Brightly Burning

grimy stage. Everything conspired to produce an aura of depression, from the thin, gray light to the dirty, weatherbeaten snow to the cracked paint and chipped trim on houses and shops that wouldn't be repaired until spring. He was glad when they left the city at last and into the countryside, where at least things didn't look quite as tired and tatty.

Once out of the city, the Companions took up a very peculiar pace—not a trot, not a fast walk, certainly not a canter. It was very like the lope of a wolf, the ground-eating stride that members of the canine family could keep up for candlemarks at a time—or perhaps the long-legged stride that elk used to migrate. It was a comfortable pace for a rider; a smooth, rocking motion. There was an arrangement of straps on Kalira's saddle, now rolled up and tucked out of the way, that would allow Lan to strap himself in so that he could even sleep while she moved onward. He reckoned that he would have to be very tired before he tried that little trick, but Heralds had certainly used it before.

Pol rode slightly ahead of Lan and Tuck; from time to time Elenor would look back at them and smile, but for the most part, she seemed engrossed in the scenery, what there was of it. The early part of the morning took them through a patchwork of fields inhabited by sheep or cattle, pawing through the snow to get to the grass beneath, or cultivated fields that waited for the plow beneath a thick blanket of white. Not an unblemished blanket, though; tracks of animals, the occasional human, and birds marked the surface. Once Lan spotted the place where a fox had taken a rabbit or something about that size by the tracks and the churned-up spot; another time the predator had clearly been a hawk, since the only footprints were those of the hare, and they ended in a splash of dark, old blood.

By midmorning they had passed their first village; every person that was about gathered along the side of the road to wave them onward, faces solemn. All three of them returned the salutes this time; only Elenor didn't wave, and that was largely because she was too busy holding to her father's waist with both mittened hands.

No one looked askance at a Green-clad Healer riding pillion behind a Herald; evidently that was just as familiar a sight as that of the Heralds themselves riding south. They were through the village quickly, and out into the countryside just as the first flurries began to fall.

Through air chill and quiet, without so much as a stirring of breeze, the tiny flakes dusted over the old snow and softened the edges of the bare branches. For a while it was a pleasure to ride beneath; he and Tuck actually started a game of trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues before they began to get truly hungry. By the time their stomachs were making embarrassing noises so that even Pol glanced back with a thin smile, they reached a village large enough to support an inn at last.

The Companions slowed to a walk just as Lan spotted the welcome sign hanging over a door, and Pol pulled them all up beneath it. They didn't dismount, though, much to Elenor's open dismay, and Lan's secret disappointment. One of the inn servitors brought hot meat and berry pies wrapped in napkins, and mugs of cider that steamed in the cold air. They ate in the saddle while the servant went back inside—though perhaps ate was too tame a word for the way they wolfed down the food—and exchanged empty mugs and napkins for packets of paper-wrapped sausage, bread, and cheese when the servant returned. Pol saluted the man, tossed him a coin as a tip, and they were off again before a quarter of a candlemark had passed.

The snow thickened as they ate, and soon after their departure it was no longer flurries, it was fat flakes. The air seemed a trifle warmer and held a distinct dampness; snow curtained the road in front of them, and the Companions slowed, although their pace was still faster than any horse would set.

:This is going to get thicker,: Kalira said at last, the first that she had actually spoken since they left the Collegium. :Not a blizzard, but a thick snowfall. We won't be terribly slowed, but they'll have to get the road crews out before nightfall.:

'It's going to take us longer to reach our inn than I thought,' Pol called back over his shoulder. 'Are you all right with that, or would you rather we stopped at the first inn we find at about the time we expected to stop?'

The look of agony that Elenor cast back over her shoulder decided Lan. 'Stop when we find an inn, please,' he replied. 'It might not be as comfortable, but we're not used to riding for this long.'

'Ah. Right.' The startled, then thoughtful look that Pol gave back to him suggested to Lan that the senior Herald had understood who 'we' really was. His next move confirmed it, as he directed them all to stop for a moment and get down to stretch their legs and take care of other pressing business. The snow was thick enough now to provide a modesty curtain for them all, which relieved Lan considerably. The cold made things awkward enough without the added factor of embarrassment in front of Elenor.

'She's not doing too badly yet,' Tuck observed, as they washed their hands with snow. 'Not a peep out of her.'

Lan kept his doubts to himself, and just nodded. He really hoped that the rigors of this journey would convince Elenor to turn back around.

Pol mounted Satiran and extended his hand to his daughter. He pulled Elenor back up onto the pillion, and she tried not to wince. 'No, sweetling, don't sit astride,' he told her, as she tried to get her leg over Satiran's rump. 'Sit side-saddle fashion. We aren't going to be going that fast, you'll be safe enough, and it's a different position for your legs. You'll be all right.' The young Healer obeyed him. Although this was a less stable position, it clearly gave her aching legs a lot of relief, given her expression.

Pol looked back to see that the other two were mounted, and waved them on.

The snow was so thick now that Lan couldn't see more than a wagon's length to either side of the road, or ahead. They might just as well have been moving along on a treadmill, going nowhere. It was an odd feeling.

The snow itself, light and fluffy, took no effort for the Companions to push through. Things might be different, though, if the wind began to blow. Wind would create drifts and pack the snow hard where it collected. He hoped they wouldn't get any before they stopped for the night; it could turn the last hours of the day into a waking nightmare.

Not to mention what it would be like for the poor Companions.

:Thank you for thinking of me at last,: Kalira teased.

:Perhaps I ought to stop thinking of things that can go wrong,: he observed ironically, as a light wind picked up and blew the falling flakes toward them.

:Isn't that like trying not to think of a blue cow?: she replied, and bowed her head into the wind. :Better fasten your cloak tight while you still can.:

Lan took her advice, making certain that every clasp on his cloak was fastened tightly and that his scarf was wrapped around his neck and tucked in, tying the strings of his hood tight around his face. Glancing to the side, he