Amrhost sighed, finished undressing, and got into his cot, propped up on one elbow. "She has convinced herself that I am a traitor, that I will betray the Four Kingdoms."
Nylandor fixed him with a look. "Are you a traitor, Master Amrhost?"
Amrhost gave him a wry, humorous look. "Even if I were, what would it matter? Would the world be worse off for the presence of one more Wight? What secrets could I possibly pass along to the enemy? Every time we move in force, our hand is tipped. Armies do not strike instantly over long distances. Foemen on both sides have days, weeks, sometimes months and years to prepare themselves.
"That said," he added pointedly with a hard edge to his voice and a disapproving glint in his eye, "I do not approve of that girl's presence! She is too young and too headstrong. By rights you should charge someone with her safety! And to prevent her from following me, once I begin my trek north to the Burning Lands. Yes, follow me! She told me last night that is her intent!"
Nylandor digested this and nodded. "She is a swordmain . . . but you are right; she is very young, and harbours what many would call a naive belief that we can resist the evil that threatens the Four Kingdoms, and in the end, defeat it. However," and now he allowed himself a wry smile, "she is here mainly for Rhia's sake, nothing more. At least, that was Baldric's intent. I hold myself personally responsible for her safety, as does Palindor, her brother, who got her sent along, hoping