wore. 'But at least I got your plans, you bastard.'
Something glinted in a corner. It was one of the Bel Zheret's long serrated knives. Its owner wouldn't miss it, so Ironfoot took it and put it in his belt.
They mounted without speaking and rode away, to the south, toward the Seelie Lands.
Elenth was one of only three Unseelie cities on the ground. There were few places in Mab's territory that would support permanent structures, and even those in Elenth were squat and sturdily built against the quakes in the nearby mountains. To the south of the city they rode up the side of the valley and found themselves in a thick forest.
'If we keep heading this direction, we'll hit the border tomorrow evening,' Ironfoot said. 'Of course, I have no idea what we'll run into along the way, since that was Virum's job.'
Sela said nothing, only nodded glumly. She would be worse than useless if there was more fighting.
The wood stretched on for miles and miles, relatively flat and not particularly thick. The going wasn't easy, but they were able to maintain a steady walk throughout.
Near the end of the first day, Ironfoot looked ahead and saw a break in the trees ahead. A road? Something was moving past, something huge. He waved for Sela to stop her horse and listened. A regular rhythm. Soldiers on the march.
Ironfoot dismounted and waved for Sela to remain where she was. She didn't respond. He looped his reins over a nearby branch and crept toward the road, using all the skills of silence that Jedron had taught him, which were enhanced by his changed body. He reached the edge of the road and crouched carefully, watching.
Company upon company of soldiers, grizzled veterans and fresh recruits alike, were moving toward the southwest. Toward Wamarnest, the city closest to the Seelie border, where cavalry had been drilling for months.
War was coming, and soon.
But there was a more immediate problem. The few border crossings would now be more closely guarded than ever. The Border Wall stretched across most of the length of the border; it had been created during a long-ago treaty, and maintained by both sides ever since. It was composed of interlocking bindings, one Seelie, one Unseelie, and was impossible to cross from either side. Presumably Virum had known of a secret crossing, one of the spots where the resonance from Shifting Places of the nearby Contested Lands created soft spots in the Border Wall. These were all guarded, but from time to time new ones cropped up. The problem was that Ironfoot had no idea where Virum's soft spot was located.
Once the column of soldiers had passed, he returned to Sela and they continued, hurrying across the road and back into the forest. That night they camped without a fire, eating berries and nuts and the last of the stale bread they'd taken from the villa.
The next morning they continued their ride. They must have made good time, because the sun was still well above the western horizon when they ran into the Border Wall. Ironfoot dismounted and examined it. It was merely a low stone wall, nothing particularly imposing, though runes were scattered across its surface. He put his hand out to reach across, and met with resistance. He pushed his hand farther and the resistance grew stronger. A little farther and the resistance became physically painful. He quickly withdrew. There would be no crossing here.
They followed the Border Wall to the southwest, where hopefully he could find a border crossing that wasn't too crowded. He had no idea what he'd do when he found one, but there wasn't much of a choice. Every step they took to the southwest, though, took them closer to the remains of Selafae, and Sylvan beyond.
Near sunset, they came upon a group of soldiers stationed along a length of the wall. Not particularly attentive soldiers, since they had yet to notice the two riders approaching them, and not a true crossing, simply a soft place. That was a lucky break. Ironfoot counted ten soldiers, however, and that was less lucky.
Nothing to do but try to talk their way through.
'Sela,' he said in a low voice. 'I need your Empathy here. We're going to have to talk our way through these men.'
'I don't know,' said Sela. 'It hurts so badly.' She clutched her arm, where red welts from the touch of the uncovered band had burned her skin.
'You're going to have to try, dammit!' said Ironfoot. 'You're a Shadow, Sela. You have a job to do.'
'I know.'
'Then wake up and do what needs to be done.'
She looked at him, angrily at first; then her expression hardened. 'You're right,' she said. 'I will be what I was made to be.'
Ironfoot wasn't sure what she meant by that, but if it brought her back
