From the southern road, Grey Rest looked like a low ridge with an uneven line of trees.
Then Iven saw the shape of the plates beneath the soil.
He slowed.
The old Marcher lay across the shallow valley, its body changed by weather into a part of the land people gave directions around. Growth filled the spaces between its armored ridges. One long supporting limb had become a wooded slope. Water ran through a hollow where living tissue had once carried it somewhere with a purpose of its own.
The road climbed along the upper side, clear of the broken lower chambers.
Remet stopped at the first marked post.
“Stay on the maintained surface. The old shell’s sound where the road crew keeps it sound. Elsewhere, don’t guess.”
Brin took the arrival bearing while Asa stood beside Iven and looked.
