Two days from Roadbreak Arthur came to understand the peculiar name of the town. They were on the highway running west to east, from Keen to Erkateren, and only splotches of gravel told him someone did care for the road at all. There was dust everywhere, and he began longing for rain even if Harbend had warned him that rain was what would turn the road into a muddy quagmire. At the moment Arthur didn't care. The dust crawled into his eyes, ears, nose and mouth, and every time he took off his jacket a cloud of the ever present dirt enveloped him in an instant.

They'd bought the beasts of burden they needed at farms the girl led Harbend to, even though most of them turned out to be oxen. It mattered little. As draft animals they were stronger than horses, and with a wagon train speed wasn't important. Especially on a road like this where they only managed to cover half the distance each day compared to back in Keen.

A caravan, and by now it looked like one. Almost forty wagons in total and over a hundred horses, mules and oxen unaccounted for. Two grooms and two cooks hired in Roadbreak as well as a carpenter. With drivers and escort they were well over a hundred men and women traveling on the road. All the animals and humans in one place, always moving, made a noise Arthur wouldn't have believed possible outside of a city.

He wasn't surprised when people came out from their farmhouses to watch the strange train passing by. Some even approached them asking for news from Keen and that usually resulted in a little bit of trade and the caravan swelled with livestock in exchange for cider and clothes made in Verd.

#

Trindai wiped grime from his forehead. He preferred riding with the vanguard, but responsible for the escort as a whole he couldn't indulge in spending all of the day scouting ahead in friendly territory. Each mission was different and knowing how people acted and reacted was key to its outcome.

He smiled as Major Terwin returned with his scouts.

"News?"

"Dust and bumps."

"Sounds exciting. Get some food and rest. Rearguard next. Tell them to catch up with us and water their horses!"

"Sir!"

Trindai watched as Kalvar Terwin led his group to a nearby farm. They'd water their horses there while waiting for the rearguard to arrive.

Peaceful this far at least. Luckily enough the greedy merchant and the oversized outworlder both turned out to be decent horsemen. Better yet, neither of them complained. A far cry from the horrid mission when he'd escorted a bunch of fat merchants from Dagd to Vratistak. One of Madame de Felder's less successful assignments. One squadron babysitting lazy idiots never tired enough to cease complaining while at the same time collecting taxes long overdue from the client states they passed through.

He shivered. Collecting them hadn't been half as bad as returning the coffers safely back to Verd.

Well, eightdays yet before he'd have anything real to worry about. Major Berdaler was the one with the problems this time. With the orders Trindai sent was a letter of debt covering the costs for mustering enough soldiers to swell the escort in Ri Khi. The Minister of Commerce had added another letter confirming that the caravan was an official De Vhatic trading mission.

Trindai wondered how much weight it would carry in Ri Khi. Enough to attract a significant number of traders? Enough with the message about Lord Garak leading the caravan? A half-truth, nothing more. Harbend de Garak was a titled house, and as such a lord of sorts. Ramdar Garak was a full duke of Khi, the kind of lord people from Khi, or Ri Khi for that matter, would follow into a war zone.

Wiping more grime from his face Trindai rode on. Next rotation he'd be part of the vanguard and he planned to change clothes before his respite from the dust.

#

To Arthur the weeks took on a monotonous routine. Waking at daybreak to the sound of metal clanking at the cooking wagon, then eating porridge, saddling a horse and away checking the road while the wagons were made ready. After that an entire day covered in dust, with only a short break for the midday meal, before it was time to make camp again. Riding with the vanguard was the only way to keep the worst of the dust away. Riding with the vanguard, unfortunately, also required him to don some pieces of leather armor which turned out to be heavier than he suspected, and a lot warmer.

To his dismay he quickly learned that his attempts to communicate with anyone but Harbend still failed because of his inability to properly use De Vhatic. Words, he desperately hungered for new words. It wasn't as if he disliked Harbend's company, not at all, but he wanted to be part of the caravan as well.

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The feeling of not belonging was strongest during the evenings, especially the evening following bathing day, the last of each eightday, when the caravan stood still and people spent the time making small repairs and washing their clothes. That day closed early, and great bonfires were laid in preparation for the coming feast. The evening meal one worth the name rather than cold leftovers or trail rations. A cow or some sheep were slaughtered and they all ate and drank until long after dark.

One of the guards had a knack for storytelling, and Arthur was shut out from the happy laughter unable to understand more than occasional words. That hurt, hurt almost as much as his nightmares, but he forced himself to learn more despite the small voice telling him to give up.

One morning Arthur tried to make notes on what he had caught of De Vhatic the previous day, and as always jotting down words on his notepad turned out difficult as he was riding. He'd thought of using a microphone rather than a pen, but that would cut down the lifespan of his power cells to less than half, and he didn't know if he could ever get new ones.

He was interrupted by the unfamiliar feeling of water on his face. Not a downpour but rather a steady drizzle, and Arthur was grateful when the ever present dust slowly settled.

#

Harbend swore as more and more wagons got mired. It was one of the hazards with a caravan he'd only heard about but never seen. A few wagons would never have been caught this way, and only the trailing wagons got into problems as the road softened. It took days of rain for a single wagon to get stuck.

He ordered their reserve horses and all oxen to be added to the last wagons in an attempt to keep up speed. Now he could only hope the rain wouldn't get much worse, or they'd start losing yet more time.

Turning his horse he rode along the caravan until he met Arthur and the escort captain, a silent man named Trindai Laiden who, with Vildir's approval, had picked the men to be in the escort.

"Arthur, how is the road further on?"

Arthur growled in response and Trindai answered instead.

"Road's impassable, M'lord. Creek turned river, but we can ford it if we follow a game trail Lord Wallman found. I guess it must have rained more further east."

Harbend looked at Arthur. Gods! He wasn't just wet from rain. The man must have fallen into the water, which would explain his less than cordial greeting earlier.

Hold there! I asked my question in De Vhatic, but he must have understood it anyway.

A marvel of a man, a very wet marvel at that. Harbend laughed and the captain shared his mirth, even if in a more silent manner.

"Well, Arthur," he said, in English this time, "I see that you keep to your high standards of hygiene."

"You be silent or you'll bloody share it when we pass that river," came the sullen response.

"Now, now, do not start complaining. You wished for a change in weather. You have it. I shall call it a fair trade."

Arthur started grumbling again but was cut short by the sound of rustling wings when a large bird of prey passed over them and struck an animal no more than fifty paces away.

"What was that?"

Harbend glanced after the bird struggling with its prey. "An eagle. They are rather rare."

"That's no eagle. Maybe not even a bird."

"It is an eagle. One of you outworlders taught me the word less than a year ago when we saw a bird like this circling over Verd."

"But, Harbend, it's got teeth and four legs! That's a lizard's head, not a beak."

Harbend stared at his partner. Strange reaction from a man who supposedly had seen most of his own world. "So, some birds have beaks and some do not."

Arthur didn't answer. He just kept on staring while the eagle devoured its prey.