“Maybe,” Blorys said evenly, “but it’s gone from bad to worseout here, just in the three years we’ve guided caravans, and he keeps pullingback closer and closer to the walls every year. He hasn’t much choice.” Hegrinned crookedly, patted his brother awkwardly on the shoulder. “Sorry. Youknow all that, same as I do.”

“Never mind,” Jerdren replied easily.

They took a proper meal break in the open, then halted again briefly where the Keep road branched. Here the woods pressed closer and jumbled piles of boulders and slabbed rock were everywhere. The hired men kept watch up and down the road so Lhodis, his cutter, and two of his apprentices could mount the horses that had been tied to the rear wagon. The remaining merchant folk redistributed themselves in the three wagons, to make the hard climb as easy as possible for the teams. Blorys dismounted to help adjust stirrups and girths. Jerdren sat his bay gelding and kept a careful eye on the east woods and the road threading its narrow, rutted way through the trees. Eventually it vanished into tree shadow where the woods came down to meet it.

Jerdren glanced up as the sun went behind a cloud, and a light, chill wind blew between his coif and the back of his neck. The air felt damp, all at once. Rain or perhaps even snow by nightfall, he thought. Snow was something he’d only appreciate from inside the Keep’s tavern, with a good mug ofale in his hands and a belly full of the taverner’s best stew warming him.

Blorys had finished with the horses and stopped to talk briefly with the gray-beard who was running the a careful check on the last of the wagon-brakes. He called the hired men in and went over to join his brother, who was still gazing down the east track.