‘We go over the mountains,’ she said. ‘The dying man of Turla is waiting.’ The others exchanged a look. When the cold Quintana spoke, there was an uneasiness in them all, even Lirah who knew her best. ‘I say we choose another time for that, Your Highness,’ Gargarin said in a firm, but polite voice. ‘It will add at least a few days’ ride to our journey if we take the mountains to Paladozza and not the underground pass.’ ‘There will be no other time,’ she said dismissively, looking at Arjuro. ‘Are you ready, Priestling? I have a sense that the gods are leading us there for a reason.’ She walked away towards the three horses they had been given, and Froi knew the decision was final. ‘I like it better when I’m blessed Arjuro,’ Arjuro muttered. With great patience, Gargarin put away the map he had studied all night. ‘Let’s all agree that we’re going to try to get out of Turla with no marriage contracts, no broken bones and no body parts sacrificed to the gods,’ he said.
