couldn’t make myself ask. Besides, I’d been traveling a few months anyway, and the floor wasn’t as hard for me as Dawn’s sadness.”
Jocelyn stopped and took another pull of wine, leaving her plate untouched.
Silver spoke softly, compellingly, a voice full of promise. “You loved her, didn’t you? The first time I heard ‘Dawn of Sorrows,’ I thought it must have been written by a man.”
Had she? They’d never been lovers. But she knew every line of Dawn’s face, every curve of her slender arms. She knew the shape of her fingers (long, slender, with one pinky shorter than the other). Even after all this time, she remembered how warm Dawn’s hand had felt in hers. Even though she’d only had weeks with Dawn, she still stopped by streams and pretty trees in bloom, and wished Dawn were there to point them out to.
She swallowed hard. “I loved her beauty and her loss, and her story was so romantic and so tragic, and I’d seen the most recent part of it. So maybe I
“I talked to the mayor that next morning. I told him about the Choosing, and he helped me get news out that Selenay had sent me to talk to the town.
“I met with about twenty townspeople that night. Farmers and hunters; strong and tough, sure of themselves. The women held their little ones like they were gold, especially the older boys, watching me carefully. Their faces were stoic and still as I told them Selenay wanted them to abandon Johnson’s Ford.
“When you’ve worked your whole life to keep a town together, when you’ve built the buildings with your own hands, you don’t much want to just pick up and leave. After the first amazement at having the Queen’s words sent to them, the meaning of the words sank in. Some of the parents understood right away, but most people’s faces stayed stones to me, and I knew I hadn’t convinced them. So I told them I’d sing to them, every night, and that they could find me at Dawn’s house most of the day if they had questions. I only sang a few songs that first night. Even though I put as much of my Gift into those songs as I could, the town didn’t just jump up and start packing.
“Another mage-born storm slammed into town that night, and by morning the streets ran with water and the river had risen noticeably, but still no one agreed to leave. Between me and the storm, it took four days before anyone started to pack. Those four days are their own story that I’ll share some other time.
“Each night, I sat with Dawn after I came back in, wet from walking home from the Mayor’s house in the storms. We kept a fire going, talking a little and singing a little and staying quiet a lot.” Jocelyn started to reach for the wine again, but changed her mind and picked up the bread. She chewed slowly, watching the little fire. “So it took four days for the town to start packing. It began with three women who had little kids, and their husbands, and then a grandfather and then a young couple that had just gotten married. By the sixth day I was there, everyone finally decided they didn’t want to be the last one in Johnson’s Ford, and they all started making plans to leave. Some had family in other towns, but most were just going to walk away from the border, walk farther into Valdemar and hope.
“Except Dawn.
“Dawn came up to me, her eyes big and dark and suddenly full of fire instead of sadness. She said, ‘I don’t want to go with them. I want to help you keep other people safe. I want to go with you.’
“She took me aback, completely. She looked so brave, and so damned lonely. I reminded her I was traveling toward danger, and wouldn’t be going back to Haven until winter. I thought maybe that was it, maybe she wanted to get to Haven and saw me as the easiest way to get near Lisle. But she stood in front of me, looking like she’d looked when she stared into Tamay’s eyes, rooted, curious, and full of dread.
“She said, ‘I want to do something that matters. All my life I’ve just lived, and loved the people I loved, and I’ve been lucky. I had the best husband and the best little girl in the world. They’re all gone now. Even Lisle, even if I get to live near her, well, she’ll have her own life. Tamay told me all about the Collegium and about how Lisle would have important jobs for Valdemar, how she was special. Tamay convinced me my little baby was special for more than me, that it was time for her to grow up. Now it’s time for me to do something that matters, and the only thing I can think of is to go help you.’ She took my hand, the first time she voluntarily touched me. ‘You can use someone familiar with living near the woods and hills of the border, I know you could. I can’t just run away with everyone else, and I can’t start over, not yet, not until the war is over. Lisle’s gone off to help in her way, and I want to help in mine. I need to.’
Jocelyn shifted uncomfortably, and stirred the fire. Dawn’s eyes had drilled into her so hard, needed her to say yes so badly. “I didn’t have an argument for her; I understood her. We were allowed to accept local help. I could probably even bring her back to Haven and find her work somewhere, maybe even at the Collegium. But first there was a war on. I wish I’d told her no, every day I wish I’d told her no.”
“I took her.
“The next town was about the same size as Johnson’s Ford, and we stayed outside of it in my tent, stormdrenched and shivering, for the first night. The second night, an older couple made room for us in their barn. That town took five days to convince to leave. Then we went to Killdeer, which was big enough for an inn. A Herald came through there the day after we got there, reinforcing my message, so we were off again.” Jocelyn paused, reaching for water.
Silver shivered. “I was only thirteen that year and mostly I heard about everything—I wasn’t involved, except I did get to see the gryphons come into Haven. I remember
Jocelyn closed her eyes. “I felt older.”
“And Dawn, how old was Dawn?”
“I don’t know. I suppose she was in her late twenties. Lisle couldn’t have been more than ten when she was Chosen, and women marry young out in the hill country like that. I bet she wasn’t ten years older than I was.”
Silver took a bite of cheese and reached for the wine. The last light had faded; Silver’s white face and light hair looked almost ghostly in the firelight. “But she listened to you, followed you, right?” She sipped the wine. “Because you were a full Bard?”
Jocelyn shook her head. “Not everyone follows you because you’re a Bard. Not in Haven, and not out here. You’ll learn that eventually.” She steepled her hands under her chin, musing on Silver’s question. “I think she needed someone, and maybe it mattered that I was a Bard, but maybe it mattered more that I had seen Dawn’s loss, and been there for her. I was young, and any other year, I probably wouldn’t have been a full Bard yet. I think a few of us were tested into full Scarlets because Valdemar needed us. That was a scary year with new-found Mages and Ancar’s army and the storms. Very little was done the way you’d do it in peacetime.” Jocelyn took her own sip of wine. Silver was right—she really had been young. Younger even than Silver, if just by a year or two.
Silver said, “You’ve traveled alone ever since. Didn’t you like having someone to travel with?”
The fire snapped and popped, holding Jocelyn’s gaze. The presence of the other woman did feel good. And Jocelyn wasn’t responsible for her. Even though Silver was younger, she was a full Bard. While Dennis was correct and Silver could learn from Jocelyn, they were more equal than Jocelyn and Dawn had ever been. Silver had education as well as enthusiasm, even if she had lived in the city her whole life. Maybe . . . maybe Silver could be a friend. Or more. Dawn could have been more, but there hadn’t been time. . . .
Jocelyn threw two new logs on the fire and watched it lick up their edges in bright tendrils, then bloom. The new light played on her feet. She didn’t have to decide whether or not to trust Silver, not yet. But she did have a story to tell. She finished eating and then slid down so her back rested against the log. Next to her, Silver took out her metal flute and started polishing it with a clean cloth until firelight glittered back from its bright surface. Jocelyn cleared her throat. “We had fires like this at night, small and cozy, and we talked. After a while, Dawn began to talk about Lisle and Drake. She told me doing something, even just helping me find my way from place to place, helped her to feel less lonely. Oh, I still heard her crying sometimes at night, especially when it was cold and wet and we shared a tent and lay close, each of us swaddled in blankets, but still near enough to share body heat. The coldest, scariest nights, we even held hands.”
She’d never told anyone that. But then, she hadn’t told the story at all for years. Oh, she’d told plenty of stories and sung plenty of songs to countless people she didn’t know. But this was different. It was like . . . like talking to Dawn had been.
“After we’d been traveling two weeks, we had two more towns to go, and then I was due to head back. I still
