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because Kith flushed.
    â€œNever mind,” I said. “Give him some time. Duck and I will do just fine. Remember, I’ve been over the trail before—with you, as I recall.”
    He looked blank for a moment, then grinned. “And wasn’t your father fit to be tied about it, too? I’d forgotten that. Quill and I hiked up the Hob to spend our first night alone, feeling all grown-up and daring. Got to the place we were going to camp, and there was his skinny baby sister. Never did tell us how you got there ahead of us.”
    I laughed. “I was afraid to. I knew Quill would tell Father, and I’d never step out of the house again. I climbed the cliffs straight up rather than taking the route you did. It cut miles from the trip, but about halfway up, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.”
    He shook his head, and shifted his weight so Torch started back up the trail. “Always did have a fool’s courage, I’ll say that for you. See you in the morning.”
    â€œSee you,” I said, watching him ride away. With the suddenness of spring, the wind chose that moment to turn cool, sending a chill down my spine—a chill that somehow reminded me of dark skin and cinnamon eyes.

THREE
    T he streets were empty in the predawn hours. Duck’s unshod hooves hit the dirt road quietly. A few dogs barked as I rode past their houses, but I didn’t see any people until we neared the inn.
    Merewich stood with Albrin. Even from a distance I could tell they were arguing fiercely, though in tones so hushed I didn’t even catch the echoes of their voices. Beside them, isolated by the stone-grim expression on his face, Kith stood looking out at the darkened streets, absently rubbing his hand against the side of Torch’s face. The gelding was the first to notice our approach.
    Alerted by his horse’s fixed attention, Kith said something to the other two men. By the time I rode into the inn’s cobbled courtyard, both Merewich and Kith’s father had subsided into silence.
    Kith nodded in greeting. “Wandel is saddling his horse, then we’ll leave.”
    I gave him a half-smile, but my attention was on Albrin, who turned his head aside as if he could not see me. I swallowed uncomfortably. Albrin had taught me how to ride and where the best strawberries grew in the spring.
    Merewich patted my knee, talking as if Albrin couldn’t hear him. “Give him time. I’ve talked with the priest, and he believes—as do I—that we haven’t seen the worst of this. Brother Tolleck is something of a scriptural scholar. He says there’ll be dark days ahead, and I find myself agreeing with him. Something rather worse than a few raiders. Mind that you keep your eyes open.”
    I nodded my head, turning away from Albrin to meet the old man’s eyes. “I will.”
    Wandel came from the stable with his sweet-faced, creamy-white mare, and stepped into the saddle. He moved like a man several decades younger than he was—almost like Kith. I frowned, wondering why a harper moved like a soldier.
    â€œMy dear,” he exclaimed, seeing Duck’s bridle for the first time, “what are you using for a bridle? It looks like it’s made of knotted rags.”
    I grinned at him, though the expression felt odd after so long. “It is—but it’s a hackamore, no bit. Raiders took every scrap of leather in the barn. This was the best I was able to come up with. It’s not as if Duck needs much more than a reminder now and again.”
    Duck stretched his nose toward the little mare. She let him in range, but then her small ears flattened and her eyes rolled wickedly as she snapped her teeth at him. Hurt and indignant, Duck pulled his muzzle out of harm’s reach.
    â€œThe Lass doesn’t like other horses,” commented Wandel needlessly.
    â€œOr children,” said Merewich.
    â€œOr dogs,” added Kith with a faint