They left Pinehook under a pale morning sky. Yan carried the regulator list inside his coat, and Wei had the verified order in a waterproof case. Qinghe rode beside Yan, with her medical supplies strapped behind her saddle. Two guards and the courier followed. Bai’s wagons were still at Pinehook, preparing to take the inland ford after the smaller party.
At the first staffed shelter, a farmhouse beside the road, the keeper checked their names against the travel card. He had room for the four travelers and their horses, but only a small store of grain. Wei signed the guest ledger. Qinghe asked where the sick could rest if the next shelter became crowded.
“The ferry yard can receive patients,” the keeper said. “They have a healer, but the carts wait until the crossing is clear.”
Qinghe added the detail to her notebook. The capital road was more than a line on Han’s map. Each stop had its own limits, and they would need to know them before a storm forced a change.
They rode again after a quick meal. The inland ford ran high from overnight rain, but its markers remained visible. Pell’s guide waited at the near bank and walked them across one at a time. Yan dismounted to lead his horse through the strongest current. Qinghe stayed behind him, giving the courier space to follow.
