Darkness overtook us before we found a monastery, and Khad didn't want to risk riding the horses at night lest a wrong step result in a fatal broken leg. Thunder roared overhead and lightning hindered the acclimatisation of our eyes to the dim light.

The storm neared.

Timoth ordered the carriage’s wheels immobilised with rocks. He had it wheeled against the side of a small bushy hill, in the hope that putting the slope and the foilage between us and the wind would partially shelter us from the rain.

In the time before the clouds broke and the rain fell, Khad nurtured small campfire while his men collected wood. Timoth supervised the unpacking of fur blankets and cloth hoochies that had been packed in the carriage. Father had not seen fit to supply me with a proper tent, and all we had for shelter was the soldier's hoochies, supplemented by fur rugs and blankets for warmth. Timoth had Daegwin tenuously link them together with cloth stitches, and suspended one edge of the vast fur sheet against the carriage. The other he sat on the ground, placing heavy stones atop its edge to keep it taut. There looked to be enough room for all of us under it, if we lay close together, but Khad had other ideas.

'The horses must enjoy the shelter. We merely sit atop them, they must be strong enough to carry us to our destination.'

I shook my head. 'The horses are too big, not even half can fit. And they are too tall, much space near the bottom of the sheet and under the carriage will be wasted.'

'We could raise the sheet on sticks to keep it level with the ground,' Timoth suggested as a solution for my second problem, but he had none to offer for my first. 'But Saemara is right, there isn’t enough room for twenty-two horses. Twelve perhaps, maybe fourteen or fifteen with the sticks.'

Khad shook his head. 'My men will never sleep under shelter while their horses suffer the rain. Our steeds are our life, Count. They are more important than our swords or our pride. Perhaps even our health. They are not used to the wetness of your land: they were bred to survive the desert. They will suffer in this storm.'

I considered using portals for shelter. Anyone could enter a portal as long as they made physical contact with the portal’s owner during the journey through the portal.

Unfortunately, it was unlikely that anyone in the party could summon portals other than Khad, Timoth, and Wargwa. It required a level of education that surpassed common soldiers, and most portal realms were not more than a few metres in each direction. Certainly not big enough to accommodate a meaningful number of men or horses.

'And what of our horses?' Timoth asked. 'There are thirteen of you; there will be no room for the steeds of the Reach.'

'Your horses are accustomed to the rain,' Khad replied. 'Surely the Countess' radiance will keep those of the Reach warm through the night.'

I wondered if his words bore a different meaning in his land. It did not matter, as Khad's stubbornness had been grating on my brother, who had now surpassed the limits of his tolerance.

'Count Djiron, I do not think that we can camp together this night. We were to travel to Trackford together, but I think it is best that we part now. The carriage and the furs belong to my father, and my sister's father. You travelled here in their absence, and I trust you capable of returning in the same manner.'

'I came on an errand of friendship,' Khad began, but Timoth would have none of it.

'You would best be back on the road if you wish to reach shelter before the storm hits,' he advised.

'I will allow you to reconsider,' Khad said, but Timoth shook his head.

I was impressed at my brother's determination. He had made his decision and he was sticking with it.

'I decline.’

Khad looked him in the eye, challenging him to back down, but Timoth simply returned his gaze. I hoped that it would not come to a fight, as there were vastly more Borderlands soldiers than Ebonreach escorts.

Thankfully, Khad was the first to turn away. He grunted in anger most unattractively, and called out to his men in his own tongue. The words were harsh and full of consonants. The soldiers immediately stood up from the campfire and returned to their horses, packing half-eaten bread into their saddlebags and mounting up. Khad straddled his black stallion and spoke only to me before his departure.

'I know you spoke a mistruth, yet I chose to submit. It has not earned me any grace among your family. You can be certain that word of your forked tongue will reach Hollowhold long before you do,' he said.

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My jaw fell agape at his revelation and his vitriol, but I held my ground. I feared he would spit at me, but he was a nobleman and words were his weapon that night.

His men departed, and as they trod the road they fell out of the illumination of the campfire. Only nine of us remained. There would be room for the horses and their passengers beneath the carriage and the fur sheet if the beasts were sufficiently calmed. I didn’t fancy waking to a horse's kick.

The morning was wet and dreary. I had to wake Daegwin so that I could roll out from under the carriage, and our blanket was soaked and brown. I held it to the rain to wash away the mud, but it’d take more than that to clean it properly.

I stowed it back in the carriage with furs that Timoth disconnected from the canopy. He’d slept under the canopy with the men rather than retreating into his portal. If I’d been a capable portalmancer, I certainly would have made a different decision.

The horses were uncooperative from spending the night so immobilised, but there was little else to do but calm them as best we could and lead them back onto the path. I rode at the head of the caravan with my brother. Daegwin and Wargwa were directly behind us, and Father's men flanked the carriage further back.

The day passed slowly and uneventfully. The skies started to clear in the afternoon. Timoth sought Wargwa's counsel regarding the distance to Trackford, and was advised that we shouldn’t press our luck and try to reach it today. There had been too many delays already, he said. I was grateful that Timoth accepted his advice: I didn’t want to run into Khad at Trackford, and he’d probably reach it tonight without us slowing his party down.

We camped at the side of the road again, though this time we needed no canopy. Daegwin unstitched the bonds between the blankets, and Timoth and his men assembled firewood, sitting rocks, and logs.

This time, Timoth assigned our guards to sentry duty.

'We near the edge of trustworthy Reach country,' he explained, 'and there is no weather to deter bandits.'

The five soldiers – for the carriage master was also a man-at-arms – and Timoth were assigned two hour shifts. This meant that we left two hours after dawn, to allow each man enough time for a proper rest.

We reached a bundle of dispersed wooden homes around lunchtime, and Wargwa indicated that they represented the outer limits of Trackford. Timoth resolved to spend the night in the town and led us deeper into its heart.

The first thing I noticed was that it was protected by no castle and no walls. A thin wooden palisade faced the river but the landward approaches were undefended. No stone towers or keeps kept watch over the land, though there were several timber buildings of three or four storeys.

'Banks, brothels, and taverns,' Wargwa explained when he saw me looking at them.

The road was gravel almost the entire way to the market square, in stark contrast to Haelling Cove's ancient cobblestone streets. The square itself was ringed by row upon row of wooden stalls bearing fresh fruits, valuable jewellery, arms and armour, and so on. Anything I could think of to sell, I could see in the markets.

The stalls were usually manned by a merchant and a servant, though some of the larger stalls were attended to by a number of servants. Droves of commoners were crammed in front of them, vying for the attention of the merchants.

I gathered that Father had sent a messenger ahead of us, probably the day before we’d left, as we were greeted by a rotund man with a thick gold necklace draped around his neck. He was balding, though several wiry strands of hair were brushed forward in a desperate facade of youth. He approached Timoth and I, flanked by a single bodyguard.

'Count, Countess,' he greeted us, 'I bid you welcome to my city.'

'Thank you, Baron Steib,' Timoth said. I wondered if he used the man's name for my benefit, knowing that I’d failed to study the appropriate records. Timoth continued, 'we seek lodgings for tonight. We will set out again at dawn.'

'They have already been arranged,' Steib responded. 'Your father's messenger arrived two days ago giving us notice of your arrival.'

'Did Count Djiron and his men pass through here yesterday?' I asked. From Steib and Timoth's reactions I wondered if I had asked an impertinent question.

'They arrived in the evening, and left this morning,' the baron informed me. 'They did not pay for their lodgings as I was promised.'

Timoth sighed. 'Worry not, my father's purse will cover the lodgings of the Borderlands men as well as those of my companions.'

Steib sighed also, but his was of relief rather than disappointment. I wondered if some burgher or innkeeper had harrassed him to pay Khad's debt.

'Your father is most gracious, Count,' he thanked us. 'Lodgings for your party have been arranged at The Flea Monkey Tavern.' He pointed at a tavern with a wooden sign hanging from the rafters. It was a long building, and two storeys as well, but my brother sighed at its appearance.

'I travel with a lady,' he said, cocking his head at me. I wondered if he was feeling overprotective of me because of my story about the soldier speaking lewdly of me.

'Lord,' Steib began. 'This is no castle town. This is a merchant city. There are no royal chambers. The Flea Monkey offers the best quality rooms in Trackford, I assure you.'

'Then they will be acceptable,' I chimed in, fearful that Timoth was creating a fuss on my behalf. He nodded his acceptance, and a cheery grin spread across Steib's face.

'I hope to see you two back here, at the market square, in the evening,' Steib said as we began to turn our horses away from him.

'Is there some event you wish us to attend?' I asked, not as politely as I'd hoped.

'Of course, my lady. It is the Trackford Founding Festival this evening. There will be music and dancing and drinking. All perfectly civilised, of course,' he added, almost as an afterthought.

'We are honoured to be present for such an occasion,' Timoth said, sensing my reluctance. I nodded my acceptance, and then turned Lilac away from the man. His genial outlook and well-fed appearance sent chills down my spine for some reason. Perhaps it was simply because he was wealthy despite his obviously low breeding. I briefly considered asking Father to replace him before I had to return through Trackford.