The evidence of the ongoing war surrounded them—burned-out farmhouses, salvos of foot soldiers on the march, massive keeps locked up tight with battle flags flying, large encampments of soldiers. Repeatedly, Han’s party left the right of way, hiding themselves in the trees to avoid mounted patrols flying the myriad colors of the warring thanes.

They came upon battlefields, sometimes dislodging crows and carrion birds from the decomposing bodies. The scavengers circled overhead, complaining rudely, then settled again as soon as they passed. Several times they passed gibbets bearing the stinking fruit of recent executions.

It’s a good season for crows, Han thought. There was no way they’d be in time for the opening day of classes, delayed as they were by their late start and many detours.

Cat wasn’t happy on horseback. The horse Jemson had lent her was an ill-favored, lazy beast, nearly as bad-tempered as Ragger. Cat clung to his back like a sticker burr, totally uncomfortable, impossible to dislodge. Things went better once Han convinced her to switch to the spare pony. They used Cat’s horse for baggage.

Cat’s superior street skills did little good in the countryside, which made her sullen and briary. She wasn’t used to being second best at anything.

Han and Dancer traded off teaching Cat woodcraft, such as tracking and bow hunting. She had quick, accurate reflexes, and she’d always been good with blades of all kinds. When their hunting was successful, she quickly learned to skin and dress the carcasses.

She seemed subdued, very different from the Cat Han remembered from the Raggers. In the past, it was Cat’s pride and obstinacy that got her into trouble. Now she seemed snappish, like a dog that’s been kicked too many times.

She displayed a persistent prejudice against Dancer for the crime of being clan. It seemed ironic, Cat being from the Southern Islands, that she’d soaked up Vale attitudes. Sometimes people that get beat on just want to beat on someone else.

They continued to travel by night. As dawn approached, they’d find a sheltered place to lay up for the day. Han and Cat would set out a few snares, while Dancer built a fire and set up camp. They’d eat, catch a few hours sleep, then prop up and pull out their books.

Dancer switched off between his Demonai flashcraft book and the book of charms. Han committed charms to memory, then struggled to make his amulet do what he wanted. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed, but at least there were no more aggressive spurts of power or bizarre, self-destructive behavior.

He’d just as soon get that out of his system out here in the middle of nowhere.