Roland asked.Everyone nodded. Even Lucky.It was about an hour before dawn. After a chilly, uncomfortable night without a fire, enduring the smell of rotting bodies carried sharply to them by a wind from the southeast, Roland had brought his sixteen companions to a cut in the canyon wall north of the overlook where they’d first seen the army encampment.He’d found the old streambed, scouting during the night, following the canyon north. It cut through the wall of the canyon, but the stream was seasonal, and it was dry now. They’d have to watch out for crabworms or scythids in a streambed, but it was a straight line to Gynella’s soldiers. Beyond the streambed, the ground rose and merged with the side of a butte. There was no getting past that butte to the north—not without going a long way around it. This was as far north as they could go. With luck it would be enough to misdirect the Gynellan commanders.Roland climbed up into the cab of the truck, getting behind the wheel. Mordecai was waiting in the passenger seat, his hands clasping the barrel of a big Hyperion auto shotgun, its butt propped on the floor between his boots.
