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He blanched. “We’re hungry.”

I nodded.

“That wizard, he didn’t keep the duke from getting killed. Or the rain from getting the crops.”

“Why didn’t you stay with the new duke? Dukes always need soldiers.”

The two looked back and forth.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the story, but I shifted my grip on the staff.

Finally, the younger one swallowed again. “Well…it wasn’t our choice. Grenter—he was the squad leader—sent us out to round up some…pilgrims…”

I must have raised my eyebrows.

The older man added quickly, “This was under the old duke, you understand.”

“They must have heard about us coming. They were all gone from where they were staying.”

“Where was that?”

“In Freetown…the Travelers’ Rest, it was called.”

“Was called?”

“The wizard burned it. He had a hard time, even with his helper. We didn’t see that. Grenter sent us to find them before they left the city.” The younger ruffian looked around, then back at me, and swallowed.

A thin cloud drifted across the pale sun and the wind picked up, throwing a few dry leaves onto the roadway.

“We caught up, Herris here and me and Dorret and Symms, with two of their women. Hard blond woman and a looker, black-haired. I wish we hadn’t found them. Dorret never knew what happened.”

“What did happen?” I prompted.

“The blond put a throwing knife through his throat so quick I didn’t see it happen. He’s down gurgling and clutching at his neck, and Symms jerks out his blade and tries to spit her. Except that the looker has a blade, and she makes him look like a recruit.”

The older man, Herris, coughed and spat.

I looked at him.

“Fydor has it right,” he acknowledged.

“There were still two of you.”

Herris glared at me. “The nasty blond had two knives left and she wanted to use them both. The other woman’s a born killer. She never raised a sweat, and she smiled when she killed Symms.”

“So you let them go?”

They looked back and forth. Finally, the younger one looked at the ground and said. “I yelled for help, and the second squad came from the other side of the market, not all of them, but there were three.”

“Don’t tell me that two women butchered them, too?” I let my voice get sarcastic, even though I was enjoying hearing how Wrynn and Krystal had mangled some of the duke’s forces.

“Not all of them. One guy, Gorson, got away with just losing his right hand and a shoulder wound. They killed the other two.”

“And you two just left them?”

They both looked down.

Finally, Herris spat again. “They were witches. They were from Recluce. No way I’d go against devils like that.”

“Where did they go?”

Fydor shrugged, his eyes avoiding mine. “I’d guess they went to Kyphros. The autarch likes good women blades. They didn’t take this road, and that leaves the mountain road or the coast.”

“Ser wizard, you don’t look all that surprised…” Herris still didn’t look at me.

“I’ve crossed blades with the dark-haired one.”

“Blades?”

“Staff against blade.”

Herris stepped back. “I’m real sorry, ser. Real sorry. Wish I’d never met either one of you.”

Fydor followed his example and backed away.

Then both of them were walking quickly, almost running, looking over their shoulders as they headed back in the direction of Weevett.

I watched them go, my mouth half-open.

“Very impressive, young Lerris.” Justen sat astride Rosefoot, next to the toppled oak, watching, as I suspected he had been all along.

That he had left me to fight them alone angered me, even as I was proud that I had managed it. But Justen wouldn’t care one way or the other. “How did you do that without the heat waves?”

Justen smiled. “That takes practice. You could do it right now with the distortion lines, but you have to equalize the temperature on both sides of the mirror to avoid what you call heat waves.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’ll explain some of it while we ride. The rest is in your book. Rosefoot had a drink while you were dispatching that pair.” Justen did not move the reins, but Rosefoot turned and carried