three men pulling up to stop. "I didn't notice you there."
"I'm sure you didn't," Lan said flatly. "And you, Nazar. You put your hadori away when you were a lad. Now you don one?"
"I may do as I wish," Nazar said. He was getting old he must be past his seventieth year but he carried a sword on his saddle. His hair had gone white.
The third man, Rakim, wasn't Malkieri. He had the tilted eyes of a Saldaean, and he shrugged at Lan, looking a little embarrassed.
Lan raised his fingers to his forehead, closing his eyes as the three rode
ahead. What foolish game were they playing? No matter, Lan thought, opening his eyes.
Bulen started to say something, but Lan quieted him with a glare. He turned southward off the road, cutting down a small, worn trail.
Before long, he heard muffled hoofbeats from behind. Lan spun as he saw the three men riding behind him. Lan pulled Mandarb to a halt, teeth gritted. "I'm not raising the Golden Crane!"
"We didn't say you were," Nazar said. The three parted around him again, riding past.
Lan kicked Mandarb forward, riding up to them. "Then stop following me."
"Last I checked, we were ahead of you," Andere said. "You turned this way after me," Lan accused.
"You don't own the roads, Lan Mandragoran," Andere said. He glanced at Lan, face shadowed in the night. "If you haven't noticed, I'm no longer the boy the Hero of Salmarna berated so long ago. I've become a soldier, and soldiers are needed. So I will ride this way if I please."
"I command you to turn and go back," Lan said. "Find a different path eastward."
Rakim laughed, his voice still hoarse after all these years. "You're not my captain any longer, Lan. Why would I obey your orders?" The others chuckled.
"We'd obey a king, of course," Nazar said.
"Yes," Andere said. "If he gave us commands, perhaps we would. But I don't see a king here. Unless I'm mistaken."
"There can be no king of a fallen people," Lan said. "No king without a kingdom."
"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?"