“The sense of loss never leaves, little brother,” Snowfire said in a perfectly normal tone of voice. “But it does grow less over time, as long as you permit yourself to feel. If you bottle it inside, it only eats at you, until you are hollow and full of nothing but grief - ”
“How do you know?” Darian blurted, feeling unaccountably angry - then he could have beaten his head against a tree for snapping at Snowfire so.
But Snowfire didn’t snap back; he just finished braiding his hair and looked at Darian quizzically. “Who told you that Tayledras are immortal?” he asked. “Whoever he was, he was misinformed.”
Darian hung his head, his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean. . . .”
“You didn’t think,” Snowfire corrected, with a kindly tone in his voice. “And given the hour and the circumstances, I can hardly fault you. You are tired, in every way. Much longer, and I will be snapping in an ill-tempered snarl myself,”
Darian flushed even hotter, if that was possible. “I can’t imagine you ever doing anything wrong!” he stammered.
To his surprise, Snowfire chuckled. “Oh, Dar’ian, do not ever allow Nightwind to hear you, or she will fill your ears with the myriad ways and times in which I have transgressed!” He rolled his eyes skyward. “I cannot even tell you which is worse - that she never forgets, or that she is right far too often - or at least, thinks that she is!”
To his surprise, Darian found himself smiling a little, for he had certainly heard the men of Errold’s Grove making the same complaints in the “tavern.” “I guess all ladies are like that. The ones at home - “
He stopped in midsentence. There wasn’t any “home” anymore. And as for the men who frequented the tavern, he had no idea where they were or what had happened to them. Were they even still alive? Shouldn’t he be getting help for them? What was he thinking of, lolling about in ponds like this, when he should be helping the people of Errold’s Grove? How had he managed to forget the rest of his people?
“What’s the matter?” Snowfire asked, breaking into his silence.
“I should - what am I still doing here?” he asked, feeling a frantic urge to do something, and not knowing what he could do. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a nervous dance. “I’ve got to go somewhere, got to get help. Why am I still here? I should be out there, trying to get somebody to help us, not here, enjoying myself!”
Before he could yield to that urge and just run off into the darkness, Snowfire seized his elbow, and somehow the mere touch calmed him. “Dar’ian, listen to me, and please believe me,” the Hawkbrother said urgently. “Hweel and Kel and I have been to your village, the second night after you came to us - we saw no signs that your people had been killed, and none that they had been captured either. We are fairly sure they must have escaped completely. You can be at ease, for it seems likely that they have already found help!”
“But you’re not completely sure?” Darian asked, wanting to believe, and not sure that he dared to. “You think they’re all right, but you - “
“I could not be completely sure without going into the village and looking into all the houses,” Snowfire interrupted, and added, “I think you will agree that this would not be a very wise course of action.”
“Uh - probably not,” Darian replied, trying to think where people could have escaped to.
“We think that they probably went down the river,” Snowfire continued. “There is a place there with fortifications - some great lord’s holding, we think?”
“Kelmskeep,” Darian replied automatically, “Lord Breon’s manor.” And somehow, just being able to identify the place made him lose some of that feeling of frantic urgency. “What did you see when you went back? I have to know! What if they didn’t get away, how would you know?”
“Then sit here, and I will tell you.” Snowfire gestured at a rock that seemed perfectly sculpted to act as a chair, and took another like it. “I do not know if you have been told this, but a Tayledras can see through the eyes of his bond-bird. I remained near where we found you, in the boughs, on the same line as the sentries. Hweel and Kelvren went on, since it would be far less likely they would be detected than a human, and it would be far easier for them to escape if they were sighted.”
Darian nodded, leaning forward tensely to better hear Snowfire’s soft voice.
“The bridge crossing the river had been repaired, and it appeared that few of the buildings had actually been burned, mostly a handful of sheds. There were livestock in crude enclosures in the fields, and many, many horses in better enclosures there also.” Snowfire tilted his head and brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, as Darian flinched at the thought of cows pastured in the young crops. “Why do you wince?”
“They’re eating the crops,” Darian explained, thinking with pain of all the work that the villagers had put into those fields, only to have those animals devouring the food that should have gone to feed the village over the winter. “There won’t be anything to last until spring.”
“The barbarians of the north - which is what I believe these are - do not farm much; they are mostly hunters. Crop growing is a task for women and thralls, and the men don’t trouble themselves with where food other than meat comes from.” Snowfire seemed lost in thought for a moment, then came to himself with a shake of his head. “This tells me that the barns are empty of livestock, and there must be something else in the barns. I count the horses, knowing that northern barbarians are not great horsemen, and that there will be a dozen men who fight afoot for every rider. I decided then that the barns must be full of those soldiers, and the houses are full of the riders, who are of higher rank. Guessing at the numbers by the number of horses, I would say that there was no room in the village for your own people, and there are no people sleeping out in the open. So, I think they must have escaped.”
“And then?” Darian persisted. “Then what happened?”
“Then Kelvren was discovered, and he and Hweel had to leave.” Snowfire shrugged eloquently. “So do you think I am right?”
Darian tried to think, but he could not imagine where the villagers could be - other than escaped - if they weren’t in their own homes or in the barns. “I guess that must be right - “ he said, and suddenly found himself yawning. “But why can’t you attack these people? Aren’t you supposed to be Valdemar’s allies? Aren’t you going to help?”
“If we thought that your people were in danger, we would, regardless of the danger to us,” Snowfire said firmly, “But, Darian, just what do you propose we should do? You know how few of us there are, and you had a glimpse of how many the enemy has in his ranks.”
“But magic - “ Darian protested. “You can use magic - “
“Not as yet,” Snowfire told him. “Not in any way that will balance our small numbers. First, we must see if your people summon their own aid; it would be foolish, wouldn’t it, if we tried to attack and failed, only to see an army of your people come the next day?”
Having seen what the enemy could do, Darian had another word for it than “foolish.” He gulped, thinking of what a real battle must look like. Not merely one man with a-wounded arm, but many people hurt, even killed. And it wouldn’t be strangers dying, it would be people he knew. The thought made him sick to his stomach. “I think that would be a bad idea,” he replied weakly.