He’d expected to feel scared, horrified or revolted, as though he was getting ready to meet an embassy of goblins. Maybe I don’t scare so easily these days, he thought; but he knew he was missing the point. “Well,” he said, “we’d better not keep them waiting.” He nudged his horse forward; it started to move, its head still down, its mouth full of fat green spring grass. It was a singularly graceless, slovenly animal, but it had a wonderful turn of speed. “I’ve never met one before, what are they like?” Young Gabbaeus on his left, trying to look calm; Valens noticed that he was wearing a heavy wool cloak over his armor, and the sleeves of a double-weight gambeson poked out from under the steel vambraces on his forearms. Curious, since Gabbaeus had always insisted he despised the heat; then Valens realized he’d dressed up extra warm to make sure he wouldn’t shiver. “I don’t know,”
