He climbed a tree to get a better view. The lights of Ardenscourt faded against the rising sun to the east. He guessed they were a few miles west of the city.

He climbed back down. “It’ll take them a while to sort things out back there. We can be back to the inn by breakfast time,” he said. “Once we’re in the city, they won’t dare come after us in daylight. Let’s go.”

C H A P T E R  E I G H T

ODEN’S
FORD

It took more than a week for the Gray Wolves to reach the border of the Kingdom of Tamron. The spiderwebbing waterways of the Fens eventually coalesced into the broad and lazy Tamron River. It meandered south, wrapping around islands and sandbars as if it didn’t really care where it was going.

Waterwalkers poled rafts and flatboats up and down the river at will, there being little current to fight. The Wolves traveled mostly at night, staying well away from the riverbanks, and making wide circles around Waterwalker villages. After their experience at Rivertown, they did not know how they would be received.

They slipped across the border one night, waiting until after sunset. They needn’t have troubled themselves. The keep that frowned over the river road on the Tamron side was abandoned—occupied only by feral cats and armies of mice, living amicably together. The stable yard was overgrown with brambles and grasses. Some of the stonework had been cannibalized by scavengers.

“Tamron must’ve sent their armies south and east, to reinforce the border with Arden,” Amon said, kicking at a rusted bucket lying in the weeds. “Seems they’re not worried about the Waterwalkers down here.”

They slept that night in the shelter of the ruined castle. Amon directed Raisa to a corner of what must have been the officers’ mess, and planted himself and his bedroll next to the door. The other Wolves found sleeping space in the courtyard.

Raisa could see stars above where portions of the wooden roof had rotted away. It was good to have sturdy walls around her, after their experiences in the Fens, yet she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Once again, she second-guessed her decision to leave the Fells. Homesickness lay like a cold stone under her breastbone.

The mountains called to her, all the dead queens in their tombs of stone. Raisa, they whispered. Raisa ana’Marianna ana’Rissa and all the other ana’s back to Hanalea. Come back home.

I refuse to cooperate in the re-enslavement of the Gray Wolf line, she thought.

Finally, she rose and walked to the doorway and stood over Amon Byrne, where he lay cocooned in his blanket. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he whispered. “Why are you up?”

“Why can’t I ever sneak up on you?” she demanded.