The codes have changed since I was a young woman in the army, but the great beasts have not: inevitably, one of them becomes distracted by some passing breeze, its rider has to rein it in, and I take the chance to run for the low, rocky hill I see in the distance. I catch my breath. Two months on this pilgrimage, doing what penance I can, and I've been hunted like a dog every step of the way. I served the young king's mother faithfully, I think--why has he sworn vengeance on me?