"Smart," he agrees, because it is. It speaks to a thorough mind, he thinks, and probably a practical one too. "As long as the map's as accurate when you need it as it was when it was made."

And if he needed another thing reminding him of the Legion, where the people and their tools are so foreign to anything he's ever seen, here it is. A map would have been of only the vaguest use to him before - and he isn't convinced that isn't the case now.

Before he has time to think over that his head snaps around. Footsteps. Men walking in time, in mismatched uniforms, with mismatched weapons. They're dragging a wagon behind them, talking. Paying little attention, but maybe not for long.

Roland looks down at the place he'd been before, the most certain hiding spot. Then he catches sight of the woman from the corner of his eye. He shudders and then jerks his head at her, toward one of the statues, starts to creeping toward it.