“Caerith bastard,” Erchel muttered as we heaved the crossbowman’s corpse into the midst of the elm. As was often his way, our confrontation now appeared to have been completely forgotten. Reflecting on his eventual fate all these years later I am forced to the conclusion that Erchel, hideous and dreadful soul that he was, possessed a singular skill that has always eluded me: the ability to forgo a grudge.

“They’re said to worship trees and rocks,” he went on, careful to keep his voice low. “Perform heathen rights in the moonlight and such to bring them to life. My kin would never run with one of his kind. Don’t know what Deckin’s thinking.”

“Mayhap you should ask him,” I suggested. “Or I can ask him for you, if you like.”

This blandly spoken offer had the intended effect of keeping Erchel’s mouth closed for much of the remainder of our journey. However, as we progressed into the closer confines of the deep forest, drawing nearer to camp, his tongue invariably found another reason to wag.

“What did it say?” he asked, once again keeping his voice quiet for Raith and the others weren’t far off. “The scroll?”

“How should I know?” I replied, shifting the uncomfortable weight of the loot-filled sack on my shoulder. The bodies had all been stripped clean before I could join in the scavenging, but the cart had yielded half a meal sack, some carrots and, most prized of all, a pair of well-made boots which would fit me near perfectly with a few minor alterations.

“Deckin talks to you. So does Lorine.” Erchel’s elbow nudged me in demanding insistence. “What could it say that would make him risk so much just to read it?”

I thought of the spasm of shock I had seen on Lorine’s face as she read the scroll, as well as her contradictory expression as she stood and watched Deckin coax deductions from me. The daft old bastard turned his coat, she had said. My years in this band had given me a keen nose for a shift in the varied winds that guided our path, Deckin always being the principal agent. Never fond of sharing his thoughts, he would issue commands that seemed odd or nonsensical only for their true intent to stand revealed later. So far, his guarded leadership had always led us to profit and clear of the duke’s soldiers and sheriffs. The duke…