the demon's monstrous minions might still be about. No, Pony's only fear was of a different sort, of memories wrought by the foolishness of men, the reminder of how little she had accomplished, of how futile her dear Elbryan's death had been.
She stopped at the appointed spot, a secluded stream-fed pond not so far from the grove that held Elbryan's grave. Bradwarden wasn't there yet, so she hopped down from Greystone and kicked off her shoes, dropping her feet into the comfortably chilly water.
A long time passed, but Pony hardly cared that the centaur was late. She lay back in the leaf-covered grass, splashing her feet, remembering the good times and putting the bad far, far away.
'I'd throw ye in for the fun of it, if I didn't think the chili'd kill ye,' came the centaur's voice, some time later, rousing Pony from a restful sleep.
She looked up at the sky curiously. ' Noon? ' she asked with sarcasm, for that had been their appointed hour and the sun was now low in the western sky.
'Midday, I said,' the centaur corrected. 'And since I'm to bed after the turn of midnight, and asleep until late in the morn, this is close enough, by me own guessin'!'
Pony threw a handful of leaves at him, but the autumn wind got them and sent them fluttering in all directions.
'Ye got to learn to look at the world proper, girl.' Bradwarden laughed.
'A world I'll be seeing more of soon enough,' Pony replied.
'Aye, I saw yer friend Roger and he telled me as much,' said Bradwarden. 'He finally got to ye, did he? Well, ye know how I'm feelin' about it.'
'Indeed,' Pony muttered, for Bradwarden had been pestering her to go to the south with Roger almost as much as Roger had.
'Ye can't be hidin' forever, now can ye? '
'Hiding?' Pony snorted. 'Can you not understand that I simply prefer this place? '
'Even if ye're speakin' true-and I'm thinkin' that ye're tellin' yerself a bit of a lie-then ye should get out beyond the Timberlands once in a bit and see the wider world.'
'If Roger had his way, I would be spending the whole of my winter in Palmaris,' Pony remarked.
'Not so bad a thing!' Bradwarden bellowed.
Pony looked at him doubtfully. 'Life here is peaceful and enjoyable,' she replied after a while. 'I've no desire to leave, and do so only as a friend to Roger, who does not wish to travel the road to Caer Tinella alone. I cannot understand his restlessness-he has all that he wants right here.' That brought a belly laugh from the centaur. 'All that he's wantin'? ' he echoed incredulously. 'And what're ye thinkin's here for the boy? The sun's shinin', girl. Don't ye feel it in yer bones and in yer heart? '
Pony stared at him for a long moment, then remarked, 'In my bones, perhaps.'
Bradwarden laughed yet again. 'Aye, in yer bones alone, and there's a part o' Roger's problem!'
Pony stared at him curiously.
'He's a young man, full o' spirit and full o' wantin',' the centaur pointed out the obvious. 'There be only two single women in all the three Timberland towns, and one's still a child and showing no hints of love.'
'And the other is me,' Pony reasoned. 'You don't believe that Roger…' she started to ask, her voice showing her alarm.
'I believe that he'd love ye with all his heart if ye wanted it,' Bradwarden remarked. 'But, no, girl, ye rest easy, for Roger's not thinkin' on ye in that way. He's too good the friend, for yerself and for yer Nightbird.'
Pony rested back in the thick carpet of leaves, considering the words. 'Roger's going to Palmaris to find a wife,' she stated more than asked.
'A lover, at least, I'd be guessin',' the centaur replied. 'And can ye blame him?'
That last question, and the rather sharp tone in which it was delivered, made Pony glance up at Bradwarden curiously.
'Have ye so forgotten what it's feelin' like to be in love? ' the centaur asked quietly, compassionately.
'Spoken from you?' Pony asked with more than a little sarcasm, for, as far as she knew, Bradwarden had never been enamored of any other centaurs; as far as Pony knew, there weren't any other centaurs in all the world!
'It's a bit different with me own kind,' the centaur explained. 'We've ways to…' He paused, obviously embarrassed, and cleared his throat, a great rumbling sound like boulders cascading down a rocky slope. 'We go to find our lovin' once a five-year, and no more. A different love each time, or mighten be the same. And when the mare's with young, then she's to rear and raise the little one alone.'
'So you never knew your father,' Pony reasoned.
'Knew of him, and that's enough,' Bradwarden said; and if there was a trace of regret in his voice, Pony couldn't detect it.
'But yer own kind,' the centaur went on, 'now, there's a different tale to be felled. I been watchin' yer kind for too long to be thinkin' that any of ye might find happiness alone.'
Pony eyed him squarely, for that remark had been a clear shot at her, she believed.
'Oh, ye'11 find yerself wantin' again, perhaps, and might that ye won't,' the centaur replied to that look. 'But ye've known love, girl, as great a love as me own eyes've e'er seen. Ye've known it, and ye can feel it still, warmin' yer heart.'
'I feel a great hole in my heart,' Pony stated.
'At times,' said the centaur with a wry smile. The mere fact that Bradwarden could get away with such a look while speaking of Elbryan confirmed to Pony that there was indeed a measure of truth in his words. 'But the warm parts're meltin' that hole closed, by me own guess.
'Still, ye've known that love, as Belster once did, and so ye two have yer memories, and that's a sight more than Roger's got.'
Pony started to reply but held the words in check, considering carefully the centaur's reasoning, and deciding that it was indeed sound. Roger was lonely, and was at an age and an emotional place where he needed more than friends. Bradwarden was right: up here in the Timberlands, the choices for a young man were not plentiful.
Pony lay back and put her hands behind her head, staring up at the lateafternoon autumn sky, clear blue and with puffy white clouds drifting by. She did remember well that feeling of being in love. She felt it still, that warmth and closeness, despite the fact that her lover lay cold in the ground. She wondered then, and perhaps for the first time since the tragedy at Chasewind Manor, if she would ever find love again. Even more than that, she wondered if she would ever want to find love again.
She stayed with Bradwarden until late in the night, listening to his piping song. On her way back to Dundalis, she stopped by the grove and the two cairns, and paused there for a long time, remembering.
The next morning-still tired, for she had not returned to her bed until very late indeed-Pony rode Greystone beside Roger, who was riding an older mare he and Bradwarden had taken from Symphony's herd, down the road to the south. An easy week of riding later, the pair trotted into Caer Tinella.
They found Colleen at her house, the woman looking even more feeble and battered than she had when Pony and Belster had stopped in the town on their way to Dundalis. Still, Colleen found the strength to wrap Pony and Roger in a great hug.
'I been thinkin' o' goin' to Dundalis,' she explained, pushing Pony back to arm's length and staring admiringly at her, 'soon as I'm feeling the better, I mean.'
'Well, we saved you the journey,' Pony offered, trying to look cheerful.
Colleen put on a sly look. 'Ye paid him back good, didn't ye? Seano Bellick, I mean.'
Roger looked curiously at Pony. 'He came at us in the night,' she explained. 'I tried to convince him to leave.'
'Oh, ye convinced him, I'd say,' Colleen said with a chuckle, and she turned to Roger and explained. 'Cut off his axe hand, she did, and put an arrow into his friend's eye! Seano come through here the next day, howlin' in pain and howlin' mad. The fool run right through, and all the way to Palmaris-though I beared he got killed on the road.'
'Not much of a loss to the world, then,' Pony remarked.
'Can't know for sure,' Colleen explained, and she had to pause for a long while, coughing and coughing. 'We've not been gettin' much word from the south of late-farmers gettin' in their crops and all.'
