“Seven leagues. A day.” Fie squinted at the angle of the sun, the lines of the mountains. “Due east, so could be close to Trikovoi. Could also be another trap.”

“We would know if the Vultures passed us, right?” Jasimir rubbed his chin. “Do you suppose the Oleander Gentry have gotten clever?”

“Maybe.” A curl of unease twined in her gut. If she didn’t answer, the Covenant would stack every one of the plague-dead on her head alone.

If she did … Tatterhelm could be waiting.

“Let’s keep going,” Jasimir said. “Either we reach the beacon first and can look for signs of a trap, or we reach Trikovoi first and I’ll ask Aunt Draga to loan us an escort.”

“‘Us’?”

“My caste hasn’t caught the plague since Ambra,” he said firmly. “I’ll just wash up after to be safe. Didn’t I tell you? A leader should be skilled as any of their followers.”

“Aye. And then you said you were too good to live as a Crow.”

Jasimir cringed. “Right. Well. Let’s say my perspective has shifted.”

Fie allowed herself a strained laugh as they started walking, but her heart wouldn’t settle. Always watch the crowd. She hooked a finger around a Vulture tooth on her string, then reached for Tavin’s sword.

His trail rolled south, on and on down the flatway, just as it ought. Fie let out a breath.

Then the trail stopped. She stopped as well.

“What’s wrong?”

“The Vultures have come north,” Fie answered, brow furrowed. Tavin’s glamour had to have burned out days ago, yet only now did they move north. “Can you get the map?” Jasimir freed it from her pack, then unfurled it on the thin roadside grass. Spring had ended dry and hot in the Marovar, turning green shoots yellow even before the solstice.

Fie knelt and tried to reckon Tavin’s trail against the line of the flatway burnt into the goat-hide. One fingertip traced the road until just north of Gerbanyar. That yielded no good answers. “They’re riding toward the crossroads.”

Jasimir tapped the map. “They could be aiming for the flatway west. That’s the fastest route back to the capital.” He grimaced. “Or they could be coming after us.”

She pinched at Pa’s tooth. His spark hadn’t gone out. He lived yet, but who else? She knew Tatterhelm had taken one of her own on the bridge; she knew he’d shot down Hangdog the moment he could. The skinwitch had ten hostages when he’d left Cheparok. How many had he bothered to keep alive?

Fretting wouldn’t keep her oaths, though.

“We’re a day from Trikovoi. They’re too far to catch up before we make it.” Jasimir leaned back on his heels. “Let’s follow the beacons until they split from the road and see how close the Vultures are by then.”