up. Although there was no impatience in his eyes at these times, she strived to walk faster. When she stumbled up to him for the umpteenth time, gasping, he looked concerned.
'Rest. You'll injure yourself.'
She sank down on a rock. 'Don't you ever get tired?'
'No.'
'I'm slowing you down.'
He nodded. 'Of course. If not for you, I would fly.'
Talsy gazed at the sky. 'I wish I could.'
'Tomorrow we will travel faster.'
'How?'
'You'll see.'
When her gasping eased, he led her onward through the woods at a far slower pace. Talsy stumbled after him, amazed by his stamina. She had always thought she was fit and strong, but he made her seem weak. Refusing to give in to her exhaustion, she pushed herself to the limit of her endurance and tried not to show it. By the time he stopped at sunset, her muscles protested every step and her head swam. She erected the tent, eager to provide the comforts she had promised.
The Mujar tried to help, but the tent seemed to baffle him, and he did more damage than good. When he pulled it askew for the fifth time, she begged him to leave it alone. He sat on a rock while she finished pitching it and collected firewood. After arranging the wood, she rummaged in her bag for the tinderbox she was sure she had packed. Some minutes later, she came to the unhappy conclusion that it was not in the bag at all. Despair flooded her. Without a fire, she could not cook the food she had brought and provide Chanter with the comforts she had promised – her side of the bargain. If she fell short on her side of the deal, he might leave her. Talsy turned stricken eyes upon the Mujar, whose brows rose at her expression.
'What's wrong?'
She swallowed. 'I – I didn't bring the tinderbox.'
'Ah.' He rose and came over to squat beside the pile of wood. 'You want to make this burn.'
Talsy nodded. 'But without the tinderbox I can't, so I can't cook supper and…'
Chanter cocked his head and regarded her with gentle eyes. 'And that's your side of the clan bond.'
Talsy burst into tears as her tiredness and the feeling of inadequacy that had plagued her all day found release. The Mujar looked astonished, studying her twisted face with obvious fascination. He wiped a tear from her cheek and tasted it.
'Shissar.'
Talsy gulped, distracted. 'What?'
'Shissar. The Power of Water. It comes from your eyes. Sea water too, very strong.'
'Those are tears. Haven't you ever seen someone cry?'
He nodded. 'Yes, but not up close. Just a lot of wailing, hair-pulling and breast-beating.'
'When you were in a clan?'
'Yes.'
'What happened to them?'
Chanter shrugged. 'They died.'
'How?'
'Black Riders.'
Talsy sniffed, wiping her nose. 'Why didn't you protect them?'
'They didn't want me to.'
She pondered his reaction to her tears again. 'Have you never cried?'
'No.'
'Even when you were a child?'
Chanter considered. 'I was never a child.'
'But…' She stared at him, confused. 'How were you born?'
'I don't know.' He appeared to lose interest in the subject, and glanced at the pile of wood. 'Do you want this to burn?'
'Yes, but without the tinderbox…'
Chanter placed his hand on the wood. The air filled with a roaring crackle, and a wave of scorching heat and thick smoke enveloped her. Talsy yelled and jumped up to flee the inferno. The sounds and sensations vanished, and Chanter gripped her flailing arms, forcing her to stop flapping them.
'It's all right,' he said.
Talsy swallowed another yell and looked around in wide-eyed confusion at the peaceful snow-covered forest. A faint taste of soot lingered on her tongue, and the wood burnt merrily, mocking her panic with its tame glow.
Chanter released her, frowning. 'I should have warned you. The manifestation of Crayash can be frightening, I suppose.'
She took a deep breath to steady her tattered nerves. 'No, I should have known nothing can harm me when I'm with you.'
Chanter laughed, revealing perfect white teeth. 'Is that what you think?'
'Isn't it true?'
His smile faded. 'You're a strange creature. Perhaps because you're still young. One day, you too will hate Mujar.'
'No, never.'
He wiped a tear from her cheek. 'Such certainty.'
Talsy looked away, startled and confused by his touch. Chanter studied her, then returned to his rock to gaze into the fire. Talsy quelled a pang of disappointment that surprised her and rummaged in the bag for her pots. While she waited for the meat to cook, she pondered him. Since he had agreed to clan bond, he seemed more talkative and friendly. Already she knew her father was wrong about Mujar in several ways. They were not stupid or emotionless, nor were they like animals. The more time she spent with Chanter, the more god-like he seemed.
Chanter ate the stew, washed his bowl in the snow and handed it back to her. After putting away the equipment, she arranged the bedding in the tent and crawled into it, waiting with bated breath for the Mujar to join her. Dusk crept across the land, sending long fingers of shadow between the trees, and Talsy shivered as the night chill invaded the tent. Chanter sat by the fire and stared into the gathering darkness, clearly oblivious to her expectancy and rapidly freezing extremities.
When she could bear it no longer, she called out, 'Chanter? Are you coming to sleep?'
He shot her a startled look, then nodded and rose.
Talsy tensed in anticipation as he eased into the tent and lay down beside her, propped up on one elbow. The temperature rose with his presence, and when he took her cold hands and rubbed them, his were amazingly warm. She wriggled closer to soak up his warmth and make it quite clear that she was willing to participate in any other activities he might desire. He glanced at her, and Talsy shivered with delight, her heart pounding. This close to him, she discovered that he smelt only of his clothes' damp leather.
Chanter said, 'Go to sleep, Talsy.'
Her eyes burnt with tears of mortification. He did not find her attractive. She was just a smelly Trueman girl, not clean and pure like him. She closed her eyes, pretending she had not expected anything else, and rested her cheek on his chest. Within a few minutes, sleep washed her away on midnight waves.
As soon as the girl slept, Chanter moved away, covering her with a fur. The warmth he had given her would stay with her for a while, perhaps all night. He backed out of the tent, almost tripping over one of the silly strings that held it up. The relief of escaping Dolana's drain was immense. Mujar could not lie on the ground like Lowmen. Not for long, anyway. Of course, the little innocent in the tent did not know that.
Chanter contemplated the bargain he had made with her. The food she had provided was good, but he did not need the tent or the slow pace. Then again, he was in no hurry. Her offer of comforts was not the reason he had accepted clan bond with her. It had been the desperation with which she had begged for it. He had never known a Lowman to beg, or to look at him with such respect and admiration. Even his clan had treated him as a servant.
