Her arms were sore, her legs and hip aching, and when she slipped down her leather trousers to pee, she saw that the harness had rubbed her right hip raw where the strap was too tight over her hip bone.

Finishing her business, she walked back to camp, wincing as her leathers rubbed the same raw spot. Eiya! Next thing you knew it would start bleeding.

Pil already had a fire going. Crouched beside it, he fed sticks into the flames while Volias tied canvas into a lean-to and spread a ground cloth beneath it.

The senior reeve looked up as Nallo approached. “That was good eyesight, spotting her like that.”

“Who was she?”

“Eh, the usual tale. A squad of bandits hit her village, but fortunately they had a watch out and a palisade to slow the outlaws, so everyone escaped. But the houses took damage, and tools and food and the local temple’s silk banners and silver altar settings were stolen.”

“Desecrating the temple . . .” She shook her head. “That’s the work of savages.”

Pil glanced at them, then turned back to the fire.

“I won’t argue with you,” said Volias. “Here, hold this end while I tighten it.”

“Where was she going? She had a baby.”

“Eihi! You do have good eyesight. Maybe that’s why.”

“Why that woman was alone in the forest?”

“Neh, neh. Why the eagle chose you. It’s as good an explanation as any, and we’ve all wondered. Not every reeve is a decent person. Some were murderers or become murderers, some have a thievish bent, or complain all the time. Envy, jealousy, spite, anger, vanity. Reeves boast of all these fine traits. Yet what manner of heart we have makes no difference in the choosing. Sure it is, if you eat far too much, your eagle can’t carry you, but otherwise our bad behaviors don’t really limit our ability to be reeves, they only limit our ability to be good reeves. So why one person over another? Why choose a reluctant recruit—” He gestured to her and then to Pil. “—over some poor lad who’s dreamed of being a reeve all his young life? Maybe it’s just the cursed eyesight.”

Pil grabbed the iron traveling pot and walked to the stream that snaked through the clearing. The two eagles had tucked their heads under their wings, readying for sleep. Trouble chirped nearby, but Nallo could not see her.

“She’s got her dinner,” said Volias with a smile. He fished in his travel pouch for their leather bottle of rice. When Pil returned with the pot half full of water, Volias dumped in a double handful of rice and over the top crumbled two wafers of traveler’s cake, a pungent blend of spices and dried, mashed nai. Pil set the pot on a tripod over the fire and settled back on his heels to watch it heat.

“What about that woman?” asked Nallo, thinking of her own journey with Avisha and the children.