It was almost impossible to believe that all of this had been covered with snow and exposed to an icy wind only five days ago. Thinking about that, Dave thought about Kevin and felt his restful mood slipping away like wind through his fingers. His mind began to turn from the open sky and the wide grasslands to darker places. Especially that one dark place where Kevin Laine had gone: the cave in Gwen Ystrat with the snow beginning to melt outside. He remembered the red flowers, the grey dog, and he would die remembering the wailing of the priestesses.
He sat up again. Tore stirred but did not wake. Overhead the sun was bright and warming. It was a good day to be alive, and Dave forced his mind away from its recollections. He knew, from bitter experience with his family, how unstable he became when he went too far with emotions like those that were stirring now.
He couldn’t afford it. Maybe, just maybe, if there could come a space of time with leisure to work things through, he might sit down for a day or two and figure out why he had cried for Kevin Laine as he had not for anyone since he was a child.
Not now, though. That was perilous territory for him, Dave knew. He put Kevin, with some sorrow, in the same place he put his father—not forgotten, quite, but not to be addressed—and walked over to where Levon was sitting with the Duke of Rhoden.
“Restless?” Levon asked, looking up with a smile.
Dave hunkered down on his calves. “Tore isn’t,” he said with a backward jerk of his head.
Mabon chuckled. “I’m glad at least one of you is showing normal responses. I thought you were minded to ride straight through to the Latham.”
Levon shook his head. “I would have needed a rest. Tore might have done it, though. He isn’t tired, just smarter than we are.”
“Do you know,” said Mabon, “I think you are right.” And he turned over on his back, spread a square of lace across his eyes, and was snoring within a minute.
Levon grinned and gestured with his head. He and Dave rose and walked a little away from the others.
“How much farther?” Dave asked. He turned through a full circle: in all directions he could see nothing but the Plain.
“We’ll be there tonight,” Levon replied. “We may see the outposts before dark. We lost a bit of time yesterday with Mabon’s business in North Keep. I suppose that’s why I was pushing.”
The Duke had been forced to delay them in order to convey a series of instructions to the North Keep garrison from Aileron. He’d also had orders of his own to be carried down the road to Rhoden. Dave had been impressed with Mabon’s unflappable efficiency—it was a quality, he’d been told, upon which men of Rhoden prided themselves. Those from Seresh, he gathered, were rather more excitable.
He said, “I slowed us up there, too. I’m sorry.”
“I’d been meaning to ask. What was that about?”
“A favor for Paul. Aileron ordered it. Do you remember the boy who came when we summoned Owein?”
Levon nodded. “I am not likely to forget.”
“Paul wanted his father posted back to Paras Derval, and there was a letter. I said I’d find him. It took a while.” Dave remembered standing awkwardly by as Shahar wept for what had happened to his son. He’d tried to think of something to say and failed, naturally. There were, he supposed, some things he’d never be able to handle properly.
“Did he remind you of Tabor?” Levon asked suddenly. “That boy?”
“A little,” Dave said, after thinking about it.
Levon shook his head. “More than a little, for me. I think I’d like to get moving.”
They turned back. Tore, Dave saw, was on his feet. Levon gestured, and the dark Dalrei put fingers to his mouth and whistled piercingly. The company began preparing to ride. Dave reached his horse, mounted up, and jogged to the front where Levon and Mabon waited.
The men of Brennin were in place and mounted very fast. Aileron had sent them men who knew what they were doing. Tore came up and nodded. Levon gave him a smile and raised his hand to wave them forward.