Brightly Burning

your accident.'

'Ah.' Well, that was what he had expected. Though it would have been better for poor Elenor if her infatuation had turned to anger that Lan hadn't prevented the accident. 'And you? How do you feel about the boy?'

'I am... mixed in feeling,' Ilea admitted. 'It's not the boy's fault, but I am annoyed with him; I wish he'd at least notice she's in love with him! But he's so thick-headed!'

'Boys that age usually are, if they're unaffected by the girl in question,' Pol said dryly. 'If they do notice, they're generally so embarrassed they try to avoid her altogether, and I can't see where that would be an improvement so far as Elenor is concerned.'

'At least it would be rejection, and maybe she could stop trying to convince herself that if she just proves her devotion he'll repay it,' Ilea responded, and took the empty bowl from him. There was more irritation in her voice now, and Pol guessed that she was more put out with her own daughter than with Lavan.

'It's Elenor I'm really irritated with,' she continued, confirming his guess. 'How much will it take before she gives up? The boy couldn't be more indifferent to her, and she's a Healer. She has to be able to sense his lifebond with his Companion by now!'

Interestingly, Ilea's annoyance with her daughter lessened Pol's. 'She won't see it until she stops believing it isn't there,' he told Ilea, and put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer. She resisted for a moment, then gave in and relaxed against him. 'She doesn't want to see it, and at her age, what you want seems more important sometimes than what is.'

'Gods,' Ilea groaned. 'We may be dealing with this for years, then. Can't you do something?'

'Lan doesn't need me now,' Pol replied, after a moment of hesitation. 'Not after White Foal Pass. If— when this war is over and the Karsites are driven back, perhaps it would be wisest to have him stationed here permanently....'

Even though he was thinking aloud, the idea caught hold of his imagination, and he could see how well it would work out. Elenor would not be allowed to go far from the Collegium; Mind-Healers were too rare, and most people that needed them were brought to them rather than the other way around.

And for Lan, this would be the ideal place. He could be left here on circuit for the next two years with a senior Herald, then take over the circuit on his own. If the Karsites dared set foot across the Border again, Lan would send them back with their tails smoking.

'That would be perfect!' Ilea replied, seizing on his idea. 'Separate them! She can't obsess about someone who forgets to even answer her letters!'

'We can't do anything until the war is over,' Pol cautioned her, as he sensed her relief and enthusiasm. 'A great many things could change between now and then—'

'I know—I know—'

'And during that time we're going to have to bear with her tears and tantrums,' Pol continued. 'Not to mention every other wretched thing that a war can throw at us.'

'But I can put out my hand and feel the candle, even if I can't light it yet,' Ilea replied, sounding much less anxious already. 'Just knowing it's there is enough.'

Pol just nodded, and tightened his arm. Sometimes knowing that there would eventually be an end to something was enough. Strange, that Ilea could cope cheerfully with the endless flood of injured and dying, and be thrown so off-balance by the mere heartache of their daughter.

And of her own inability to create a miracle.

'I have to go; the Healers should be packed up by now,' Ilea said abruptly. 'I suppose—'

'You know where to find me,' Pol replied, with a final squeeze before he let her go. 'You go to your duty, love.'

'And you to yours,' he responded, and waited until the creak of her footsteps on the snow faded out of hearing range before summoning Satiran.

:Are we ready to join the Lord Marshal, old friend?: he asked, as he felt his Companion's warm breath on his neck.

:Better ask if they are ready for us!: Satiran replied, with a mental chuckle, as he linked in with Pol and gave him sight again. :Let's ride!:

TWENTY-THREE

Lan lay flat on a rocky overhang, peering down at his latest target, with the shepherd Wulaf beside him. Young Wulaf was a native of these parts; he and his shaggy pony could go very nearly anywhere that a goat could go. The boy was far more intelligent than he looked, and so was the pony; Lan and Tuck marveled at how much he knew about the area, and his pony's clever ability to find trails where there was no sign of where to go. Both pony and boy were, in the main, shaggy, untidy, brown. Both surveyed the world from beneath heavy forelocks of brown hair with blond streaks bleached by the sun.

So far Lan had managed to eliminate two potential trouble spots without actually killing anyone; both of the Karsite strongholds positioned strategically above the route the army would have to travel had been simple wooden fortresses, thrown up out of local logs, and just starting a fire that the enemy couldn't put out had driven the Karsites into the open. He burned their fortresses to the ground once there was no longer anyone in them to prevent the enemy from retaking and repairing the places. Once they were no longer protected behind walls and out of local logs, just starting a fire that the enemy couldn't put out had driven the Karsites into the open. Once they