He had stared at her as if he thought she would vanish or flee with the first word. 'Nyara, you know I don't like what they're asking you to do,' he said, finally. His voice was hoarse as if he were forcing the words out over some kind of internal barrier.
She had stared deeply into his eyes, dark with emotions she could not read, and fear (which she could), and nodded slowly, still holding her peace.
'But I also won't deny the fact that-that you have a right to do anything you want, and you're capable of doing it. And I won't deny you the chance to do what you think is right, what you have to do.
You're your own person, and if I tried to stop you, tried to manipulate you by telling you I love you, which I do, absolutely, completely-' He shook his head with a helpless desperation, his eyes never once leaving hers, a frantic plea for understanding in his gaze. 'I won't do that to you, I won't manipulate you. Please, understand, I don't like this, but I won't stop you, because I know it's something you have to do.~
She had reached up to touch his cheek gently, a lump born of mingled emotions briefly stopping her voice. Then she had smiled and said lightly,
'But I think you have also learned the futility of trying to stop someone who is set on a course from dealing with Els-peth. Yes?' Her attempt at lightening the mood had worked. He had growled a little, but a tiny smile crept onto his lips, and a little of the worry eased from his face. 'Yes. Minx. You would remind me of that, wouldn't you?' She had sighed as he relaxed his grip on her shoulders and had moved forward so that he could hold her-which is what she had wanted him to do, with equal desperation, ever since this morning.
For a long time they simply stood together, holding each other, taking comfort from each other's warmth and nearness. 'I think what I hate the most is not what you're doing, but that I can't be with you,' he had said, finally, his arms tightening around her. 'I feel so damned helpless.
I hate feeling helpless.'
'We all hate feeling helpless,' she had reminded him.
Well, so they did, and she was not feeling less helpless than he, though for different reasons.
Her eyes adjusted to the growing darkness as they rode out into the snow, following, for a while, the tracks of Darkwind and Elspeth. The clean, cold air felt very good on her face; in fact, if their situation had not been so tense, she would have enjoyed this. She had discovered out in her tower that she enjoyed the winter, even with all the hardships she had endured once the weather had turned cold. Now she was adequately clothed for winter in Tayledras scout gear; now she was riding upon the back of a creature built for striding through snow, rather than forcing her own way through the drifts. This was winter taken with pure pleasure.
But tension had her stomach in such sour knots that she had not been able to eat much; her back and shoulders were knotted with anxiety, and she was terribly aware of the burden of the sword at her side and what it meant. Need was cloaking her, presumably, as well as itself, but she absolutely required that cloaking, and she would require every bit of her mentor's skill and learning to come through this alive.
The alarms and traps should not react to me, she told herself, once again.
Father has been otherwise occupied. In no way would he ever expect me to return to him of my own will after attacking him and betraying him. Surely he will not have tampered with the defenses since I left him last. He has been beset by the Shin'a'in, launching his own attacks-when has he had time to reset them? Once I leave Skif and Wintermoon at the border, there should be no difficulty in getting within the territory or the strongholdso why am I as frightened as a rabbit walking into the den of a Changelion?
She shivered, though not with cold, and touched the hilt of the sword unconsciously.
'I'm here, little one,' the sword said calmly. 'I'm screening us both for all I'm worth. You can do this; I trained you, and I know.' Some of the sword's calm confidence seeped into her own soul and eased the cramps in muscles and stomach. There was no point in getting so knotted up that she would accomplish nothing, after all . No point in worrying until it was time to worry.
The trail widened at that point, and Skif rode up beside her; she turned to smile at him, but it was so dark that although she could see his face, she doubted that he could see hers.
'We should talk like this, Wintermoon says,' came his mind-voice deep inside her head. Although she had never heard it, she knew it for his and it gave her unexpected comfort, like feeling his hand holding and steadying her. 'I'm not-very good at it, I should warn you. Have to be this close to you.'
'I will-try,' she replied the same way, stumbling a little despite her practice with Need. Her father had never spoken mind-to-mind with her; he had only used his mind to coerce her, and to hurt her.
You'd like Valdemar, I think,' he said unexpectedly. 'Especially the hills in the south. They're very beautiful in the winter. You'd probably like the Forest of Sorrows,' too; that's way in the north. There are mountains up there so tall that some of them have never been climbed.' She Saw the image of the mountains, and the forest at their feet, in his mind; saw it drowsing in the heat of summer, alive with birds in the spring, cloaked in flame in the fall, and sleeping beneath a blanket of snow in winter. 'Why so sad a name?' she asked.
'oh-that's because of Vanyel,' he replied, and told her the tale, embellished with images out of his own experiences and imagination. That tale led to another-and another-and soon it was midnight and time to stop for a bit of a rest and a chance to check their bearings against the stars.
Wintermoon oriented himself; she and Skif dismounted and walked a short distance. 'This-being a Herald, I do not understand,' she told him, as he held her within the warmth of his arms and coat, and they waited for Wintermoon's two bondbirds to report with their findings.
'Sometimes I don't understand it either,' he admitted. 'I suppose the closest I can come is to say that it's something I have to do-just as what we're doing now is something you have to do. But what I do is not because of hate, or anger, or the feeling that I owe it to anyone.' She moved her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes. 'Then why?' she asked simply, longing, suddenly, to understand.
'Would it sound entirely stupid to say that it was out of love?' he asked.
'that's not the whole of it; that's not even the largest part, but it's the start.' She waited, patiently, for the rest of the answer, and it came, in bits and pieces. They were pieces that did not yet fall together to make a whole, but like the pieces of a mirror they reflected bits of him that made her see him a little more clearly. When one assembled a broken mirror, one could still discern an image.
Some of his reason was gratitude-the Heralds had literally saved his life and given him something like a real family. That revelation made her feel kinship and a bitter envy; she had known only brief affection and never any
