“And yet you ride,” Nazar said, flicking his reins. “Ride to your death in a land you claim is no kingdom.”

“It is my destiny.”

The three shrugged, then pulled ahead of him.

“Don’t be fools,” Lan said, voice soft as he pulled Mandarb to a halt. “This path leads to death.”

“Death is lighter than a feather, Lan Mandragoran,” Rakim called over his shoulder. “If we ride only to death, then the trail will be easier than I’d thought!”

Lan gritted his teeth, but what was he to do? Beat all three of them senseless and leave them beside the road? He nudged Mandarb forward.

The two had become five.

Galad continued his morning meal, noting that Child Byar had come to speak with him. The meal was simple fare: porridge with a handful of raisins stirred in. A simple meal for every soldier kept them all from envy. Some Lords Captain Commander had dined far better than their men. That would not do for Galad. Not when so many in the world starved.

Child Byar waited inside the flaps of Galad’s tent, awaiting recognition. The gaunt, sunken-cheeked man wore his white cloak, a tabard over mail underneath.

Galad eventually set aside his spoon and nodded to Byar. The soldier strode up to the table and waited, still at attention. There were no elaborate furnishings to Galad’s tent. His sword—Valda’s sword—lay on the plain table behind his wooden bowl, slightly drawn. The herons on the blade peeked out from beneath the scabbard, and the polished steel reflected Byar’s form.

“Speak,” Galad said.

“I have more news about the army, my Lord Captain Commander,” Byar said. “They are near where the captives said they would be, a few days from us.”

Galad nodded. “They fly the flag of Ghealdan?”

“Alongside the flag of Mayene.” That flame of zeal glinted in Byar’s eyes. “And the wolfhead, though reports say they took that down late yesterday. Goldeneyes is there. Our scouts are sure of it.”

“Did he really kill Bornhald’s father?”

“Yes, my Lord Captain Commander. I have a familiarity with this creature. He and his troops come from a place called the Two Rivers.”

“The Two Rivers?” Galad said. “Curious, how often I seem to hear of that place, these days. Is that not where al’Thor is from?”

“So it is said,” Byar replied.

Galad rubbed his chin. “They grow good tabac there, Child Byar, but I have not heard of them growing armies.”

“It is a dark place, my Lord Captain Commander. Child Bornhald and I spent some time there last year; it is festering with Darkfriends.”

Galad sighed. “You sound like a Questioner.”

“My Lord Captain Commander,” Byar earnestly continued, “my Lord, please believe me. I am not simply speculating. This is different.”

Galad frowned. Then he gestured toward the other stool beside his table. Byar took it.

“Explain yourself,” Galad said. “And tell me everything you know of this Perrin Goldeneyes.”