Bellcut’s first answer waited at the Gate before dawn.
The village had received the public dispatch the previous evening, after eighteen kilometers of ordinary road. Its keeper had sent back the invitation with a carrier who was already traveling west. Four people could come to examine the store and speak to the households. They could bring personal tools. They could leave their banners at home.
Iven read the last line twice, then handed it to Tavin.
“I don’t own a banner.”
“Excellent preparation.”
They left after breakfast with Neri and Kesh. Dreni rode the first part on a farmer’s empty cart, then walked beside them when the road became too steep for comfortable conversation. The proposed food convoy would carry more than she had personally purchased. That did not make her knowledge of its buyers or of her aunt’s dry room less important.
Yara sent a sealed route note and no soldiers with them. The village had not invited her guard.
For the first two hours, the road followed the river beneath the higher shelves. The Gate’s cliff works diminished behind them into pale interruptions on dark stone. Ahead, the valley opened around a long bend. Water flashed between low orchard terraces, and white birds stood in the irrigated strips as if someone had planted them at equal intervals.
