Winter glanced at the sun, which was already well past the overhead and sinking fast toward the horizon. The days were getting rapidly shorter as the year slipped away, something that still surprised her after three years in more equatorial Khandar.

“We’re not going to get more than another mile today, then,” Cyte said, making the same calculation.

Marsh nodded. “Bobby and Captain Verity have gone ahead to secure a campsite.”

“Six miles, maybe?” Winter said, looking back the way they had come. “That’s pretty mediocre marching.”

“Janus isn’t pushing us,” Cyte said. “Any faster and we’d outrun the wagon train.”

Unlike on the Khandarai campaign, where the ships of the Vordanai transport fleet had been able to keep the small Colonial army supplied, Janus’ Army of the East had to rely on a slow-grinding supply convoys taking the coast road from depots at Essyle. Fortunately, the battle—known as the Battle of Diarach after the tiny village where Janus had made his headquarters—seemed to have taken all the wind out of the sails of the League army.

Given a thrashing when they’d expected to deliver one, the divided components of di Pfalen’s force had retreated in two different directions. Di Pfalen’s own army, with mostly Hamveltai troops, had fallen back to the north toward the great bastion of Antova, while a smaller force of mostly Deslandai troops had moved off to the east toward their home city. Janus had left a small force to watch di Pfalen, and marched the majority of his troops, nearly forty thousand strong, down the road to Desland. So far, however, he’d been content to match the pace of the slow-moving Deslandai army, rather than outrunning his supplies in an effort to cut the enemy off.

“Desland hasn’t got a modern fortification,” Marsh said. “If we get our guns up, we’ll pound their walls to splinters in a few hours.”

Winter nodded. “They’ll have to turn and fight before we get there. How many miles left?”

“Forty-five, after today,” Cyte said. Unsurprisingly, she’d turned out to be an expert with maps. “Maybe a week’s march at this pace.”

“So we’ll have a fight sometime before then.” Winter shook her head. “Marsh, go and tell Captain Verity to make sure there’s a space for drilling in the camp. We’ll have time this evening while we wait for the wagons, and I think we’d better polish up.”

“Yes, sir!” Marsh saluted again, turned his horse with a light touch on the reins, and trotted up the length of the column.