(What happened to the mare?)
(Oh, she lived,) Sunspark said with a flick of its golden tail. (By your standards or by mine?)
(Yours. Even had things not gone as they did, I would have been far too interested to have consumed her.)
(I'm glad to hear it . . .)
Herewiss opened his eyes to watch Segnbora, Dritt, and Freelorn approach, pulling on the ferry-rope. Dritt was facing back toward the opposite bank, looking at the lone figure that stood and watched them. Experimentally, Herewiss reached out with his underhearing. He caught a faint wash of sorrow from Dritt, overlaid and made bearable by an odd sheen of bright memory. Then the perception was gone.
Something was strange. When the group was assembled again and once more riding eastward into the rocky flats, Herewiss rode up to Freelorn's side and beckoned him apart.
'A personal question, Lorn—' he said softly.
'Yes, I did.'
'Did what?'
'Sleep with her last night.' He said it a little guiltily, shooting a glance at Segnbora out of the corner of his eye. 'Before she did, I guess. And let me tell you, she was—'
'Please, Lorn.'
'Listen, I didn't -I mean—'
'Lorn, how long has it been since something like that mattered with us? You love me. I know that. I have no fears.'
'Yes, well . . .'
'Besides,' Herewiss said, grinning wickedly, 'so did I.' Freelorn laughed. 'She gets around, doesn't she?' 'It looks that way.'
'Just out of curiosity — what time was it when you—'
'About Moonrise — yes, I remember the Moon coming up. I had a lot of wine, but that much is — Lorn, what's wrong?'
Freelorn was shaking his head and frowning. 'Couldn't have been.' 'Couldn't have been what?'
'Moonrise. Because she was with me at Moonrise.'
Herewiss sat there and felt it again — that odd hot thrill of excitement, of anticipation. But different, somehow sharper in the daylight than it had been in the twilight.
'Segnbora,' he called.
She reined Steelsheen back and joined them. 'What, then?' 'This is a little personal, granted—' 'And I didn't save any eggs. Oh, well.'
'No, no. I was just wondering. What time was it when you and the lady were together?'
'Now it's funny you should mention that—' 'Oh?'
'—because I just overheard Dritt discussing that same subject with Harald. And he was saying that the lady had visited him about the time the Moon came up, and I was . . . thinking . . .'
She looked at them for a long few seconds, and Freelorn blushed suddenly and became very interested in Black-mane's withers. Herewiss watched Segnbora. She stared for a few seconds at the reins she held, and then looked over at him again.
'It was the Bride, then.'
He nodded.
When she spoke again, the sound of her voice startled Herewiss. Her words went gentle with awe, and Herewiss had heard women take the Oath to the Queen of Silence with less reverence, less love. 'You didn't ask,' she said, 'and I will tell you. No sharing I have ever known was like last night. Oh, give as you will, there's only so much that can be shared in one evening, or one day, before the body gives out, gets sore, gets tired. There's always some one place left uncherished, some corner of the heart not touched, or not enough — and you shrug and say, "Oh, well, next time." And next time that one place may be caressed to satisfaction, but others are missed. You make your peace with it, eventually, and give all you can so that your own ignored places feel warmer for the giving. But last night — oh, last night. All, all of me, all the depths, the corners, the little fantasies I never dared to — the sheer delight, to open up and know that there's no harm in the sharing anywhere, only love—' She turned her face away; Herewiss could feel her filling up with tears. 'To have Her slide into bed behind me,' Segnbora said quietly, 'and put Her arms around me, and hold my breasts in Her warm hands, and then slip down a little and kiss the lonely place between my shoulderblades that always wanted a kiss, and never got one. And without asking . . .'
She smiled, and let the tears fall.
Freelorn looked up at Herewiss again, and he was smiling too. 'It was like that,' he said. 'Funny, though, I wasn't expecting it so soon.'
'She never comes to share Herself when you expect Her,' Herewiss said. 'That's half the joy right there.'
Freelorn nodded.
'How She must love us,' Herewiss said. 'To share with us all, to give us so very much -I can't understand it. Just for my own part, even. What incredible thing have I done, or will I do, to earn — to deserve such, such blessing, so much love . . .'
'You're reason enough,' Freelorn said, very quietly. 'And, besides, She cherishes what's returned. What could we possibly give the Mother that She couldn't make better Herself, except love? She could make us love Her — but it wouldn't be the same.'
Herewiss reached out and took Freelorn's hand. 'I was thinking mostly in terms of you, Lorn.'
Freelorn chuckled, squeezed Herewiss's hand hard.
'And anyway,' he added after a moment, 'She can afford to be generous. They say that most of the time She drives a hard bargain.'
Herewiss looked down at his front saddlebag, and at the slight bulge in it.
'That's what I hear,' he said.
7
Memory is a mirror — but even the clearest mirror reverses right to left.
When frogs fell all around them out of the clear hot sky, smacking into the dust and sand with understandable grunts and squeaks, the party was surprised, but not too much so. When it hailed real stones, instead of ice, they covered their heads with helms or shields and made small jokes about the quality of the weather in this part of the Waste. When, while climbing a rise, they noticed that the rocks dislodged by their horses' hooves were rolling up the hill after them, they shrugged and kept on riding.
There it is,' Herewiss said. He pointed through the blown dustclouds at a low gray shape on the horizon.
'Are you sure it's there?' Freelorn said. 'Look how it wobbles.'
'That's heat, and this damn dust. We'll be there in an hour or so, I would say.'
'What are those?' Lang muttered, shielding his eyes. 'Towers?'
'Hard to tell from here. We'll see when we get closer.'
They cantered on across the desert. Herewiss was in high good spirits, expectant as a little boy at Opening Night waiting for the fireworks to start. To some extent it was infectious. Most of Freelorn's people were joking and straining their eyes ahead in anticipation; Segnbora was rigidly upright in the saddle, her sword loose in its sheath.
Sunspark was requiring constant reminders to maintain contact with the ground. But Freelorn was frowning, resolutely refusing to get excited.
'Well,' he said, 'we haven't been eaten alive yet. But I reserve judgement until we leave.'
'We? Lorn, if the place is safe, I'm staying.' 'Not for long, surely.' 'For as long as I have to.'
'You don't mean you're planning to live there for any length of time!'
'Uh-huh.'
'You,' Freelorn said with frank irritation, 'are a crazy person.'
'You know us Brightwood people,' Herewiss said, 'the only sure thing about us—'
'Is that you're all nuts,' Freelorn said, refusing to finish the quote. 'Let's see what the place is like before you make up your mind.'
'Who's that?' Harald yelled. His eyesight was better than anyone else's, and for a moment they all squinted through the dust at the faint figure ahead of them.
'No horse,' Segnbora said. 'No tent, nothing—' 'No-one lives out here!' Moris said.
'Not for long, anyway, without a horse or a water supply,' Herewiss said. 'Let's see who it is — could be they need help—'