Laith nodded. “You want to go with a V or a half-hatch?” Once the flier got his griping and theatrics out of the way, he actually liked to fight. Not as much as he liked to fly, but then, there wasn’t much flying to be had without a bird.

“Half-hatch,” Valyn said, indicating a gnarled trunk and a waist-high line of scrub on the far side of the road.

“It’s going to be tight,” Talal said, turning an ear toward the drumming hooves.

Valyn nodded.

“What’s the play?” Laith asked.

“After the halt,” Valyn said, spinning out the possibilities as he spoke, “I’ll take the dismount. . . .”

“If there’s a dismount,” Talal said.

“No dismount, and we ditch it,” Valyn said. “We let them ride.”

“You take the dismount,” Laith urged, waving a hand impatiently, “then—”

“Spark and bang,” Valyn replied. He glanced at Talal.

“Yeah,” the leach replied. “I can manage it.”

“All right then. Standard. One moves for the bridle. The other takes him down. Don’t worry about sound. We’ve got to be five miles from the river by now. Just make sure he doesn’t bolt.”

“And if there are more?” Talal asked.

Valyn paused to listen to the drumming hooves. It was tricky to unthread the different gaits, but the horses were close now. He was all but certain there were only four beasts. “Four men means no remounts,” he said, “and that pace without remounts would be idiocy.”

Laith nodded, then turned to jog into position.

Talal hesitated.

“Say it or stow it,” Valyn said. “They’re almost on us.”

“Seems right,” the leach said after a moment. “Standard protocol. Four horses. Two men.” He turned to follow Laith.

Valyn realized the approaching soldiers had buggered the ’Kent-kissing protocol the moment the horses hammered into view.

Four horses. Four men.

Either they had a remount not far to the south or they were utter fools. It hardly mattered. Valyn lay just to the side of the road. Had there been even a little cover, his blacks might have concealed him—the men were riding hard, and couldn’t expect a body here, near the very fringe of the empire—but then, Valyn had chosen his spot precisely for the lack of cover. A dead-man ambush wasn’t much good if the mark rode by without noticing the deader. Cursing under his breath, he rolled toward the low gully a few paces distant, but the soldiers were on him before he was halfway there, the leader calling out to his companions over the clatter of hooves, all of them hauling up short, horses blowing.

“Stand and show yourself,” one of the soldiers called out. The command was followed by the uneasy scrape of steel over leather as the men freed their swords.