The moonlight increased. He was about five leagues east of the ruined temple; he knew the imperial road was in the shadowed valley at his feet. He just couldn’t find the green banda. He felt foolish for declining a guide.

There was nothing else for it. He would have to ride all the way back to the post, and ask for a guide. The message had to be delivered.

He considered riding openly along the road. On the face of it, it appeared reckless, but he had to assume that Favour would scoop up any courier or rider on the road, and his main fear was being shot down in the moonlight instead of taken.

But this part of his night, at least, went well. Before midnight, two green-clad men appeared out of the darkness; Wha’hae recognized him.

“How in fuck are you comin’ fra’ the south?” the man asked.

“I don’t know myself,” Kronmir admitted.

But five minutes later, by lantern light and a small mage light, Kronmir was showing Favour where San Batiste was.

“The boys and girls will be tired,” Favour said. “She’ll want to make camp right here; on this ridge, or behind it.” He nodded, his face monstrous in the lantern light. “Want to scout the battlefield or set the camp?” he asked Kronmir.

Kronmir had been tired, but the younger man’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Battlefield, if you don’t mind.”

“Off you go. Take this lot; Wha’hae may smell like a farmyard, but he’s a good scout.”

Kronmir found himself in command of a dozen scouts without a scrap of uniform among them. In fact, except for some weapons, every one of them might pass for a pilgrim or a minor merchant. They all spoke Etruscan except Wha’hae, who barely spoke at all.

They grumbled, but they mounted, and they rode down the last ridge, well strung out, and then they were in a river valley, which Kronmir knew more by sound than by sight. It was very dark; the moon was too new to provide much beyond a pale and confusing glow. Off to the north there was another long ridge; to the south stretched the beginning of the richest agricultural plain in the old world.

The comet was clear in the sky above, burning white, a pointing finger that seemed aimed at the bridge. As the comet rose off the horizon, it provided more light than the moon.

“We’ll want people on that ridge,” Kronmir said. “In case . . .”

Wha’hae grinned in the comet light. “In case it all goes to shite?” he asked softly. “Aye. The ridge; Enri, you take Cranmer and Cromwell and More; ride the ridge end to end, flash me, and then get some sleep.”

The four men grunted and rode off.

“I want to see the bridge,” Kronmir said. “I’m going to guess there’s a ford.”