The magus shrugged again. “It is the only choice left.”

“They’re also kind of a deathtrap at this time of year,” Kaczmarek pointed out. “Unless you have a way of predicting flash floods.”

“He’s correct that it’s better than the alternatives,” I said. “We can’t go through the Talben pass, and we’d be months out of our way if we circled around.”

I looked over the Afamacian again. Despite his rich dress, he wasn’t carrying any extra weight, unless the waistcoat was very carefully cut to hide it. His face – handsome, but made up of oddly few planes, as though carved by a sculpter with only broad chisels – didn’t betray any fat either.

“Can you ride?” I asked. “We’re travelling fast and rough, your Excellency.” I hoped that was the correct style for a magus, but I had no idea of Afamacian court etiquette.

He nodded resolutely. “It will not be a problem.”

I glanced at my companions. “Jäger? And sir, you have the final say, of course.”

Kaczmarek shrugged. “If he slows us down, we can always ditch him. I don’t mind.”

I winced and looked at His Highness, who nodded. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem,” he said. “After all, he can’t be slower than I am.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, sir,” I said, shaking my head. “But then there it is. Welcome aboard, Magus Alemayehu.”

Of course, it wasn’t quite as simple as “there it is”, and we spent the next hours hashing out the details while the night deepened and a serving boy slipped around the room lighting candles with a long yellow taper. The mood around us slowly turned rowdier as drink flowed, a rougher side of the clientele brought to the front.

At length we finished our discussion and set out to retire for the night, making our way through the people. A ragged merchant well deep in his drinks staggered in our path, hailing us.

“Ah, pretty lady, won’t you keep a merchant company tonight?” He leered at Kaczmarek, who turned to me triumphantly.

“See, Schreiner? Normal people can tell I’m a woman,” she crowed.

“In his current state I believe he’d proposition a badger,” I replied drily. “I think you had better sleep the rest of the night, good man,” I addressed the drunk. “Your drink has the better of you, I fear.”

“Aww, let the lady speak for ‘erself,” he slurred, grabbing the jäger’s wrist. She shifted her balance, taking a step back with her left leg. For a moment I was worried she had stumbled, but then I winced instead as a ringing slap cracked out over the bustle.

“You want my knuckles to speak next time?” Kaczmarek challenged, shaking out her right hand. The force of the blow had knocked the merchant back a step. The drunk had the fingers of a comic red handprint on his cheek, but no palm. Instead, Kaczmarek’s palm had split his lip.

“Immer, jäger,” I muttered. “Weren’t you cautioning me about restraint earlier?”

She glared at me, but cut off whatever she was about to say as the drunkard staggered forward again, apparently not getting the message.

“Oi, oi, there ‘as no ca’ for tha’,” he mangled between the drink and his puffing lip. He stumbled forward again, hand reaching out to grab Kaczmarek’s arm. Instantly, the jäger’s left fist flashed out into his solar plexus, dropping the man like a poleaxed ox. Some of the more inebriated patrons cheered, and I tapped her shoulder, recoiling away when she spun on me with murder in her eyes.

“Immer, jäger,” I repeated, raising my hands. “It’s alright. But we’re making a spectacle. Let Goodman Braun sort this guttersnipe out.”

She glared for a moment longer, but turned away to spit on the drunk gasping for breath on the floorboards. “Next time it’s the knife,” she hissed, and I tugged on her sleeve. She flinched, fists half-balling again before she set off for the stairs with an angry stride.

His Highness had drawn in close to my side as though taking shelter in the course of this, and I offered him a weak smile. “Life down here on the streets, sir. No place for a gentleman, really, sir.” I hurried him to the stairs, up to the relative seclusion of our room. The sound of the common room below carried up through the gaps in the shutters and around the door, but it was quieter. As I shot the bolt, thoughts of hunters crossed my mind again and my lips pulled into a line.

“You should wash up and get some sleep, sir,” I said, checking the bolt on the shutters. “No rest for the righteous. Back on the road tomorrow, and I don’t doubt it’ll be harder than it has been so far.” Satisfied with the shutters, I pulled the desultory attempt at a pillow from my bunk and dropped it on the ground against the wall. His Highness gave me a worried look.

“Schreiner?”

“I’ll sleep here, sir,” I said, gesturing to the wall. “Where I can see the door and get up quick, sir. I have a bad feeling.”

“You always have a bad feeling, Schreiner,” he chided gently. “You should sleep properly as well.”

I forced a smile. “I appreciate it, sir, but safety comes first. I’ve suffered much worse.”

The prince gave me an unconvinced look, but finished washing off the smoke of the common room in the basin and went to bed. I washed my face and hands, then loosed my sword belt and sat down against the wall, pulling the blanket over my legs and resting the scimitar atop it, one hand on the hilt and the other on the scabbard. The stone wall was cold against my back and the floor hard beneath me, the pillow doing little except for blunting any splinters, but I’d slept less comfortably before. The woollen blanket was actually quite nice, even, if a little scratchy. No signs of fleas, certainly, and that was a mercy.

I was resigning myself to a restless night of light sleep and staring at the cracks of light around the door when there was a rustle and a thud next to me. The prince had, like me, pulled his pillow and blanket from his bed and was sitting against the wall next to it. I sighed.

“You really shouldn’t, sir,” I said. “You need your rest.”

“And you do too, gefreiter,” he said firmly. “If I wish to do this, I shall.”

I dropped my head. “As you say, sir.” It was a touching gesture, but still ultimately foolish.

It wasn’t long before His Highness was snoring slightly from his awkward posture, and I could at least be sure he was getting sleep – whether it was restful, I couldn’t say.

The night passed slowly, but despite my fears no drunks or enemy soldiers came pounding at the doors. I drifted in and out of wakefulness, at one point waking to the prince letting out a soft cry in his sleep. I hoped the nightmares weren’t too bad.

Finally the dawn rose, grey light trickling through the shutters, and I roused my stiff body from the blanket. The prince stirred while I was dashing my face with icy water from the basin, chasing away the spirits of lost sleep haunting the edges of my vision.

“Sleep well, your Highness?” I asked, scrubbing my face with a towel. He produced an incoherent muttering in response.

We met up with Kaczmarek and Alemayehu downstairs. The jäger looked as tired as I felt, her round features struck with dark creases. A stripe of black grease on her jaw added to the haggard look. Her hair was a more uniform filthy grey now, I noted – she must have undone her plait and brushed out most of the uniform darkening. Presumably not in the bath last night, or she’d be grey from head to toe. I was once again grateful that my own hair was dark enough to pass inspection without darkening.

The magus looked exactly as he had yesterday, with not a hair out of place or a rogue crease on his shirt. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or disappointed.

We didn’t want to stick around, with what the magus had said. After a breakfast of some kind of mess of fried potatoes and cured meat – redeemed mainly, in my opinion, by the giant mugs of tea served with it – I persuaded Braun to sell us some provisions from his store, mainly by means of the bargaining skills I’d been imparted by Major von Staffen before leaving Nachberg. That is, a sum of money large enough to pay a half-again price increase without blinking. It obviated the need for a trip through the city to find all the foodstuffs.

The common room was surprisingly busy already this early, with many of the merchants and other patrons apparently also being early risers. A handful were already heading out, even; I didn’t know much about hauling, but I supposed they appreciated an early start as much as anyone. Although I wasn’t sure if they even needed to haul downstream in spring. A question for another time, I suppose, I thought.

Our newly-expanded party of four left the inn with bulging saddlebags. The magus’s tack was fine workmanship with embossed highlights, but not gaudy. I hoped it was muted enough that any could-be brigands didn’t notice it and decide to be brigands for certain.

It was still raining, or perhaps raining again, outside in the courtyard. I squinted up at the sky, hoping for a break in the cloud cover and some hope of relief, but all I saw was flat grey. I sighed, just as Kaczmarek muttered, “Ah, Heavens’ sake.”

“Lousy weather for travelling,” I agreed.

“Not that, moron,” she said. “Them.” I looked down as she jerked her head at a merchant with a split lip and a pair of bulky haulers.

“Ah, Immer,” I echoed her, feelingly.