfect training touch—enough to be heard, but not to hurt. In the next instant, before he could stop, his blade thumped her side. They both grounded their blades, and bowed.

“Gird’s grace,” Berris said. “And the High Lord’s favor, be with you and yours.”

“And with you as well,” Dorrin said. She heard down the lane the sound of many hooves and the jingle of tack. “We have timed it well, I think.” She handed the wooden sword to one of the boys, shook her arm and flexed her fingers, then clasped arms with Berris. “Thank you, Marshal, for your good wishes and your aid. Gods grant I can be the duke Verrakai needs.”

“My lord Duke!” came Selfer’s call from beyond the barton wall. Dorrin felt better than she had the half-glass before, and left the barton, grinning. Marshal Berris shooed the boys back inside, then followed.

When he saw her horse in its finery, he raised his eyebrow again, but offered Dorrin his hands. She mounted, and while her escort held the horse, she stretched out one leg and then the other to buckle on her leg armor and fasten her helmet. Then, when her two escorts had mounted, she nodded to Sir Valthan and the column moved on.

For the first half of the morning, they rode along a track that became steadily rougher and less used. Dorrin had never been on this road as a child; she could feel the location of the Verrakai home, but did not know every twist and turn of the road. She had scouts out, forward and flank, as usual; they had nothing to report. As the road worsened, and the last farmland came in view, she turned to Sir Valthan.

“It may be too rough ahead for your supply wagons.”

“The story is, the Verrakai could make the road disappear and reappear. Do you have that power?”