Ricard Lantorn, back from patrol and never one of the most vocal of the rangers, growled. “Give a lot to see that,” he said. “Give my right hand,” he said.

Other men and women nodded.

Aneas rose early in the morning, his head already working. He was curled next to Black Heron, and he lay a moment, looking up through the spruce branches above his head into the endless vista of the dawn sky, which seemed transparent all the way to the boundaries of the aethereal. He ached; he sat up slowly, so as not to disturb the sleeping warrior, and saw Looks-at-Clouds lying on the other side of the Outwaller. S/he opened hir eyes and looked at Aneas.

“Hello,” s/he said softly.

Aneas grinned. “Good morning, Changeling.”

“Ah,” s/he said. “Just so. Changeling.”

Aneas went to the fire, where Ta-se-ho was already making tea and laying up kindling he had split with a very small axe.

“Going to be a fine day,” Ta-se-ho said. “A little cornmeal?”

Aneas watched Looks-at-Clouds get to hir feet with the odd bonelessness that marked the changeling’s physicality. Then s/he walked stiffly after rising; teetering slightly.

“What happened?” Aeanes asked. He smiled gratefully at Ta-se-ho, who put a horn cup of hot tea with wild honey in his hands. The oldest man in the camp, Ta-se-ho was always the first one up; he did everything well, and he seldom complained. And he made fine tea.

Ta-se-ho smiled back. “It must be difficult, giving so many orders,” he said. His Outwaller tone held just the hint of a suggestion of censure.

“You think I give too many orders?” Aneas asked, stung.

Ta-se-ho shrugged and went back to building up the fire. Cigne, the Occitan woman, came silently through the camp on her worn moccasins and reported the camp secure and the sentries unmolested. She stared at Looks-at-Clouds and then caught her hand and kissed her.

“Now that’s a nice piece of news,” Cigne said. “Oh, and Tessen has a doe,” she added. “Cynthia and her bring it in.” Her Occitan accent was very acute when she was tired or excited, and the woman had been up most of the night.

“Sleep,” Aneas said.

She shook her head. “Non, merci,” she said. “I want to help with the boats.”

“We will move tonight if we have the boats ready,” Aneas said softly.

“All the better,” Cigne said. “Clouds, ma cheri, you walk odd-ly.” Cigne laughed and put her arm through the changeling’s arm.

“It is rather odd, is it not?” Looks-at-Clouds said. “Curious. Fascinating.”

Aneas, greatly daring, kissed the changeling on both cheeks. “It’s good have you back,” he said.

“Yes,” Looks-at-Clouds said. “Yes. Interesting.”

Not the reaction he’d expected.

“Guard!” came a call. A horn blew to the south.

Aneas caught his bow from against the tree under which he’d slept and ran for the horn, but he was too late for the action.