She did not protest as he led her from the hill, down the slope, through silent, ghostly ranks that parted to let them pass. Over the road, across the shallow ditch, then onto the slope leading to the ridge. Where the remaining hundred or so Grey Swords stood to honour the man who had once been Fener’s Shield Anvil. Someone was following at a distance-behind Gruntle and Stonny, but neither turned to see who it was. They reached the small gathering.
