"Ah. I've stopped being a lord?"

"Yes. If anyone asks if you're a wizard, do or say nothing that could be taken for agreement, nor familiarity with magic. Just act dazed."

"How will I understand anyth-"

Taeauna made a sharp chopping motion with her hand that clearly meant "be silent!" Rod obliged.

Hastening down the lane were four men: the stout armored warrior who'd stepped out between the two guards, and three bowmen in ragged clothes of what looked like soft, well-worn hides sewn together. The knight in the middle drew his sword as he strode around the first bend, and the archers readied arrows and spread out to either side of him.

Taeauna sheathed her dagger and stood waiting for them, head held high. As the knight approached, slowing warily after his boots slipped twice on moss-covered cobbles, she gently spread her hands wide in front of her, palms out to show they were empty. The archers raised their bows but kept their shafts aimed off into the trees.

All of them were peering keenly at Taeauna and at Rod-especially at Rod, covered in blood and wearing only his boxers.

"You are come to Hollowtree in strange array," the knight said flatly as he came to a halt three paces away. He was a stout, hard-faced man with an air of importance and a belt bristling with silver-hilted daggers.

Rod stared back at him. So they spoke English here. Well of course they would, if his dreams shaped things…

"Indeed, Warsword Lhauntur," Taeauna replied. "Yet we mean no harm to any here, and crave but a night's rest. Unlooked-for magic, not of our weaving, has delivered us out of desperate battle against Dark Helms."

The warsword gave her a sharp look. "You know me?"

Taeauna smiled a little bitterly. "We toasted each other in yon garden last summertide, Lhauntur. I had wings then."