“There’s a branch off, up a sort of gully. We only went a little way up it; as far as we went, the tracks stayed in it.”

“No reason for that but staying hidden,” Arcolin said. “Thanks, Donag.” Rain pattered again on the tent. “Get some rest now.” He turned to Burek. “If you’ll update the map, I’ll do the perimeter round. Then we should both rest; it may be a very long night.”

Soft curtains of rain blew across the camp as Arcolin made his way to the first sentry’s post. This was no brief shower; it was going to rain for the rest of the day or longer. Though it was only early afternoon, the woods were no more than a dark blur in the distance.

“Think they’ll attack, Captain?”

“Not immediately. When they think rain and darkness have made us careless, probably.”

“I won’t be careless, sir.”

“I know, Seli.” Arcolin grinned at him, and went on to the next post. As he passed the enclosure for the horses and mules, he checked on Burek’s horse; the surgeon was there, feeling around the wound.

“As I hoped,” the surgeon said. “He’s fine—walking won’t hurt him, but he shouldn’t be ridden or do anything fast. I put more numbweed on it; he’ll rest better.”

“I’ll tell Burek,” Arcolin said.

“He’s been here,” the surgeon said. “I just sent him back. First horse, is it?”

“Yes,” Arcolin said, remembering his own first horse. He had cried when Arrow broke a leg in a ditch trap, hurt more by that than by his own broken arm. No horse since had been the same. “The first one’s always the best.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“We’re inviting attack,” Arcolin said to Burek when they met again in his tent. “With brigands, you can hardly ever bring them to pitched battle. They live by ambush and trickery; they are not crazy enough to come out of their hiding places at a challenge, even if they have a force large enough.”

“But we don’t know how many there are,” Burek said. “What if they have superior force?”

“Supply,” Arcolin said. When Burek looked confused, he explained. “Brigands must eat, the same as a regular army. They get their food by stealing it, or by scaring peasants into giving it to them. Where peasants are well fed, brigands are few. Too many for the comfort of travelers on the road, but too few to worry us if we’re alert. These brigands have made deals with the villages, that much is clear. But the villages still have food; none of the people look pinched, any more than those we passed coming into Cortes Vonja on the trade road. How many extra men—hungry men—can a village supply?”

“If they’re a clandestine invasion, though, could not their commander be importing food for them?”

“That’s possible for a few, much harder for many. We moved multiple companies around Aarenis, that last year against Siniava. We used every wagon, every road … we left evidence everywhere of the size of our force. It’s true we’ve been here only briefly, but I see nothing like the mess just a few hundred men leave when they inhabit a countryside.” He took another swallow of watered ale. “The cohort will rest until dark; so must we. If they come, it will be after dark, first a probe to see if we’re alert, and then, if we’re lucky, an attack.”