"Should be," I repeat.
"If it 'twere any other era, aye."
If television and movies have taught me anything, it's that countdowns are never good.
"What else is there?" he asks.
"It says there are others seeking me who will attack you before the fork." I reread it, puzzled. "Does that make sense?"
Across from me, the Red Knight has gone rigid, one hand on the hilt of his sword. "Are you certain?"
"Yeah. Why? What's wrong?"
He reaches back and slaps the wall of the carriage twice. "The fork is less than a candlemark from where we found you."
I have no idea what a candlemark is - a measure of time? distance? - but judging by his reaction, it's close, and that's bad.
The wagon stops quickly enough that I barely catch the cheese that comes hurling at me.
"You mean they're coming now?" I ask in alarm.
"Stay here." He shoves the door open to the wagon and leaps out, slamming it closed behind him.