Murrow looked at her sidelong.  “I know that.  How do you?”

     “Look at his horse.”  Her eyes flicked towards it, already shrinking on the horizon.  “That’s not a Logane horse.  Or Elbish.  Valenian, I’d say.” 

     “Well done.  I was looking at his sword-hilt.  The style was unlike any I’ve ever seen from Elbany or Logan.”  He smiled.  “There was no also no messenger from Logan in Garland when I was there, and none passed us on the road.” 

     They stood silent for a full minute, watching the galloping rider disappear.  The dust was nearly settled before Murrow spoke again. 

     “Something’s wrong.”

     Elsbeth snorted.  “Obviously.” 

     He looked stung.  “I meant, something’s wrong — that we have to do something about.”

     “Ah.”  She paused.  “I’m sorry, my lord, but that also seems obvious.  That man is in Elbany, riding hell-bent for the pass, and lying about who he is.  Of course we have to follow him.” 

     “Follow him?  We’re going that way anyway.  To the pass.” 

     “Yes.”  Elsbeth was annoyed but kept it from her face.  “But we need to go more subtly — and faster — than we might have otherwise.  Lord Garland will want to know about him — and even more, what he’s doing.” 

     “Agreed.”  His heels were already at his horse’s sides.  “Not too fast, though.  We want to keep him, or at least the dust of his passage, in sight, but we don’t want him to suspect our interest in him.”    

     They rode now at a steady pace, not galloping and then walking, but a continuous canter.  Elsbeth worried at first how the horses might respond to the lack of rest, but the mare stretched her neck, clearly enjoying the exercise.  Murrow’s gelding flicked his ears and lengthened his stride, as if the mare had challenged him.  Elsbeth had never been on a long, fast ride before and for a while, the new thrill of it distracted her from its purpose.  But the stirred, often still-moving dust from the earlier rider brought her mind back to the problem, and she wondered, with growing anxiety, what was going on.  Elbany had been attacked by its neighbors before.  Otto Tyrannus burned in Elbish memory, reminding them that Valenians often saw the mountains of the northern border as a challenge worth daring. 

     And perhaps it was the challenge that kept drawing the Valenian kingdoms back.  Elbany was not a rich land — many of the kingdoms of Valenna were wealthier, better landed, even warmer.  But no one from the north had ever conquered Elbany, and many had tried. 

     The supposed messenger, Elsbeth thought, might well be the first trickle of a coming flood. 

     By dusk, the mountains, which had been rising before them since the previous morning, were full grown.  It was early May, and the nights were cool still — they would be, well into June — but it was markedly cooler in the shadow of the mountains than it had been the evening before.    

     “If he left the road, there’s been no sign of it.”  Murrow slowed his horse.  “I think one part of what he said was true — he was heading for the pass.”  He nudged his horse into the grass.  “We should stop here.  Whatever’s wrong, we’ll want to come upon it in the daylight.”