He carried his sleeping roll to his bay and secured it to the saddle. He sensed that Q'Daer was watching him. The Fal'Borna would no doubt start asking him questions as soon as he had the opportunity. Glancing in the man's direction, Grinsa saw that he already had his sleeping roll and was striding toward his own horse, which was grazing near Grinsa's.
Grinsa hurried to secure the saddle. Finishing just as Q'Daer reached him he nodded to the man and then led his horse away, forestalling their conversation, at least for the moment.
"I'm going to check on the Eandi," he said, looking back at Q'Daer. "We'll leave as soon as they're ready."
The Fal'Borna stared after him, a slight frown on his youthful face. "You were right about the merchant," he called. "I didn't think he'd come hack, but you were right."
Grinsa faltered in midstride, nodded without looking back, and continued walking.
He was surprised to find that the two merchants weren't together. He found Jasha standing near what was left of their fire, gazing at the ground and looking troubled. Torgan was standing by his horse still, watching the younger man from a distance.
"Are you ready to ride?" Grinsa asked.
Jasha looked up, seeming to rouse himself, as if from a slumber. "Yes."
"What about Torgan?"
"You'll have to ask him yourself."
Grinsa frowned. "What happened?"
That of all things drew a laugh from the merchant. "What do you think happened? Torgan's an ass."
Grinsa smiled. "Forgive me, Jasha, but Torgan's been an ass for a long time. What's changed?"
Jasha shook his head and stared off to the east, his smile gone, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just now starting to see how bad he is. Or maybe I've changed, and I don't tolerate it as well."
"You have to."
"What?"
"I know he's difficult," Grinsa said. "But you're the only one of us he'll talk to, and we need him if we're going to find these merchants. We need both of you. All three of us are risking a good deal by turning west instead of continuing to the east. We have to find the merchants as quickly as possible so that we can get back to hunting down this Mettai woman. So we need to work together."
Jasha didn't look pleased, but he nodded. "All right. Later, though. Please? I just need some time away from him."
Grinsa grinned and patted his shoulder. "Of course. I understand." He let his gaze slide toward Q'Daer before looking at Jasha again. "Better than you think."
The young merchant smiled.
A short while later, they were riding again, cutting northwestward across the plain. Torgan rode at the rear, as usual, with Jasha a short distance ahead of him. Grinsa led them, and Q'Daer followed just behind. Once more, Grinsa sensed that the Fal'Borna wanted to speak with him, but had hesitated to start a conversation.
For the first hour or so, that suited Grinsa. He couldn't avoid the man forever, though, and so eventually he slowed his mount, allowing Q'Daer to pull abreast of him.
"You have things you want to say to me," Grinsa said, staring straight ahead.
For a long time the young Weaver didn't answer, until finally Grinsa chanced a look at him. His expression was similar to the one Grinsa had seen on Jasha's face just a short time before. Q'Daer appeared young and puzzled and perhaps even weary. It occurred to Grinsa that as anxious as he was to rejoin his family, Q'Daer must have been just as eager to return to his home. He knew he should have realized this sooner, and he was chagrined that he hadn't.
"I'm trying to understand you," the Fal'Borna finally said. "On the one hand you fight me at every turn. You refuse to submit to the a'laq's authority. You make it clear that you don't respect Fal'Borna ways. And you make it equally clear that you wish to leave our sept as soon as you can. But then you turn around and abandon our mission-this one chance you have to win your way free of us-in order to save the lives of Fal'Borna who you haven't even met."
"Yes," Grinsa said dryly, "I've been trying to figure that out, as well."
"You're either the stupidest man I've ever met, or the most selfless."
He had to grin. "Couldn't it be both?" He glanced at Q'Daer and they shared a rare smile.
"Yes, perhaps it could. But that only confuses me more."
"It's not that hard to understand, Q'Daer. I've never hated your people, or your a'laq, or even you, despite what you might think. I just want to find a place where Cresenne and I can live and raise our daughter as we see fit. And yet, as much as I want that, I can't just let your people be killed when there's a chance that we can stop it from happening." He turned to face the man. "Doesn't that make sense? Is it really so hard to believe that I could be torn between my love of my family and my desire to save these lives?"
The Fal'Borna's eyes narrowed and he faced forward again. "You're a most unusual man, Forelander. The answer is, yes, it does make sense and yes, it is that hard to believe. In my land, clan is everything. Right now, you are the leader of a clan of three. For the moment at least, you've chosen to help my clan at the expense of your own. To a Fal'Borna-or, for that matter, a J'Balanar or a Talm'Orast or any other Southlands Qirsi-that's a strange choice to make. But it strikes me as being… noble, as well." He shook his head slowly. "I need to think about this more."
Grinsa nodded. "Of course." He started to ride ahead again, then fell back once more. "Thank you, Q'Daer."
"For what?"
"I didn't want to talk about this, but I'm glad we did."
Q'Daer started to say something, but then stopped himself, his eyes fixed on something to the north. Grinsa turned to look that way as well, and at first saw nothing.
"What is it?" he asked.
"I thought I saw a cart on the horizon."
They both slowed to a halt, still gazing northward. After some time Grinsa began to wonder if Q'Daer had imagined it. But then the Fal'Borna pointed.
"There." He stood in his stirrups. "They've turned. I think they're trying to avoid us."
Grinsa stood as well, and after scanning the plain for several moments finally spotted what the Fal'Borna had seen. It was little more than a dark speck in the distance and he was amazed that Q'Daer had noticed it at all, much less known what it was. But the form was definitely creeping along the horizon, angling away from them.
"A merchant?" Grinsa asked.
"Quite likely. But we should find out for certain."
Looking back at the two Eandi, Q'Daer signaled to them that they should turn to the north. And the four of them rode toward that distant dark form.
Chapter 11
F'MENUA'S SEPT, THE CENTRAL, PLAIN
Snice the day Cresenne ja Terba had arrived in this settlement with Grinsa and little Bryntelle she had known that she had no standing of her own among the Fal'Borna. They were a patriarchal clan who judged men by the magics they wielded and their skills in battle. As a Weaver, Grinsa had been welcomed immediately. The Fal'Borna saw in him a man who could make them stronger in the eyes of friend and foe alike.
But though Cresenne wielded three magics of her own-fire, healing, and gleaning-and back in the Forelands had been viewed as a powerful sorcerer in her own right, here she was seen as little more than a companion for Grinsa, and a poor one at that. Among the Fal'Borna, Weavers were expected to be joined to Weavers. Since she was just an ordinary Qirsi, the men and women of E'Menua's sept did not recognize her as Grinsa's wife. When first they arrived, everyone referred to her as his "concubine." Grinsa and she took exception, and by and large the Fal'Borna stopped calling her this, but that was still how they treated her. And she never doubted that most of the Fal'Borna considered Bryntelle Grinsa's bastard child.
Cresenne had made peace with all of this; at least she had tried. Occasionally she still overheard people speaking of her as "the concubine" and speculating on who Grinsa might eventually marry, and it made her blood boil. But for now at least she and Bryntelle were stuck here, and Cresenne knew she had little choice but to endure these slights as best she could.