She had best, she knew, for the mirror had revealed that the Sturinnese lancers from the north were no more than three days’ ride away. “Richina…I’ll be back in a few moments. I need to talk to Elfens. Then we need to talk.” “Yes, lady.” Richina’s voice was polite, but abstracted, as she glanced toward the east end of the camp. “He’s all right. He’s just worried.” “Who?” Richina flushed, adding quickly, “His lancers weren’t attacked, were they?” “No. Like all of us, he’s worried about the battle that will have to come,” Secca said, before walking toward the higher end of the camp area. Quietly, Achar followed her. Secca could only hope that Richina would see Haddev for what he was before the younger sorceress did something truly foolish. Secca found the chief archer on the west side of the camp, working with a pot of glue, refletching some arrows on a flat stone. “Lady…if you would wait but a moment…” “Go ahead.” Secca smiled faintly.
