“The wagoner’s eyes were wide open. The shock of what had just happened was frozen on his face. His own dagger was buried deep in his chest. ‘He fell on his knife. He’s dead.’ the steward said. He looked up at the Ranger, but saw neither quilt nor regret in his dark eyes. ‘What a shame,’ said Will Treaty. Then, gathering his cloak around him, he turned and strode from the tent.”
