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smile.
    â€œOr women,” agreed the harper, who wasn’t above using his horse’s peculiarities as fodder for song—or, I could see, to defuse tension. “I had the prettiest little wife once….”
    â€œCome on,” said Kith. “If we don’t start now, he’ll be here telling stories until the sun goes down.”
    Wandel shook his head and handed his mare off to Albrin. “Aren can’t ride bareback the whole way. Let me find a saddle for her to use in the stable.”
    He came out with a saddle, blanket, and saddlebags. While I saddled Duck, he mounted his gray mare. I divided my bundle evenly between the two saddlebags he’d brought out. I walked Duck out before checking the cinch. It was a little loose, so I tightened it before mounting. I took my time, refusing to give in to the awkward silence that hung over the courtyard by hurrying.
    â€œWandel, old friend,” said Merewich, finally breaking the silence.
    The harper smiled, and gripped the elder’s hand firmly. “Until next season, then.” He turned to Kith’s father. “Albrin.”
    Albrin shook his hand, but when he turned to his son, Kith rode out without speaking.

    W E USED THE TOWN BRIDGE TO CROSS ONTO THE LORD’S side of the river. The lord’s fields were already tipped with green as the earliest of the crops sprouted, having been planted several weeks before the village’s.
    It took several miles for the horses to find a comfortable pace for traveling together. Kith’s horse was used to traveling with large groups, but the harper’s mare liked to choose her own pace. Then there was Duck. He had a ground-eating, syncopated walk that was too fast for either of the smaller horses: his alternative was the gait he used when plowing, which was too slow. Only when the animals decided that they had to travel together did things calm down.
    There were serfs in the farther fields. The manor and lands were smallish for a lord’s house, or so I’d been told. Lord Moresh had several much larger elsewhere. I didn’t know how many serfs he had to work the land because they seldom came to the village and were discouraged from conversing with the freemen, but I supposed them to be fewer than fifty.
    A work party of six men was clearing the irrigation ditches of winter’s debris. None of them looked up, though I rode less than a long stride from several of them.
    Farther on, a woman piled the burnable rubbish on a small donkey cart. She might have ignored our passage as well, if Wandel’s mare hadn’t decided to take exception to the beast.
    Snorting and dancing, she skittered halfway across the road—startling the poor donkey rather badly. The woman dropped her bundle of dry sticks and ran to the donkey’s head. Briefly her eyes met mine.
    Wandel controlled his mount, then swept a flourishing bow. “My apologies, lady. My mare is overset by having such a large audience for her antics.” The Lass snorted and shook her head, mouthing her bit impatiently.
    Head bowed, the woman nodded, clearly waiting for us to move on so she could get back to her task. I noticed that her hands were shaking—in fear of Wandel? I looked at the minstrel, but, clad in his usual bright-colored foppery, he appeared no more dangerous to me than a hound pup.
    I rode on, thinking about what I’d lost and what that woman would never have. I stored the sight of the other’s lifeless eyes and trembling hands in my memory, to be brought out should the temptation to feel sorry for myself return. At least I’d had a family to lose—and I wasn’t prey for any man who happened by.

    B Y MIDMORNING WE REACHED THE END OF THE CULTIVATED fields. Choosing a deer trail with seeming randomness, Kith led us into the dense, thorn-infested woods beyond. I hadn’t been out this way since I was a child without the chores of adulthood. The trails tended to change