You're a dead man, Arratay," Jerrel said through clenched teeth. Halt smiled. "That's been said before. Yet here I am.

Don't concentrate on the obvious. They might want you to miss something else.

You spoil your horse, Halt said. Will glanced at him. You spoil yours. Halt considered the thought, then nodded. That's true.

In a month, the passes into Teutlandt and Skanida will be open and my companion and I will be on our way." He paused and Philemon frowned, trying to understand what he was being told. You want us to come with you?" he asked, at last. "You expect us to follow you?" Halt shook his head. "I have no wish to ever see any of you again," he said flatly.

What about you three, where are you going?" Even before Halt answered, Will knew what he was going to say. But that didn't make it any less terrifying or blood-chilling when the words were said. "We're going after the Kalkara.

Failure is just a few seconds away from success.

It was safe to assume that the rider would be carrying a weapon of some kind. After all, there was no point in wearing half armor and going weaponless.