He was aware of Emuin, too, on the road and uncomfortable, and that venture into the gray space seemed riskier than in the daytime. Perhaps it wasthe weather, with the wind keening around the eaves of what was a strange lodging, even once visited. He had had his way today in sunlight, but the clouds were moving in again. The shadows which abounded in the cluttered edges of the common room leapt and flowed like the firelight as wind fluttered down the chimney… not wicked Shadows, but there were a few more dangerous ones, he suspected, among the natural ones.

He was glad when Uwen came back, after, it seemed to him, too long a time.

“The lord abbot’s right pleased, and the captain and all.”

“Why should the captain be pleased?”

Uwen ducked his head somewhat and seemed to have said a small word too much.

“On account of the luck. Havin’ a lord do things for luck, it makes a soldier happier.”

“The soldiers are unhappy?”

“Well, there’s some as is anxious about Your Grace, that’s the truth, with the lightning and all. But,” Uwen added, cheerfully, “they ain’t sorry to be here, counting ye a lord that wins his battles, m’lord, which is a long sight better ’n one that don’t.”

“It seems I hardly won the one against the Quinalt.”

“I don’t think it were the Quinalt that done ye wrong, m’lord, an’ so say others.”

He looked straight at Uwen, and Uwen, with something he had gathered himself to say, went on:

“Likeliest Murandys, maybe Ryssand, is what they’re sayin’ around the fire. Some thinks it was magical, but others says it’s again’ His Majesty on account of Her Grace, which the barons don’t like… Murandys is the name some say.”

Uwen had a knack for hearing things, in the kitchens, in the stables, with the common men wherever he was, and most particularly with grooms and soldiers. He paid attention when Uwen told him such things, and trusted Uwen’s estimations as much as he trusted Idrys’ warnings.

“Is Cefwyn in danger?” he asked. That had to be asked first.

“Not so’s ye’d say, in danger, m’lord, as folk think. It’s that the barons in the north was accustomed to goin’ on their own advice in the old king’s reign. I’m talking above myself, here, but the old king favored ’em and His Majesty don’t, and I pray to the gods His Majesty gets before ’em soon an’ checks ’em hard.”

Gods were much in his thinking lately, and unresolved. But he was entertaining less and less hope of them. “I wish he may. What more should I wish?”

Uwen looked squarely at him, understanding what he meant, he was well sure. At times he longed for Uwen to know more than he did, and to be able to advise him, as Emuin refused to do.

But Uwen set his own limits. “I couldn’t judge, m’lord. Truly, don’t ye ask me. I can’t tell ye what’s right. All the same I trust your heart, m’lord; ye’ve done naught but good to me. And good to His Majesty. He’s on his throne, and I wouldn’t say His Grace of Murandys is safe if he crosses the Marhanen, not an hour.”

“Yet Cefwyn wouldn’t do any man harm. He has no wish to do it.”

“That’s so, m’lord, but he is a king. And kings ain’t common men, as goes wi’out saying.”

“Nor am I.”

“No, m’lord, ye ain’t.” Uwen gave a great breath, as that damning statement hung there, and they neither one could mend that, nor mend what had sundered him from the place he had longed to have.

“The whole household come wi’ ye, m’lord. Lusin and them has all left the king’s service for good an’ all, to come wi’ ye.”

“I am grateful,” he said, but had no idea what more to say, when men put themselves and all their substance at risk on the currents that swept him up and carried him here and there in the world. To follow him seemed an unreasonable choice in men who might have had peaceful lives. And at the moment he saw his servants and his guards alike waiting at the side of the room, on benches, some, or squatting down to talk to comrades, none asleep, none appearing impatient of the long day’s travel.

He found no gods in this place, no more than in the Quinaltine. He hoped for the safe rest and peaceful dreams of all the men with him. The Lines were well-ordered here, at the least, a greater comfort and source of strength than the famed water. “The household should go to their beds,” he said, “you among the first. I may sit here a while by the fire.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Uwen said quietly, and went and spoke to Lusin and Tassand. The staff moved quietly off to the hall.

But when Uwen came back alone and settled close by the fire, he was not surprised. Uwen maintained his solitary watch, armed, but not heavily so, wary, but nodding sometimes. “How’s Emuin farin’?” Uwen asked at last.

“Master Emuin has had to stop,” he said quietly.

Emuin was at least warm, if damp, and the cold wind was catching the canvas that sheltered him, an intermittent thumping. “Has Captain Anwyll gone to bed?”

“The captain’s turned in, aye. I said I’d watch.”

“You might make a pallet.”

“Ye might lie down on your own bed, young m’lord.”

“I shall. I shall, Uwen. But just now the fire is warm.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

A question nagged his peace. “Does he fear me, the captain?”

“He’s Quinalt, an’ ain’t never dealt with wizards. Ye do set a body back a little with your seein’ master Emuin, m’lord.”

“Doubtless so.”

Tristen watched the flames, wondering did he dare sleep, and asking himself whether they should simply wait here until tomorrow evening and until master Emuin might overtake them. He had let the captain go to his bed without discussing the notion. But he still might propose it at breakfast, which they did propose to have, before they hitched the wagons. Delaying another day could have risk, once the messenger had reached Amefel and let loose his news in a town known for unrest. If the town expected a thing to happen in a certain number of days and it failed, speculation started, and men did unwise things.

Meanwhile Uwen’s head nodded and his chin sank on his breast. And in the gray space, softly, subtly, as Tristen watched the fire, Emuin was with him, a wisp of a presence, a comfort in the shadowy dark.

A wind seemed to blow through the gray, tattering edges. Emuin’s presence grew more attenuated still, butwhether he was as thin and insubstantial to Emuin he could not say. He resisted all temptation to reach out and hold on to the old man by his own strength. There had been risk in speaking like this in Guelemara, the chance of being spied upon; and he was not sure, resting among so many priests and monks, whether it was entirely safe to make such an approach.

But there was also a decision to make.

— Shall I bid the company wait?he asked master Emuin. We might stay here tomorrow.

The wind blew stronger. And colder.

— Master Emuin? Are you well?

— Be careful!Emuin said, a mere wisp now. Beware, young lord!

Something crossed the wind, shadowed it for a moment, uncommon in his venturing here.

— What is that?he began to ask. And in alarm: Is someone there?

— No!Emuin caught at him, but wafted backward as if the wind had blown him, sailed away and down like the leaf from the hilltop. Don’t pursue me. Don’t look. Don’t ask, don’t wonder. I fear shadows in that direction, young lord. I do fear them. Perhaps I see them more clearly where I stand. But this is altogether an uneasy night. Go!

Distances here were not the same. At one moment Emuin had as well have been in Guelemara, in the next as solidly as if he were in the monastery, and yet Emuin had not stirred from his camp nor he from his chair.

And beyond… beyond and in some direction he could not equate with the chair or the fireside… was an Edge of the sort he had learned was dangerous. It was death … or it was at least a loss of some sort. He had seen it appear with Uleman, the lord Regent, Her Grace’s father, and lost him very soon after. Of a sudden he was afraid for Emuin, and was amazed how very like Mauryl Emuin had become, with his hair and beard far whiter since summer. It shone, in the light there was. He could easily mistake one for the other.