of these.' He looked up at Skif, thoughtfully.
'I do not think he was likely to have been a thief, though he may well have associated enough with them to have collected the tales he traded with you. He is likelier to have been something darker. I would say, one who kills in cold blood for pay.' Skif blinked, and tried to collect his thoughts. All he could think of to say, was, 'How old are you?' Wintermoon did not seem surprised at the non-sequitur. 'You are Darkwind's age, I would guess. I am sixteen summers his senior.' He half-smiled, wryly. 'It is difficult to determine the age of a Tayledras, even if you are of the Clans yourself.'
'oh.' Skif gathered his scattered and perambulatory wits, and continued his story, but this was the most difficult part to face.
'I-I went back, as fast as I could-but-' He swallowed the knot of grief in his throat. He didn't close his eyes; if he had, he'd see them, hanging from the crossbeam of their own barn. See what had been done to them by Ancar's toadies before they were hanged. He still saw them, at night. 'The only one left was the little girl; the family had managed to get her out before the troops caught them, and she was hiding in the woods.' thank the gods, she never saw any of it, never knew what had been done to them. 'I got her across the Border; left her with friends.
Then-then I went back. Against orders. The bastard shouldn't have told so many stories; he gave me more clues than he knew, and I know cities. I tracked him down.' And I did to him what had been done to them before I killed him.
Wintermoon nodded, and waited.
Skif hesitated, then continued. 'Nobody ever said or did anything, even though they must have known what I did. And I'd do it again, I swear I would-'
'But part of you is sickened,' Wintermoon said softly. 'Because what you did may have been just, in the way of rough justice, it may have been-excessive.' He stared up at the sky for a moment. 'It is better to kill cleanly,' he said, finally. 'If you did not, you are at fault.
A creature like the one you described is not sane, any more than Mornelithe Falconsbane is-was-sane. But you do not torment something that is so crazed it cannot be saved; you kill it, so that its madness does not infect you.) Skif was astonished. 'After all he did to your people-if you had Falconsbane in front of you now-'
'I would kill him cleanly, with a single stroke,' Wintermoon said firmly. 'I learned this lesson when I was a little older than you, now-when I visited similar retribution on a very stupid bandit that had been tormenting hertasi and killing them for their hides. It does no good to visit torments upon a creature of that nature. It teaches him nothing, and makes your nature closer to his. And that is why you are troubled, Wingbrother. You knew this all along, did you not?' Skif hung his head, and closed his eyes. 'Yes,' he admitted, finally.
'I did~ Wintermoon sat in silence a moment longer. 'For what it is worth,' he said finally, 'What was done, was done in the heat of anger, and in the heat of anger, one loses perspective-and sanity. Now you are sane-and sickened. Do not forget the lesson, Wingbrother-but do not let it eat at you like a disease. Let it go, and learn from it.' Skif felt muscles relaxing that he hadn't known were tensed, and a feeling of profound relief. There. It was out in the open; Wintermoon had guessed most of it without Skif having to go into detail. And the result: he had just discovered he wasn't alone in depravity after all.
He would never have guessed from Wintermoon's serene exterior.
'Others will forgive you this, Wingbrother,' the Tayledras said softly,
'but only you can forgive yourself. You must never, never forget.'
'I won't,' Skif promised, as much to himself as to Wintermoon. 'I won't ...' He shook his head, in part, to clear it. 'I-after that, though-I got myself assigned back at the capital. I just lost my taste for adventure.' Wintermoon chuckled. 'In that case, Wingbrother, why are you here?'
'I also couldn't resist Elspeth. It's strange how, even if you know inside that there isn't a chance, you'll pursue something anyway because the thought of it is so attractive. I've known it for a long time, but I wouldn't admit it to myself. Elspeth has her own plan for her life, and my role in it is not as her lover. Still, there it is. The only way they were going to let her make this journey was if I came along.' He smiled, and shrugged. 'But, when this is all over, if I'm given a choice, I'd like to have a place like that family had. For me... or maybe for their memory.
Skif pursed his lips, then looked back up at Wintermoon. 'oh, I'd probably be awful at country living-I'd probably have everyone in the county laughing at me, but it would be good trying. I know I'd like to have a home. A family.' He smiled, a little wistfully. 'Nobody at Haven would believe that of me.'
'You have seen enough blood, enough death,' Wintermoon surmised.' You fought in battles, as a soldier?'
'Yes.' Once again he was amazed at Wintermoon's insight. Or was it something more? 'Are you talking with Cymry?' The other man nodded, and poked at the fire.
'I told him only a few things.' Cymry didn't sound at all apologetic.
'When you started talking to him and it looked like you were going to talk about that-I prompted him a little.' Why?' He wasn't angry, not really; Cymry was in and out of his thoughts so much she was part and parcel of him. She was his best and dearest friend; he loved her so deeply that he would sooner cut off his arm than lose her. And if he knew nothing else, he knew that she would never, ever do anything to harm him in any way. She had been a part of the revenge scheme, although she had not known his plan until he'd ambushed the bastard and begun. And even then, she kept silent after her initial protests. He didn't think she'd even betrayed his secret shame to other Companions. So why reveal it now?
'Because I thought it sounded and felt like you were ready to speak, and he was ready to hear,' she replied, matter-of-factly. 'And as much as being ready to speak, you were ready to listen. Was I wrong?' He shook his head. 'No. No, you were right. thank you, love.' Wintermoon sat quietly through the silent exchange, and watched Skif and Cymry alternately. When the Companion nodded, he sighed, and smiled thinly. 'I hope you are not angered with us,' he said, in half apology. 'You see, I had a similar discussion after my ill-conceived vengeance, with Iceshadow. He is not a Mind-Healer, but he is closer to being one than he thinks. He has the insights, at least.' The Hawkbrother fixed him with a penetrating stare. 'I will tell you this, out of my own experience. Although you feel relief now, this is likely to be the source of many sleepless nights for you. You will lie awake, look upon your heart, and find it unlovely. You will be certain that, regardless of what I have said, you are the greatest of monsters.
This is a good thing; although you may forgive yourself, you must never come to think that your actions were in any way justifiable. But-' He chuckled, ironically. 'As Iceshadow told me, being a sane, honorable human is not always comfortable.'
