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Countess.” 
    Ark kept walking. 
    “You’ve been out of the Legions for at least three or four years,” said Caina, following him. “That armor is making you uncomfortable, though I doubt you’ll ever admit it. Oh, and you’re a widower.”
    Ark stopped. He turned towards her, his eyes wide and wild and full of a terrible pain, and Caina felt a sudden stab of fear. Had she pushed him too far? 
    “Halfdan told you,” he hissed, his voice full of fury, “Halfdan told you, he promised, he swore that he would never tell a soul…”
    “He didn’t,” said Caina, voice quiet. “You talk in your sleep. A woman’s name, over and over again. Tanya.” She pointed. “And you keep fiddling with that ring on your left hand.” 
    Ark stared at her, breathing hard, and bit by bit he mastered himself. 
    “Perhaps, Countess,” said Ark, his voice toneless and dead, “I may have misjudged you.” 
    Caina nodded. 
    “But do not speak of Tanya again. Not ever. Not to anyone,” said Ark. “Do you understand me?”
    Caina heard the threat in his words, and did not like it. But there was no reason to push him any further. She had made her point. So she nodded again.
    “We should return to the caravan,” said Ark. “They will begin to whisper, if you keep disappearing with your captain of the guard.”
    “Let them,” said Caina. “Silly, frivolous Countesses are rarely known for their chastity, after all.” 

    ###

    The eastward journey wore on.
    Ark spoke to her very little, and Caina soon grew weary of conversation with the maids, so she took to speaking with the teamsters and the peddlers. A few of them spoke Caerish, but most of them spoke only Saddaic. Caina took the opportunity to practice the tongue, and discovered to her delight that one of the peddlers had some books in his inventory. 
    Caina bought three. The first was a typical history of the Empire, the second a collection of poetry and songs from the Empire’s long-ago wars against the Sea Kings of Old Kyrace. The third, though, described the Battle of Rasadda, when the Emperor Crisius threw down Corazain, the last and mightiest of the Ashbringers. Caina hoped it might have some insights into her current situation. 
    Cornelia looked shocked that her lady would read in public, but Caina did not care.
    Later that day she saw the first abandoned village. It sat athwart the road, the houses crumbling, weeds growing in the streets. The village had once been surrounded by cultivated fields, but the grasses of the Saddai plains were returning. The place could not have been abandoned for more than five or six years, Caina guessed. 
    “What happened here?” she asked Cornelia. “Plague?”
    “No, my lady, no plague,” said Cornelia. “This was a village of Saddai farm folk. Lazy and shiftless people. The cattle men have been buying up all their lands and converting them to pasture.” She nodded with approval. “They’ll finally have to work to fill their bellies.”
    Caina frowned but said nothing. A mile later she saw the first cattle herd. Hundreds of cows and steers, perhaps even a thousand, wandered across the plains. A few men on horseback tended them, cracking whips and shooting suspicious glares at the caravan. 
    “What happens to the farmers, once they’re forced off their lands?” said Caina.
    Cornelia stared at her, then laughed. “Surely my lady doesn’t care about some filthy Saddai commoners.”
    “I am merely curious,” said Caina.
    Cornelia shrugged. “I’m sure I don’t know. They go to the cities, I expect, and try to find work. Probably to Rasadda.” She made an exaggerated shudder. “Dirty people, the lot of them.”
    Caina felt her patience leave her. “My legs are cramped. I think I shall walk for a while.”
    “Amongst the teamsters?” said Cornelia. “Surely my lady would rather stay in the coach.”
    “She would not,” said Caina, closing the book about Corazain the Ashbringer. “Fear not. My captain