7
The train car window gave Tommy a view of endless fields under an overcast sky. Now and then, he spotted a tree or an outcropping of rock, but it was mostly just yellow grass as far as the eye could see. Winter was finally releasing its grip on this land. Maybe the snows will have melted when they reached New Beloran. He certainly hoped so. A winter of drizzle and damp air had given him an appreciation of southern weather.
They had boarded this northbound train yesterday in the town of Albraem. Tommy had wanted to go to Colman’s Gate – the small city was only a day’s ride from Hebar’s Hill – but Miri had been opposed to that plan. “The Bandit will be on every wanted poster from here to Pikeman’s Gorge,” she insisted. “The last thing we need is for some Eradian soldier to recognize us.”
