"We're in the open for a reason," Eragos said calmly.
Eithne did not understand how these people worked. It made sense. She was raised in a city, and had lived in one for most of her life. Eragos remembered being a child of the mountains. You knew every path as well as the gods themselves, and you used that knowledge to great effect. Gathering mushrooms in the spring thaw was a perfect excuse to send children out as scouts. They were nimble, they were not especially brave, and they were admonished to always run if they saw strangers. Eragos was certain he'd watched one child scamper off into the brush. It could have been a deer. He doubted it. Which meant any moment, an armed party from the village was going to be greeting them along this goat path. It was a fine thing, to ride without soldiers. Soldiers might make the incident into something ugly.
"We want them to know that we're coming," Lady Areinh added.
She saw enough to know that, at least. She'd dealt with such persons before. Everything from the solid white of her gloves to the pristine cool twist of her lips proclaimed her as the sort of soft city-lady that these mountain folk would immediately dislike. And yet she was able to garner results on the strength of that coolness. They did not perceive emotion in her. Only a direct nature. Eragos had lived outside of the mountain citadel long enough to know deceit when he saw it. Or rather, gamesmanship. She played the game, just as anyone in her position would. Vargis was going to mock him for thinking her so beautiful. Or strange. Of course, any time that his face felt hot, he remembered the letter from the Lady Vera pressed against the inside of his tunic.
That calmed him down, didn't it?
"Yes," and Eragos nodded once. "They'll know we're coming. They'll meet us on the road. We'll arrive at the village more quickly, and with the gift of greeting already bestowed upon our guide."
Eragos was not surprised when he found, at that moment, a white horse impeding their progress some ten yards away. Upon this white horse sat a fellow clothed in heavy gray and brown, patches and layers of fabric sewn into the cloak that shrouded his shoulders and face. If he were not atop his horse, he would have blended quite well into the face of the mountain around them. That meant there were more who had abandoned their horses some yards away. Eragos' hand shot out to still Vargis' arm. The old man had gone for one of his swords. No one reacted save Eragos, but the Rider's grip was firm, and eventually the old man relented. Only when Vargis' hand - and consequently, Eragos' - fell away did the stranger speak.
"Lady Areinh, I presume?" he flashed a smile beneath his cowl. "And her escort. I am Orill, of the great stone."
They were waiting now for the Lady to present herself.