Bode and Grey returned to the foothills, and a single Ranger escorted Ralan along the path that led to the river crossing. His name was Django, and he was nervous and quiet, which suited Ralan fine. Django would wander ahead, his head darting left and right as he looked for unknown danger.

While Django rather easily trotted ahead, keeping an eye out, Ralan had a tough time concentrating on keeping his seat while navigating the "path." Like the foothills, where the Ranger saw a path, Ralan saw ruts and rocks.

Django kept stopping and waiting on Ralan, until he finally barked out, "Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

"I don't want my horse to twist an ankle. This ground is treacherous," Ralan replied, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Shaking his head, Django walked his horse back to Ralan. "So you aren't familiar with horses then." Ralan was going to object, but he didn't feel like the time was right. "Do you see these things?" Django pointed to the front of the horse's head.

"His eyes?"

"Exactly. Your horse can see. Trust him to pick the right path. Your eyes—" Django pointed at Ralan's eyes. "—Should focus there." He then pointed off to the horizon. Without saying anything else, Django turned his horse and continued onward.

Ralan decided to at least give the advice a try, although it made him nervous not to guide the horse away from ruts and rocks that could make it stumble. He focused on watching Django, and after a bit of time two things happened: His horse made good time without stumbling, and Ralan realized that Django's random nervousness was actually a deliberate pattern.

The ranger would look left, then right, then straight ahead, and then he would pause to look toward the river, which was getting closer with each step. Finally, he would scan the horizon in a long arc from left to right, pausing only if he saw something that alarmed him. It was this last part that made his process look random—there presumably was something that alarmed him during every stop, and he would re-start the scanning process each time he dismissed what he had seen before.

The two of them finally reached the river, and the crossing was at a spot where the river split around a sandy island. The widening of the river made it more shallow, and the island acted as a land bridge over what would have been the deepest part.

As they stood on the bank, Django held up a fist. "This is more dangerous than it looks." Ralan looked around. He had no idea what dangerous or safe terrain looked like. "We can see far in every direction, so there is no near-term risk. However, once we reach the island, we cannot escape quickly. We will need to struggle through the water. That means that even enemies far away can still ambush us here." Ralan nodded, which elicited further clarification from Django: "That means that you will watch as your enemies approach to kill you, slowly and irrevocably."

"Well let's hope we don't have any enemies."

"We all have enemies," Django replied as he spurred his horse into the river. Ralan followed, and while the crossing took his full attention and a long time, it was not difficult. At the deepest point, the water came to the top of the horse's legs, but while it struggled against the current, it never appeared to be in danger.

The sun was going down as they reached the other side of the river. Ralan waited for Django to lead further, but he sat on his horse and did nothing more than occasionally scan the horizon.

"Are you not going to lead me to the road?" Ralan finally asked.

Django shook his head. "My duty is the South Bank. The road is not far. Just head straight away from the river and keep the Teeth to your right. You'll get there in time to camp for the night."

"Teeth?"

"The mountains. Keep them to your right." Django looked at Ralan's horse. "You don't have a bedroll?"

Ralan shrugged. "I had to leave in a hurry."

"Food?"

"Enough to get by."

Django reached behind and began to untie what Ralan assumed was bedding. As he did, he spoke. "I used to patrol the Great Road. I escorted Guildmaster Pietro on his last trip to Gaotteland." As he mentioned Pietro's name, Django shot a glance at Ralan. He knows I'm a thief. "Of course, I remained hidden. My job was simply to make sure he came to no harm, but the funny thing was that everyone knew it was the safest mission you could be assigned. The Outlanders cleared the road as Pietro approached." Django threw his bedroll to Ralan.

"Jesser told me that the attacks lessened after Pietro's visits."

"Yes. We would always discuss what Pietro did. Some thought him a traitor, but others thought that the Outlanders feared him. All I know is that they not only left him alone, they steered clear of him."

"You saw him often?"

"No. He traveled very rarely. When I escorted him, he hadn't traveled to Gaotteland in many years."

"When was this?"

"Last year." Ralan couldn't believe it. Pietro was ancient. How could he handle a trip to the Outlanders at his age?

"He took a wagon with an escort?"

"Alone. On a horse."

Ralan shook his head. "There will never be another Pietro."

"Never." Without another word, Django tugged on his reins to turn to the river but paused as if reconsidering something. Finally, he turned to Ralan and added, "I believe the Outlanders feared him. I know not why. Be careful, young thief. Captain Jesser told me your mission. The money-counter will be stalked by Outlanders. He is not Pietro, and my belief is that he will be dead by the time you reach him, but, if not, be aware that you will not be the only one shadowing him."

Ralan bowed his head. "Thank you, Django. I will take care and do my best to carry in Guildmaster Pietro's footsteps." Ralan doubted that the Ranger would understand the meaning behind Ralan's words.

With a nod of his head, Django raised his hand, turned, and rode into the river.

Ralan decided to camp immediately, rather than risk being helpless near the road. Django's bedroll was little more than a thick wool blanket, but Ralan was thankful for it as the night had a chill, and the ground was hard. Resting his head on his own cloak, Ralan fell asleep wondering if he would reach Karch the next day.

Two days and nights later, Ralan was sore and thirsty and wondering just how big the world was as he looked out on a stretch of road that reached far to the horizon and had no one on it. It hadn't taken long to reach the road, and, foolishly, Ralan had considered he would be able to see Karch in the distance. While the terrain was flat and the road straight, Ralan couldn't see anything.

Running a hand through his hair, Ralan considered his immediate future. His plan was to sprint to Karch, getting close enough to trail him until the next sundown. Then he was going to sneak into Karch's camp and sabotage things somehow to force him to turn around. Of course, there were major challenges: The ground was flat. How would he be able to trail Karch without being seen? Also, he had no idea how far it was to the Outlanders. Did he even have time to catch Karch unawares?

Not having any other option, Ralan spurred his horse and galloped ahead. He glanced back wondering if one of the Rangers patrolling the Great Road was shadowing him. He couldn't see anyone but assumed someone was there.

He continued to make great time. The road was well-maintained and made of large, irregularly shaped, stone. Ralan couldn't quite believe the road would be paved in stone the entire way to the Outlanders, but he was grateful that it appeared to be just that. Despite, the smooth road, the grueling length of the trip started to take its toll. He hurt all over, and he found his mind wandering as the steady beat of the hooves lulled his attention away from the horizon.

As he looked off to the left, Ralan realized that the mountains, which Django called the Teeth, had turned away and were stretched as far as he could see to the South. As he glanced to the right, he could see the same thing. They stood as an impenetrable barrier behind him, Ness nestled among the foothills.

Turning his attention back to the road, Ralan yanked on his reins. In the far distance, he could clearly see a group on horseback. Concerned they might see him, Ralan moved off the road so that he would at least not be quite so easy to see. It was still a few hours to sunset, so Ralan paced far behind, waiting for an opportunity to sabotage Karch and his escort.

Unfortunately, being off the road meant that Ralan had to struggle with the uneven ground under his horse. He trusted the horse to find the right step, but he didn't quite know how to balance guiding the horse in the right direction with letting it choose its path. The result was an erratic back-and-forth that made progress achingly slow.

As the sun fell, Ralan was further back than he had hoped, but at least it was unlikely that Karch or his escort had seen him. To make things even better, Karch had set up a full camp, with a few tents and a large fire. While the firelight would complicate things, the open nature of the camp made sneaking in much easier.

After securing his horse to a rock, Ralan closed in on the camp. As he approached, the perfect plan revealed itself: Off to the right, the horses were tied to a pole that had been planted into the ground. All Ralan had to do was grab the horses, and Karch would be stranded. The group would have to march back on foot, which would take a very long time. Ralan was certain that it would effectively end the mission.

To Ralan's shock, the horses were unguarded. There was one guard, and he seemed intent on focusing his attention on the direction of the Outlanders and guarding the tents.

Ralan was within fifty yards of the camp when a shadow rose in front of him. "One more step, and you die," a cold flat voice stated.

Squinting, Ralan could barely make out the outline of a man. He was holding a sword. Did I miss a guard? Ralan cursed his own carelessness. His only hope was to explain to Karch's guards that he wasn't a threat. A reasonable story came to him. "I'm a Ranger. I am watching over your camp." Ralan held up his hands, hoping that the dim light would make his black cloak look close enough to brown.

"Another lie and you die," the voice replied. "I am a Ranger, overseeing the safety of those that travel the Road. What is your name and business? You are no Outlander."

A Ranger! He would help Ralan. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ralan stated, "Ah. I apologize, Ranger. I assumed you were a guard for the camp. They are money-counters and on a mission to betray Ness. I am to stop them."

"Your name." The Ranger didn't move.

"Ralan."

"Ralan, it is against the law to accost travelers on the Road. It is my duty to protect them. I could kill you now, but as you haven't done anything yet, you will stay with me until they break camp." Before Ralan could reply, the Ranger added, "You should feel lucky I will let you go."

"I don't think you understand, friend Ranger. I was escorted across the river by Django for this mission. He used to escort travelers on the Road. The Captain of the Foothills, Jesser, helped me, as well. Your own guild sees the importance of my mission."

"Fair enough, Ralan. You have two options then. You can wait until daybreak with me or we can travel to the foothills, and I can confirm your story with Captain Jesser myself. Your choice."

Ralan didn't know if he would have time to ride all the way back to the foothills and get back to Karch before he reached the Outlanders. "How far is Gaotteland from here?"

"If that is their destination, they will arrive there late tomorrow."

Ralan cursed under his breath. He wouldn't have another opportunity to slow them down. "Does it not concern you that their destination is the Outlanders?"

The Ranger shrugged. "They'll die before they get across the drawbridge." Bode and Django had said the same thing, which made Ralan wonder if Karch had some secret way to get past the Outlander guards.

"The Outlanders would not welcome a group representing a Guildmaster of Ness?"

"Only if it were Guildmaster Pietro." Pietro again. Ralan could not believe the influence and hidden power that his predecessor had. All the other guildmasters in Ness considered Pietro a buffoon, but he was clearly the smartest and, most likely, powerful guildmaster not just in Ness but in the whole lands around Ness. "Sit, young man. We shall welcome dawn together, and then you can follow the money-counters and pick over their corpses after the Outlanders get done with them."

"If the Outlanders don't kill me, too," Ralan muttered.

"They won't," the Ranger replied. "You wear the black."