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’And what have I seen of the world, sir? Scant little Bodyguard to a Holy Falah in Aren -’

’Bodyguard? Why mince words? You were his private assassin’

’My journey has just begun, is what I was trying to say, sir You -- your soldiers -- what you’ve seen, what you’ve been through ’ He shook his head ’It’s all there, in your eyes’

Whiskeyjack studied the

Kalam removed the pot and poured out two cups of thebrew, handed one up to the commander ’We’ll catch up with them tomorrow’

’Indeed We’ve ridden steady the day through, twice the pace of a soldier’s jog How es? A bell’s worth? Two? Nowarrens ’

The assassin, frowning, slowly shook his head ’Then I would have lost the trail, sir Once they entered a warren, all signs of them would have vanished’

’Yes Yet the footprints lead on, unbroken Why is that?’

Kalam squinted into the fire ’I don’t know, sir’

Whiskeyjack drained the bitter tea, dropped the tin cup to the ground beside the assassin, then strode away

Day followed day, the pursuit taking thees and arroyos of the hills More bodies were discovered, desiccated figures that Kalah Meanas; Keluger, a Septime Priest of D’riss, the Wore, sworn to Fener and aspirant to the god’s Mortal Sword; Ullan, the Soletaken priestess of Soliel

Deprivation took its toll on the hunters Horses died, were butchered and eaten The surviving beasts thinned, grew gaunt Had not the ly to one hidden spring after another, everyone would have died, there in Raraku’s relentless wasteland

Set’alahd Crool, a Jhag half-blood who’d once driven Dassem Ultor back a half-dozen steps in furious counterattack, his sword ablaze with the blessing of some unknown ascendant; Etra, a e of the Serc warren who could pull storms down from the sky; Gellid, witch of the Tennes warren