There’s no time to be lost—”

“But, m’lord,” Sir Roye said in protest. “What about the raid that left fourteen of your villagers dead and their huts afire? What about the Nega who—” “The Nega would not raid,” Dain said hotly. “They never raid. They are—” “We saw their marks, boy,” Sir Roye said. “We have proof.” “A mark is not proof.”

“And who else would draw it?”

“The Bnen who did the raid,” Dain said, meeting the knight glare for glare. “The Bnen I saw carrying man-loot and bringing man-prisoners. Here lies Nega land,” he said, pointing at the curve of forest behind Lord Odfrey, “but the Nega do not winter this far west. They are gone south, to their mines in the Rock Hills.”

Lord Odfrey pointed to the cap, which lay on the ground where Sir Roye had thrown it. Dain hastened to pick it up and hand it to the chevard, who turned it over in his hands.

“This is Nocine’s,” the chevard said. “There is blood on it.” Sir Roye’s face crinkled up as he squinted at his lord. “And if this one’s a trickster, sent forth to lead us off the trail?”

Lord Odfrey looked at Dain. “Come here, boy.”

Dain went to him, as wary as before, and stood next to his stirrup. Lord Odfrey reached down his hand. Hesitantly, Dain started to clasp it as he had seen Mandrians do, but Lord Odfrey gripped him hard just above his elbow. The chevard’s fingers were like steel, clamped on to Dain’s flesh. Dain struggled to hold back a gasp, and hid the pain he felt from his face.  Lord Odfrey’s dark eyes bored into Dain’s pale gray ones as though he meant to look inside his very soul. Then he released him so abruptly, Dain staggered back.

“He brings us truth,” Lord Odfrey declared.

The men exchanged glances, murmuring to each other. Sir Roye’s mouth opened in dismay. “M’lord—” Lord Odfrey drew his foot from the stirrup, and Dain jumped back out of reach.  “Quickly now,” Lord Odfrey said to him as though he did not notice. “Get up behind me.”

Dain put his foot in the stirrup and scrambled up behind Lord Odfrey’s saddle.  He had never ridden such a tall horse as this before. He felt as though he were floating high in the air. The charger shifted beneath him, its powerful hindquarters flexing with strength. Dain clamped his legs tight to hold on with, and Lord Odfrey cast him a glance.

“Don’t kick him in the flanks or we’ll both be thrown,” he said, and wheeled the horse around with such speed Dain nearly toppled off. “Hang on to my cloak and point the way.”

Dain gripped the magnificent fur in one hand and slid his other past Lord Odfrey’s armored elbow. “There.”

Lord Odfrey gathered his reins, but Sir Roye was not yet done.  He spurred his horse to block Lord Odfrey’s path. His eyes held distrust and suspicion. “M’lord, consider the risk. If he’s leading us into a trap—” “And if he is not?” Lord Odfrey retorted. “Will I chase blindly through the Dark Forest all day or will I use this guide that Thod has brought us?” “Thod is leading us in the guise of a pagan?” someone behind Dain said in loud disbelief. “Mercy of Tomias, what next?”

Dain did not glance back to see who spoke, and neither did Lord Odfrey. The chevard’s gaze clashed with Sir Roye’s. “Will you protest all day, or will you follow me, Sir Roye?”