“Let’s go look at the Patriarch’s camp,” Kronmir said.

“Fuck, I knew you’d say that,” Wha’hae muttered. “You an’ Favour are kin, I reckon?”

They rode east into the night. Wha’hae sent men away; a messenger to Ser Alison, half a hand to move parallel to them in the darkness.

Twice they stopped to get their bearings, but the light of the comet and the moon served to guide them, and before the moon set, they could see watch fires and campfires.

“Fewkin’ long way to march to get to San Batiste,” Wha’hae said. “We may not fight at all tomorrow.” Then he looked back at the wooded ridge on which the fire had long since been extinguished. “And not so far, neither,” he admitted.

Kronmir was trying to get an idea of the terrain in the darkness when he saw a movement off to the south.

“Run,” he said.

Wha’hae’s head snapped around, and he, too, saw the glint of comet light on armour.

He gave an owl cry, and he was away, galloping furiously on his small horse into the darkness. His two men turned with him, and Kronmir turned his horse and realized, his heart sinking, that they were on fresh horses and he was not.

His horse was done; had come eight leagues or more without rest.

Kronmir went for the woods to the north.

He looked back, and saw that all of the enemy light horse were following him. He was glad for Wha’hae, but very sorry for himself.

An amateur’s error. I am a fool, and I will die very hard.

He sighed.

He rode on, but already his poor mare was flagging, and he wished he was on the horse Giselle had given him. Gilchrist’s spare horse was a third-class nag with no heart, and Kronmir knew he was doomed.

He considered suicide.

It wasn’t in him. It was too bad, really; what would follow when they caught him would be horrible. Unless he could hide his identity, which was possible, but his sword was fine and he had his knight’s belt on his hips. He undid the latch on the buckle and dropped it in the brush through which his tired horse was cantering heavily.

He began to rid himself of everything he could think of, but they were closing in on him, only a few dozen yards away, and the brilliant moonlight and comet light were too much; he saw a rider pull up when he dropped his purse, and he cursed.

He saw another way.

He wheeled his horse to face them.

She fell.