At the northern feeder, the road on Nael’s map ended in water.
Not deep water. Iven could see the pale stones beneath it and the old wheel ruts curving toward the opposite bank. A loaded cart might cross with preparation. An army officer studying only the line on the page would find nothing unreasonable in wanting to use it.
Then the bank lifted its head.
What Iven had taken for a ridge of wet stone moved against the morning light. A broad native body lay in the shallow hollow beyond the crossing, its lower surface buried in warm mud. Two smaller shapes rested beneath the shelter of its long curved flank. A third was awake, pushing its head through the reeds with a patience that made each movement look considered.
Korin stopped at the marked stone.
“This is far enough until we have an answer.”
The local interpreter had walked the ten kilometers from the Gate with Pera, Iven, Ferren and two paid guides. They carried food for the day, lamps and the equipment needed to examine the old channel. Their report could not be made by looking at one map beside a comfortable table.
Pera set her resonator on the firm ground. She did not begin with a demand to explain the valley to her.
