the young man said. He spoke quietly to the horse and then slid from the animal's back, keeping a hand on the reins. "Furies, ma'am, but we didn't think we'd see you again. Are you all right?"
The other rider slid down, and Isana recognized Steadholder Roth from the pale white shock of hair drifting around his head. He stepped to her at once and embraced her. "Thank goodness, Isana. We feared the worst."
She leaned against the old Steadholder, suddenly feeling the exhaustion in her arms and legs, and had to have Rill's help to keep the tears from her eyes. "I'm all right. It was a near thing, but I'm all right."
"Who is this?" Roth asked, looking up past Isana to squint at where Odi-ana sat beside the road, looking at nothing, her expression listless.
"It's a long story. I'll take care of her. But what are you doing out here?"
"Outriding," Roth said and turned to nod back down the road.
From down the causeway came the drum of more hooves, the rattle of cart wheels strained by the pace. Isana watched as more horses, some pulling heavy farm carts, others bearing riders, came down the road toward them. Frederic let out a sharp whistle and waved his arms, and the carts began to slow to a halt as they approached.
"But what are you doing?" Isana demanded.
Roth's expression looked very tired in the dimness. "Isana. The Marat got into the Valley yesterday. Sometime last night. They attacked Aldoholt and burned it down. As far as we can tell, no one made it out."
Isana took a deep breath, shocked. She felt dizzy. "Everyone?"
Roth nodded. "We saw the fires at dawn, and Warner and his boys went to check it out. He sent them out to warn Garrison and to Riva. The two heading for Garrison were murdered. We found them cut up not two miles back. We don't know about the others."
"Oh no," Isana breathed. "Oh, furies, poor Warner."
"Then, tonight, Frederic here was out in the fields working."
Frederic nodded. "That big rock. I didn't get it before the storm, and I couldn't sleep and all, so I was back there tonight, Mistress Isana. And these two men just fell out of the sky."
"Out of the sky? Knights Aeris?"
"Yes, ma'am. And one of them was all in black, and one was in Rivan colors ma'am, and hurt, so I hit the other one on the head with my shovel." His voice had an anxious note to it, as though he wasn't sure he'd done correctly. "That wasn't wrong, was it?"
"Course not, boy," Roth snorted. "He was a messenger from Garrison, Isana, sending to Riva for reinforcements. Said a Marat horde was on its way. And someone wanted him dead pretty bad. He had an arrow in him,
and they'd sent a Knight to chase him to ground. Frederic here put a dent in the murderer's noggin that won't come out for a while, or we'd have asked who sent him."
Frederic ducked his head.
The wagons halted, and a moment later Otto and Warner had both hurried up to them and each hugged Isana, Otto with warm relief, Warner with stiff, quiet determination.
"So you're heading to Garrison?" Isana asked them.
Warner nodded. "We sent messengers to Riva, through the woods, where anyone watching from the air wouldn't be able to follow them. But it will take them longer than by the air or the roads, so we're heading out to fill in the gap ourselves."
Isana looked back at the wagons, at the people filling them. "Great furies, Warner. You must have brought half of your holders."
"A bit more," Otto said, anxious. He wrung his hands. "Everyone able or who can do some useful crafting, Isana."
"These people aren't soldiers," Isana protested.
"No," Warner said, quietly. "But all the men have done their time in the Legions. Isana, if Garrison falls, there's nothing that's going to stop a horde from doing what it did to Aldoholt to every steadholt between here and Riva. Better for us to give our help and it not be needed than the other way around."
"What about the children?"
"Some of the older ones led the youngers into the back country. Beggar's Cave and such places. They'll be safer there than in the steadholts, until this blows over."
Isana blew out a breath. "What about Tavi? My brother? Has anyone seen them?"
No one said anything, until Frederic rubbed at his hair and said, "I'm sorry, Mistress. No one's seen or heard from anyone that ran out the night of