said Cadvan harshly, and his face closed against her. “Maerad, you are a child. Don’t bother me with all these questions, at least not now. We have a long way to go.”
Maerad was suddenly furious. “And who are you?” She didn’t care that she was shouting, although her voice echoed loudly in the empty land around them. “You turn up out of nowhere in rags and then expect me to believe you’re some kind of grand person from the west, with your talk of Bards and magic? You could just be a tinker full of tricks, for all I know. And then you tell me I’m just a child, go sit in the corner and be quiet. Shut up, Maerad — you’ll find out later! I’m not a child. I’m sixteen summers old!”
“There are more important things than the vanity of a young girl,” Cadvan said coldly. Maerad realized she was standing before him, her fists clenched, trembling with anger. She flushed.
“I’m
not
a child,” she said again, but with less conviction. All at once she felt very childish. Cadvan looked weary, but his eyes were hard. He turned and began to walk away. Maerad paused awhile and then followed him, afraid of being left behind in this eerie silence. He was walking very fast, and she had to run to catch up. When she did, she didn’t draw even with him, but walked just behind. Her temper had ebbed as suddenly as it had appeared, but she didn’t want to apologize.
They walked in stubborn silence for more than two hours. The sun was warm on their backs now, and Maerad was tiring. Cadvan kept the pace fast, and she was by no means used to this punishing trekking, no matter how trained she was for hard labor. She was too proud to ask him to slow down, and gritted her teeth. She was beginning to hate his straight, unbending back, always before her, always unforgiving. There were still hours to go before sunset, when presumably they would stop, although it was quite possible that Cadvan would insist they keep going through the night. She had just swapped one tyrant for another. . . . When they got to this place they were going, Norloch or whatever it was called, maybe she could find her own way through the world; but for the moment she was stuck with him. Sweat trickled down her face. She was thirsty, and Cadvan had the waterbag.
“We’re making good pace,” said Cadvan, turning at last. Maerad scowled at him, and he looked surprised. “Are you still angry? Put anger aside, child. It’s no use.”
“I’m not a child, I said,” said Maerad sullenly. “Stop treating me like an idiot.”
“If you are not a child, don’t behave like one,” Cadvan snapped. He turned to move off, then stopped, sighing, and turned back to her, holding out his hand. “Maerad, this is ridiculous. I’m sorry. I’m used to traveling alone. If I have been less than courteous to you, forgive me. I’m tired, and we have a long way to go unhoused. And this place worries me; I don’t want to be out in the open tonight. Let’s stop this bickering, yes?”
He held out his hand, and slowly Maerad took it and nodded, swallowing. She felt ungracious, hot, and sulky under Cadvan’s grave gaze.
“I need your help,” he said. “Maerad, be sure there are things that I will tell you, when it is the right time, and that I don’t tell you now because I can’t bear to, not because I think little of you. And there are other things I can’t tell you, because I may not.”
“As you like,” said Maerad. Suddenly she didn’t care. Let him have his secrets.
He gestured southward. “I want to get to a place I know before nightfall,” he said. “It’s not a protection, like the Irihel, but it will be safer than the open. It’s still a league or more hence, and the afternoon is half gone. That’s why I hurry.”
“Can I have a drink of water, please, before we start again?” asked Maerad.
He pulled the waterbag out of his pack and handed it to her, drinking some himself. Then they began their trekking again.
Cadvan led them
Maerad was suddenly furious. “And who are you?” She didn’t care that she was shouting, although her voice echoed loudly in the empty land around them. “You turn up out of nowhere in rags and then expect me to believe you’re some kind of grand person from the west, with your talk of Bards and magic? You could just be a tinker full of tricks, for all I know. And then you tell me I’m just a child, go sit in the corner and be quiet. Shut up, Maerad — you’ll find out later! I’m not a child. I’m sixteen summers old!”
“There are more important things than the vanity of a young girl,” Cadvan said coldly. Maerad realized she was standing before him, her fists clenched, trembling with anger. She flushed.
“I’m
not
a child,” she said again, but with less conviction. All at once she felt very childish. Cadvan looked weary, but his eyes were hard. He turned and began to walk away. Maerad paused awhile and then followed him, afraid of being left behind in this eerie silence. He was walking very fast, and she had to run to catch up. When she did, she didn’t draw even with him, but walked just behind. Her temper had ebbed as suddenly as it had appeared, but she didn’t want to apologize.
They walked in stubborn silence for more than two hours. The sun was warm on their backs now, and Maerad was tiring. Cadvan kept the pace fast, and she was by no means used to this punishing trekking, no matter how trained she was for hard labor. She was too proud to ask him to slow down, and gritted her teeth. She was beginning to hate his straight, unbending back, always before her, always unforgiving. There were still hours to go before sunset, when presumably they would stop, although it was quite possible that Cadvan would insist they keep going through the night. She had just swapped one tyrant for another. . . . When they got to this place they were going, Norloch or whatever it was called, maybe she could find her own way through the world; but for the moment she was stuck with him. Sweat trickled down her face. She was thirsty, and Cadvan had the waterbag.
“We’re making good pace,” said Cadvan, turning at last. Maerad scowled at him, and he looked surprised. “Are you still angry? Put anger aside, child. It’s no use.”
“I’m not a child, I said,” said Maerad sullenly. “Stop treating me like an idiot.”
“If you are not a child, don’t behave like one,” Cadvan snapped. He turned to move off, then stopped, sighing, and turned back to her, holding out his hand. “Maerad, this is ridiculous. I’m sorry. I’m used to traveling alone. If I have been less than courteous to you, forgive me. I’m tired, and we have a long way to go unhoused. And this place worries me; I don’t want to be out in the open tonight. Let’s stop this bickering, yes?”
He held out his hand, and slowly Maerad took it and nodded, swallowing. She felt ungracious, hot, and sulky under Cadvan’s grave gaze.
“I need your help,” he said. “Maerad, be sure there are things that I will tell you, when it is the right time, and that I don’t tell you now because I can’t bear to, not because I think little of you. And there are other things I can’t tell you, because I may not.”
“As you like,” said Maerad. Suddenly she didn’t care. Let him have his secrets.
He gestured southward. “I want to get to a place I know before nightfall,” he said. “It’s not a protection, like the Irihel, but it will be safer than the open. It’s still a league or more hence, and the afternoon is half gone. That’s why I hurry.”
“Can I have a drink of water, please, before we start again?” asked Maerad.
He pulled the waterbag out of his pack and handed it to her, drinking some himself. Then they began their trekking again.
Cadvan led them
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