About ten paces behind her walked Xilsi, alert, on guard. Behind Xilsi walked a warden Elen didn’t recognize at first because the man was wearing an indigo scarf that concealed his hair. It took her a moment to recognize long-black-hair-in-a-bun Jirvy. In the empire, scarves were worn by women, not by men, yet the fantastically elaborate knotwork fastening the scarf gave the warden a swaggering air. No one else gave him a second glance, which made her think they had seen him wearing scarves before. He had a southern lilt to his speech; maybe folks wore things differently in the southern provinces. It was none of Elen’s business, and, honestly, she admired how striking the style looked on him. Once, Xilsi glanced back as if annoyed, or checking Jirvy out, but Xilsi was a warden who knew her business and otherwise kept her attention on the landscape.

Simo ranged on and off the path, seeking signs of Spore. The big menial, Fulmo, came next. All the wardens carried extra gear to make up for the loss of the carriages. Fulmo carried a pack three times the size of everyone else’s, but its weight did not seem to bother him.

By now Elen was sure that Fulmo was not an extremely large human but a gagast. The gagast homeland was rumored to be far to the east, or maybe beyond the trackless southern forests. They were rarely mentioned in early chronicles of the empire. A generation ago, small groups of them had appeared out of the Desolation, calling themselves exiles. The Hibiscus Emperor had magnanimously allowed them to serve in the palace.

Gevulin walked directly behind Fulmo. The prince was burdened only by a sheathed shrive-steel sword, a bow quiver with arrows slung across his back, his riding whip, and a small leather pouch like the one every deputy courier carried that held the tools for killing Spore. He was looking around with delighted interest. When he caught Elen’s eye on him, he grinned. It wasn’t so much that he was close enough for her to see his expression; it was the sudden lift to his walk and the amused tilt of his chin.

High Heavens! Was she glad of a prince’s attention? Or, perhaps worse, that of a mysterious and perilous haunt?

This would not do. Yet she felt lightened, as if this expedition was destined to be a charming adventure and not a tedious slog. A hawk in the distance distracted the prince. He looked away to follow its flight as it stooped, diving after prey.