Chapter seven
In the Camp of the Iron RidersLumpy carried me jogging across Aduimbrev and over the Therduim Cut and so into Sakwara. I’d called this shaggy old gray benhoff Lumpy out of a mixture of disreputable feelings; but, truth to tell, he wasn’t all that bad. It is difficult to feel at odds with a faithful saddle-animal for very long.
Seeing the kovneva and her party safely into Thiurdsmot, I had refused the offer of a flying mount from the Hamalian aerial cavalry squadron. They acted under the orders of Marta Renberg. People in Vallia were becoming more and more used to flying cavalry, great birds of the air being used as saddle flyers; but I refused the offer of a fluttrell since I considered that would attract more attention than a benhoff, attention I wished to avoid. I had ins
