“Some straight-as-an-arrow lady by the name of Granvill or something. Got her a lieutenant named Coltan, and forty men. Harrying the province, they are. Arresting every deserter in sight, but that’s not what they’re really after. Word is they’re really looking for a brownie in a monk’s robe and an ugly-as-sin, scarfaced, good-for-nothing, rank-as-a-billy-goat, little greenie. You know anyone like that?”
“No…” Chekwe started to protest, but Quarla cut him off.
“These ain’t none of them cast-off Imperials from up by Fourhen, neither. These are honest-to-Quam cavalry veterans. Salty as they come. Squad of four of ‘em came up this way, and some of the boys decided to make ‘em disappear in the jungle. A dozen or more good, tough, men went after them with spears and clubs and cane knives. A co
