the

rain."
"True. I'd be glad to be moving, myself—the Duke needs to know." Canna looked around. "Let me think. The road was off to our right, and we were headed that way—I remember that holly tree. I think we should go this way—" she pointed. "Do you agree, Paks?"
"Yes." Paks rose, and the others followed her.
Sopping undergrowth slapped against their legs; they were soon much wetter, though warmer for the walking. Rain fell out of the sky with quiet intensity: never hard enough to force a halt, but never stopping. Paks thought of her first long march, the wet days on the road south of Vérella. She glanced at Saben, wondering if he remembered; his face was thoughtful and remote.
After some time, they saw that the ground was rising in a rocky hummock. They paused to consider which way to take. Paks was not tempted to suggest a trip to the top of it.
"If we bear right," said Canna, "we'll come to the road sooner, but closer to the column. If we bear left, we could swing too far from the road."
"Let's toss," said asa