She smiled a little. “Then you’re wiser than I thought, if you’ve figured that out. Wise enough to know that you’ll be better off packing up now so you can leave straight away in the morning.”
“Does Kero know I’m leaving tomorrow?” he managed to get out. Tarma looked at him oddly for a moment, then nodded.
“I told her,” the Shin’a’in said, her expression utterly deadpan. “She didn’t say anything. Did you two have a fight?”
He started to tell her what had happened between them, then stopped himself; why, he didn’t really know, unless it was just that he didn’t want anyone else to now about this particular quarrel. “Not really,” he said. “It’s just I haven’t seen her all afternoon....” He let his words trail off so that Tarma could read whatever she wanted to in them.
She nodded. “Good-byes are a bitch,” she said shortly. “Never got used to them, myself. Travel well and lightly,
She gave him a quick, hard hug, and there was a suspicion of tears in her eyes. Then she left him alone in his suddenly empty room. Left him to pack the little he had that he wanted or needed to take with him. Not the clothes, certainly, except what he needed to travel with—Faram would have him outfitted the moment he passed the city gates in the finest of silk and wool, velvet and leathers. Not the books; they were Tarma’s. The weapons and armor, some notes and letters. A couple of books of his own. His life here had left him very little in the way of keepsakes....
And where was Kero? Why didn’t she come to him?
She didn’t appear at his door any time that evening; he finished packing and tried to read a book, but couldn’t concentrate on the words. Finally he took a long hot bath, and drank a good half-bottle of wine to relax. He thought about his father; he and Kero had that in common as well, after the first shock, he was having a hard time feeling the way, perhaps, he should. He hardly knew the King—he’d spent more time away from Court than in it, mostly because of Thanel. Faram had been more of a father than Jad. The King had been the King, and word of his death was enough to shock any dutiful subject into tears. If it had been Faram, now—
He finished the bottle, tried once more to read, then gave up and climbed into bed. He more than halfway expected Kero to drift in through his door after he blew out the candle.
But no; though he waited until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore, despite tension that had his stomach in knots and his shoulders as tight as braided steel, she didn’t come.
By morning, he’d finally begun to believe that she wouldn’t. That he’d said the unforgivable.
He hadn’t expected her, but as he was saddling up his old palfrey, Tarma came down the stairs to the stable to see him off.
He’d never had more than cursory contact with Lady Kethry, and he wasn’t surprised when she didn’t appear at her partner’s side, but he was unexpectedly touched to see Tarma again.
“Couldn’t let you go without a parting gift, lad,” she said. “You’ll need it, too. Take Roan.”
“Take
“Dear gods, we’ve got Ironheart and Hellsbane, plus a couple of mules. He’ll be eating his head off in the stable if you don’t take him.” She led the gelding out of his stall and tethered him beside the palfrey. “Look at him, he’d be perfectly happy to do just that. I’d say it’s your duty to save the overstuffed beggar from his own stomach.”
“In that case,” he said, “I guess I have no choice.”
“Never try to cross a Shin’a’in, boy,” she told him gravely. “We always get our way.”
“So I’ve learned.” He dared to reach for her bony shoulders and hug her; she returned it, and they both came perilously close to damp eyes.
“Now get out of here before I have to feed
It was a feeble joke, but it saved him, and he was able to take his leave of her dry-eyed, saddle up Roan, and ride off down the path to the road.
