He got up, then, moving slowly and carefully with half-closed eyes so as not to break the pleasant half-sleep, half-waking state he was experiencing. Herewiss wrapped a sheet around himself, went out of the room and padded ghost-silent down the hall to listen at the next door down. Nothing. He pushed the door gently open, went in, closed it behind him. Lorn was snoring faintly beneath the covers.
Herewiss eased into the bed behind Freelorn, snuggled up against his back, slipped an arm around his chest; Freelorn roused slightly, just enough to hug Herewiss's arm to him, and then started snoring again.
Herewiss closed his eyes and sank very quickly into sleep, dreaming of the shadowed places in the Bright-wood, and of serene eyes that watched eternally through the leaves.
When Herewiss came down to breakfast, Freelorn was there before him, putting away eggs and hot sugared apples and guzzling hot minted honey-water as if he had been up for hours. This was moderately unusual, since Freelorn almost never ate breakfast at all. More unusual, though, was the fact that he was up early, and looked cheerful — he was usually a later riser, and grumpy until lunch time.
Herewiss sat down next to him, and Freelorn grunted by way of saying hello. 'Nice day,' he said a few seconds later, around a mouthful of food.
'It is that.' Herewiss looked up to see Dritt and Moris come in together. Dritt was humming through his beard, though still out of tune, and Moris, usually so noisy in the mornings, went into the kitchen silently, with a look on his face that made Herewiss think of a cat with more cream in his bowl than he could possibly finish.
Herewiss reached over to steal Freelorn's mug, and a gulp's worth of honey-water. 'Is she making more?'
Freelorn nodded. 'Be out in a minute, she said.'
Segnbora came down the stairs, pulled out the chair next to Herewiss, and sat down with a thump. She looked a little tired, but she smiled so radiantly at Herewiss that he decided not to ask her how it had been.
'Did you give her our best?' Freelorn asked, cleaning his plate. 'It was mutual, I think.'
Freelorn chuckled. 'I dare say. Where are Lang and Harald?'
'They'll be down — they were washing up a few minutes ago.'
'Good. We should get an early start — if we're going to find this place of yours, I want to hurry up about it. And I would much rather see it in daylight.'
'Lorn, I doubt it's any worse at night.'
'Everything is worse at night. With one exception.'
'Is that all you ever think about?'
'Well, there is something else, actually. But it's easier to make love than it is to make kings.'
Lang came thumping down the stairs and sat down across from Segnbora. 'How was it?'
'Oh please! It was fine.'
'This hold,' Lang said, 'will we be seeing it tomorrow?' 'If the directions I got are right.'
(They are,) Sunspark said from the stable. (Tomorrow easily. I can feel the place from here.)
'Before nightfall?'
'I think so.'
'Good.'
'I wish you people wouldn't worry so much,' Herewiss said. 'It's not haunted, as far as I can tell.'
'—which can't be far. Nobody will go near the place! Morning, Harald.'
'Morning,' Harald sat down across from Herewiss. 'How was she, then?'
Segnbora sighed at the ceiling. 'She was fine. Twice more and I can stop repeating myself . . .'
'Can you blame us for being curious? I mean, a lady like
that—' But as Lang said it, the smile on his face caught Herewiss's eye. A little reflective, that smile, and a little reminiscent, almost wistful . . .
The kitchen door swung open, and Dritt and Moris and the innkeeper came out laden with trays; more eggs, more steaming honey-water and hot apples, with a huge bowl of wheat porridge and a pile of steamed crabs from the river. They put the things down, and as the grabbing and passing commenced, Herewiss looked over the heads of Freelorn's people to catch the lady's eye.
She was back in her work-day garb, the plain homespun shirt and breeches, the boots, the worn gray apron; her hair was braided again into a crown of coiled plaits. Though she was no less beautiful, she seemed to have doffed her power, and Herewiss began to wonder whether much of their night encounter mightn't have been a dream provoked by good wine. But she returned his glance, and smiled, winking at him and patting one of her pockets, which bulged conspicuously. Then back she went into the kitchen.
Herewiss reached for a mug of honey-water, and a plate to put eggs on.
'How was it?' Dritt said to Segnbora.
Segnbora smiled grimly and put a fried egg down his shirt.
When it was time to go, they gathered outside the door that faced the ferry, and the innkeeper brought out their horses. First Lang's and Dritt's, then Harald's and Moris's, and then Segnbora's and Freelorn's. Herewiss watched as the lady spoke a word or two in Segnbora's ear, and when Segnbora smiled back at her, shyly, with affection, Herewiss felt something odd run through him. A pang, a small pain under the breastbone. He laughed at himself, a breath of ruefulness and amusement. Why am I feeling this way? Am I so selfish that I can't stand the thought of someone else sharing Her the same night I did? What silliness. After last night, I'm full in places I didn't even know were empty. Such joy — to know that the Goddess Who made the world and everything in it is holding you and telling you that She loves you, all of you, even the parts that need changing -I should rejoice with Segnbora, for from the look on her face this morning, she has known the joy too . . .
The lady brought out Sunspark last of all. To judge by the arch of his neck and the light grace of his walk, he was in remarkably good temper. When Herewiss took the reins, the lady bent her head close to his.
'It's in the saddlebag,' she said. 'Remember me.' 'I will.'
'I'll remember you. You understand me — somewhat better than most.' And she smiled at him; a little reflective, that smile, a little reminiscent, almost wistful ...
Herewiss swung up on to Sunspark's back; the others were already ahorse, awaiting him.
'Good luck to you all,' said the innkeeper, 'and whatever your business is in the Waste, I hope you come back safe.'
They bade her farewell in a ragged but enthusiastic chorus, and rode off to the ferry. There was not much talk among them until they crossed the river; though Sunspark bespoke Herewiss smugly as they waited for the second group to make the crossing.
(The lady is likely to lose her guests' horses, the way she keeps her stable,) it said.
(Oh?)
(She left my stall open. Did you know there are wild horses hereabouts?)
(It wouldn't surprise me.) (And what horses! Look.)
Herewiss closed his eyes and slipped a little way into Sunspark's mind. It was twilight there, and the plain to the west was softly limned and shadowed by the rising Moon. And standing atop a rise like a statue of ivory and silver, motionless but for the wind in the white mane and the softly glimmering tail, there was a horse. A mare.
(How beautiful,) Herewiss said. (So?) (It was an interesting evening.)
(I thought you didn't understand that kind of union,) Herewiss said.
(The body has its own instincts, it would seem,) Sunspark answered, with a slow inward smile. (It will be interesting to try on a human body and see what happens . . .)
Herewiss withdrew, with just a faint touch of unease. He wasn't sure he wanted to be involved in the experiment that Sunspark was proposing.
(But there was something more to it all than that,) Sunspark went on, sounding pleased and puzzled both at once. (When first I saw . . . her ... I thought she was of my own kind, for she was fire as well. And I was afraid, for I am not yet ready for that union which ends in glory, in the dissolution of selves and the emergence of progeny. Yet . . . there was union . . . and a glory even surpassing that of which I have been told. And I am still one . . .)