They came down the San Colombo on the second day like a torrent from the mountains, and Kronmir was delighted in a dour way when Daniel Favour, acting as commander of the green banda, invited the Thrakian to join him in leading the push into the forests of the Mitlan highlands. Kronmir was unemployed until he could find Brown; he’d already sent a message summoning Lucca, who had to be healed enough to function. Or so Kronmir had to hope.

The green banda moved fast, even by Kronmir’s professional standards, and every man and woman of the company’s scout had a bag of flour and a slab of bacon at their saddlebows.

They reached the endless waves of ridges that Kronmir remembered so well from his first visit by nonnes. The land was still; birds sang, but no large animals moved, and no church bells sounded.

“This land is still in Darkness,” Kronmir said.

Favour changed horses. “We need to go further,” he said. “Nightfall in seven hours, give or take.”

The whole banda split into groups of five; hands, the company scouts called them. Two hands rode south, toward the sea.

“Genua is at war with Venike,” Favour said.

“Agreed.” Kronmir nodded. “Sooner or later they will take the field against us, without a single Odine being involved.” He was nonetheless impressed to see that a junior officer in the company could make a political decision. The scouts would watch the Genuans; and capture a few if it came to that. Or kill them.

“What do I do?” Favour asked him.

He shrugged. “It is really Ser Alison’s decision. But we watch everyone, Daniel. I have spies in taverns in Arles. I have spies in Venike. We should be watching Genua.”

The rest of the banda rode north and east, spreading out as they went. An hour after they crested the first ridge, Kronmir and Favour were almost alone; a tall Hillman named Gilchrist moved with them carrying a heavy oliphant, or ivory horn, in his hand. From time to time, horn calls echoed along the ridges.

Kronmir enjoyed the ride, and the speed, and being away from the duchess. He had no role to play, except that he’d covered the terrain before, and twice he was able to guide them.

At midafternoon, a low horn called three times, paused, and called again.

Favour smiled. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “Long Paw has found the Venikans.”

Kronmir was startled at how young they all were; Favour was twenty-one, if even that old. But two years of uninterrupted war had made them masters, and they covered the terrain without breaking a skyline or crossing a valley except by stealth.

They rode along the highest ridge through oak trees so old that there was no undergrowth, and emerged into a clearing with the ruins of an ancient temple amid a grove of apple trees.