Chapter 8
Near noon we pause for lunch. Del Lasmar’s dome glints in the weak sunlight behind us and ahead, other travelers, widely spaced and clustered in loose groups, are dark dots on a narrowing line engulfed by endless rows of gray shrubs stretching to the horizon.
All but one of our caravan’s barrows are empty. The full barrow contains materials for a makeshift tent, as well as food and water.
The road here is wide enough that we can set it up without obstructing the other travelers. Bates’ squad has been shadowing us all morning, far enough behind to not be suspicious. As the workers set up the tent, the soldiers pass us, then pause farther down the road for their own meal, wrapping their flag around like they did when I first encountered Bates.
Gandor’s tent is much higher class
