After another hour or so, 'he spotted yet one more patrol, this one,unusually, in a field rather than going down a road. He and Turul stood downwind of the pens of thedragon farm. My adjutant here, Captain Mosco, has the good fortuneto be a marquis. She studied him before answering, her blue eyes hooded.
Forthweg hadn't known famineduring her lifetime, but she'd read of it. The Algarvians hadharvested these fields before their soldiers retreated through them, andthe low stubble left behind offered little concealment for a prone man, letalone one up and walking. She was stilltoweling her hair dry when she sent down a breakfast order. There had been times - more than a few of them - when she wishedhe would go away and leave her alone and not bother her again.