Mara’s old friend arrived with a cart full of empty cartridge shells and an argument prepared before anyone asked him a question.
“Rovan drains the whole eastern Reach,” he announced.
“Good morning, Dov,” Mara said. “How much did you see?”
Dov climbed down from the cart. He was a broad man with a red scarf and a face made for expressing disappointment. “Enough.”
“That’s not a quantity.”
“I saw three outposts.”
“Did you enter them?”
“No.”
