If you weren't so indecisive, I wouldn't have had to break away so abruptly, she snapped back at him.

Her meaning came across instantly, along with her contempt. He looked up to see her glaring at him. Indecisive? he sent back. I don't call walking seven days to Tyr on two days' rations a decision. I call that stupidity.

Oh, so what would you rather do? Wait here? Go back to the elves and say we're sorry, will they take us back in?

That's a better idea than just walking on into the desert. If you hadn't got us in trouble there in the first place, we-

Me? You're the one who got us in trouble. You and your stupid cloud ray.

Jedra climbed shakily to his feet. I was looking for Sahalik, which I would never have had to do if you hadn't chased him out of camp.

Kayan stood up, too, and though she only came up to the middle of his chest, she looked ready to take him on with bare hands at any moment. Oh, yeah? And what was I supposed to do, let him have his filthy way with me just so we could stay with your precious elves? Was I supposed to buy their hospitality with my body?

Jedra clenched and unclenched his fists. You could have let him down easy, he said. You didn't have to humiliate him in front of the whole tribe.

I did, too. Kayan turned away and picked up her pack. Of course if you had been more decisive when he first showed up, maybe I wouldn't have, but when he realized you were a pushover, he-

Oh, so that's my fault now, too! Jedra grabbed his own pack off the sand and tied it closed, then swung it onto his back. He picked up the spear with its rag tied to the end and slung that over his shoulder, wincing at the sore spot where it had rested during the last march. Well let me tell you something, miss high-and-mighty ex-templar, I didn't get us into this mess. You did. You and your-

Cloud ray, she said. Cloud ray, cloud ray, cloud ray. That's why we got kicked out of the tribe. I had us living in the chief's tent until you pulled that stunt. Arrgghh! Jedra growled, an inarticulate bellow of rage. She'd twisted things around in a circle again.

He stomped off with the rag end of the spear bent low in front of him, sweeping for sand cactus.

Where are you going? Kayan demanded.

Jedra stopped. He'd struck out to the north, he realized. Toward Urik, the only place he'd ever called home. But Urik was nearly twice as far away as anyplace else they could go, the entire distance through open desert. He looked toward the east, where the sky was just beginning to show the first glow of approaching dawn. Only hostile elves and the tablelands lay in that direction. The south was no better. Reluctantly, he turned westward and began walking. I guess I'm going to Tyr, he said.

One good thing about anger, Jedra thought an hour or so later-it completely overrode the exhaustion he'd expected to feel after their convergence. He and Kayan had already walked farther this morning than they'd gone in either of their previous marches, and the sun hadn't even cleared the horizon yet. The last stars were fading before them, though, and it wouldn't be long before the temperature began to rise. Who would have thought there could be so much change in so barren a landscape? Hot enough to cook meat on a rock during the day, and cold enough to freeze it at night; full of vegetation and lizards and other small animals just a day to the east, but practically empty here. A person couldn't count on anything in the desert.

He increased his pace, eager to get out of the desert.

Hey, Kayan mindsent. You're already going too fast. Your legs are longer than mine.

I thought you wanted to get to Tyr, he replied without turning his head, but he slowed down.

The sun had been up for a couple of hours before they spoke again. Your shoulders are going to get sunburned,

Kayan sent.

I know, Jedra responded. His pack covered some of the rips the cactus had made in his robe, but not all of them. Shouldn't you turn your robe around or something? They were walking on much rockier ground now, the sand underfoot littered with pebbles and stones. Occasional reddish-yellow boulders dotted the landscape as well. Jedra paused beside one such boulder, letting his danger sense tell him if anything was hiding behind it, and when he was sure it was safe he relaxed a bit and said, I suppose I should.

He took off his pack and dropped it to the ground, handed Kayan the spear, then pulled his arms through his sleeves and twisted the robe around. When he stuck his arms out again the cloth felt tight across his neck, but most of the holes the cactus had ripped in it were in front. He put his pack on and took back the spear, then started walking again.

Jedra, Kayan sent.

What?

Couldn't we at least rest for a minute?

Rest. That sounded good. Trouble was, in his depression, would he ever start out again?

He would have to find out sometime. All right, he said, turning around and walking back to the boulder where Kayan still waited.

They sat down in the shade and each took a drink from Kayan's waterskin. Her honeycakes beckoned from within her pack, but neither she nor Jedra took one. They would eat during the hottest part of the day, when they stopped for shelter from the sun.

After a minute or so of awkward silence, Kayan said aloud, "Jedra, I'm sorry I said all those things. I was just frustrated and tired. I don't really think that about you." "You can't lie in a mindlink," Jedra said.

You can too, Kayan sent. She laughed, and when Jedra looked puzzled she said, "Think about it."

He tried to work out the logic of it, and finally he admitted, "All right, maybe you can. But you still said it. You wanted it to be true." "I didn't either. I wanted to hurt you." He looked at her as if she'd just said she planned to stab him in the back. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"Of course it is," she said. She shook her head to flip her hair back out of her eyes. "Look, we were mad at each other. When you're mad, you say things to hurt each other. You don't necessarily mean them."

"Oh," Jedra said. He looked at her again, really looked at her for the first time that day. She certainly seemed sincere, with her green eyes open wide and her round face full of concern. Jedra felt himself relax a little. "I supposed that's another thing I don't know much about," he said.

"What, fighting?"

"Yeah." He looked away again, out over the desert. "The whole world seems to thrive on it, but I've never understood why. What good does it do? People hurt each other all the time, usually for the stupidest reasons. They kill each other because of an insult, or sometimes just for something to do. Some people are always looking for fights."

"Like Sahalik," Kayan said.

"Yeah, like Sahalik." Jedra looked back at her. "I don't know. Maybe you didn't have anything to do with that. I'm a half-elf; he probably would have found an excuse to challenge me even if you'd been nicer to him." "Maybe." Kayan shrugged. "I guess I could have tried anyway."

"You're a pacifist," said Kayan, true wonder in her voice. "That's incredible."

"Why?"

"Because of where you come from. Most people who grow up on the streets just take it as given that they have to fight for survival. For someone like you to figure out that there might be a better way, well, that's pretty unusual."

Jedra wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, but he decided to take it as one. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," she said. She blushed, then leaned closer to him. "I'm sorry I got you mad. Kiss and make up?"

He wasn't sure if he had gotten completely over his anger yet, but he suddenly realized he was going to have to practice what he'd just preached. He supposed it could have been worse, though.