Now that the army had moved ahead of the caravan the danger was gone. Soon the brothel would be too far behind for nobles to visit it at night. She had only to arrange a distraction for her guards and slip away, and with no customer in her bed all night her absence probably wouldn’t be noticed until morning.

“Jade.”

Emerahl looked up. Rozea was walking toward her, her high boots caked with mud. The woman was obviously relishing this travelling lifestyle and always spent each morning stomping around the camp issuing orders.

“Yes?” Emerahl replied.

“How are you feeling?”

Emerahl shrugged. “Well enough.”

“Come along, then.”

Rozea led her to the lead tarn and ushered her inside. A servant handed them goblets of warmed spicewater. Emerahl drank hers quickly, intending to lie down and sleep as soon as she was finished. She was in no mood for conversation with Rozea today, and if she had the chance to escape tonight she wanted to be as rested and alert as possible.

“You’re quiet this morning,” Rozea noted. “Too early for you?”

Emerahl nodded.

“We have to start early if we’re going to catch up with the army tonight.”

“Do you think we will?”

Rozea pursed her lips. “Perhaps. If not, at least we’ll keep ahead of Kremo’s caravan.”

Kremo was one of Rozea’s competitors. The man’s caravan was larger and he catered to all but the poorer soldiers, who could only afford the lone, sick-looking whores that trailed the army like carrion insects.

“I’d better get some sleep, then,” Emerahl said.

Rozea nodded. Emerahl lay down on the bench seat and fell asleep straightaway, waking only briefly when the tarn jerked into motion. When she woke next, the tarn had stopped. She looked up and discovered Rozea was gone.

Closing her eyes, she started to drift into sleep again. Shouting male voices jolted her awake. She opened her eyes, cursing the noisy guards.

Screams erupted somewhere beyond the tarn.

Emerahl scrambled upright and yanked the door flap of the tarn-cover open. Trees crowded the road. Men she did not recognize were rushing through them toward the caravan. Emerahl heard Rozea somewhere in front of her tarn, bellowing orders to the guards, who were already moving to meet the attackers.

They were wearing the armor and brandishing the swords and spears of Toren soldiers, Emerahl realized. She stared hard at one of them. His emotions were a mix of greed, lust and a gleeful exultation at being free of endless orders and restrictions.

Deserters, Emerahl guessed. Turned thief and outlaw most likely.

She looked around, heart racing. There didn’t appear to be many attackers, but more could be hiding in the trees. She paused as she noticed the fallen tree lying in front of Rozea’s tarn. The trunk had been hacked at; this was no natural obstruction.