12

Fifthday, 12 Greening, 976

Larine dropped a generous tip into Kalvanen’s cup. The singer’s tenor voice was nowhere near as good as Semira’s soprano, but it was pleasant enough, and he accompanied himself on a small harp with skillful fingers. More important to Larine, he had an easy-going temperament and a calming, encouraging influence on his audience. In the year since he’d taken over as the Hall’s usual evening entertainment, Larine had enjoyed the music far more than she had during Semira’s tenure.

He raised an eyebrow as he settled his harp in his lap. “I take it you have a request? Or several, for that amount.”

Larine glanced around to make sure no one was listening and lowered her voice. “I’d appreciate it if for the rest of the evening you could avoid anything Semira favored.”

Kalvanen’s other eyebrow rose to join the first. “Easy enough.” His eyes darted past Larine. “I don’t suppose I need to ask why.”

Her face warmed, but there was no point trying to contradict his assumption. “It’s been more than a year.”

“That it has.” He plucked an arpeggio. The sweet notes shimmered in the air. “I’ll do what I can. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Larine took a deep breath, dropped her hand to Daisy’s head for courage, and made her way across the dining hall through the relaxing, socializing wizards. She approached the round table near the wall where Hanion sat alone, leafing through a thick book with frequent pauses to take notes. She strove to keep her voice casual. “Mind if I join you?”

Hanion jerked his head up. He blinked, swallowed, glanced around. “Sure.” He shrugged. “If you don’t mind the quiet.

“Not at all.” Larine settled into the seat next to him. “What are you working on?”

Hanion waved vaguely at the tomes spread around him on the table. “Dabiel asked me to research the techniques the Herders’ Guild uses to develop new breeds. She thinks we may be able to help them identify which animals are most resistant to certain diseases so they can be bred and pass the advantage to their offspring.” His voice quickened with interest. “It seems straightforward enough, except apparently that sort of inheritance is more complicated than you’d think. But if we can understand it well enough to implement her idea, Dabiel thinks we can cut back on the amount of time and energy the Wizards’ Guild spends fighting disease outbreaks in the herds. And reduce the number of times we have to refuse because we’re too busy with human patients.”

“That sounds like valuable work.” Larine picked up one of the scattered books. “Can I help?”

He grimaced. “It’s pretty dry reading. There’s no need for both of us to spend our evening on such a tedious task.”

Larine reached for paper and a pen. “With doubled effort we can finish in half the time. Then you can do something more enjoyable later.”

He smiled crookedly and looked away. “Perhaps.”

Larine suspected she knew what he wouldn’t say. Hanion found little enjoyable these days. Since his divorce from Semira, he’d either gone to his room early or spent the evenings staring blankly into the distance. On the rare occasions he joined the other wizards in games or conversation, his efforts were half-hearted. His bleakness hurt Larine’s heart, but she’d forced herself to wait so he would have time to fully grieve his marriage and hopefully start to heal. Now it was finally time to begin her campaign to win him.

She flipped the book open. “What am I looking for?”

Hanion related what he’d learned so far and explained in more depth what Dabiel wanted. Larine plied him with questions, surprised and intrigued by the complexity of the subject. Hanion’s face and voice grew more animated as her interest continued. Soon they were both deep into the work. Long stretches of quiet, pens busily scratching, were broken by puzzled questions and eagerly shared discoveries.

Larine only realized how much time had passed when the music she’d quit paying attention to stopped. A few soft voices murmured thanks. She looked up from her page of notes to see Kalvanen putting his harp into its leather case. The dining hall was nearly deserted. The handful of wizards left were packing up their cards and dice and bidding each other good-night.

She flushed. She’d meant to drag Hanion over to listen to the music with her. Instead she’d wasted the evening and her money. Hanion wouldn’t have noticed if Kalvanen had played and sung every one of Semira’s favorites.

Hanion yawned and stretched. He surveyed the sheaf of notes they’d produced. “You’ve been a great help. It would have taken me all week to get so much done alone.”

Larine raised a shoulder and dropped it. She nudged Daisy, who was sprawled at her feet, with her toe. “It was nothing. I enjoyed it.”

“So did I.” For an instant Hanion’s gaze met hers. He ducked his head and began gathering the books into a stack.

Larine passed him volumes. “You’ll let me help you again tomorrow, won’t you? I’m much too involved to abandon the project now. If I’d known it could be this interesting, I’d have asked Dabiel to assign me research long ago.”

“Please.” Hanion started to say something else, but broke off before Larine heard enough to guess what it might have been. He set their notes and the case holding the pens and ink on top of the books and scooped up the whole stack. “I need to go. Thunder says he was about to leave me down here and head up to our room by himself. I plan to get back to work right after the evening meal tomorrow.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll meet you back here then, ready to delve further into the mysteries of selective breeding.” She kept her voice free of any entendre.

He smiled, but she couldn’t tell if he’d noticed the potential for double meaning in the words. “Dabiel’s going to be pleased with the results of this project, I can tell. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” she echoed. She watched him stride across the hall. Thunder left the net of hay on the wall and came to meet him. Hanion leaned against his familiar for a moment, dropping his forehead to press against the horse’s neck, before they continued out the door.

Larine released her breath in a long sigh. Even if the evening hadn’t gone exactly the way she’d planned, she wasn’t sorry. It was a start.

Daisy pressed against Larine’s calf, gazing intently at the tightly packed bunch of sheep trotting across the pasture toward them. Larine could feel the dog’s longing as acutely in her taut muscles as in her thoughts. She grinned and tousled her familiar’s ears. I wish I could let you chase them, but I don’t think our host would be pleased.

I could herd them just as well as those dogs are doing. I know I could. She yearned toward the two black-and-white spotted dogs who slunk behind the sheep. The herder whistled, and the dogs turned the group of sheep and drove them right in front of the two wizards. They were so well-trained they never even glanced at the strange dog visiting their ranch.

I’m sure you could, but they couldn’t help me do what we came here for.

Daisy wagged her tail apologetically and sent a golden burst of the Mother’s power to envelop the sheep. Larine closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the sensations that poured into her mind. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t distinguish any difference between the individual animals. They were all the same grass-scented, milk-flavored, rumbling swirls of fuzzy green light.

She opened her eyes to see Hanion scowling at the sheep. “Nothing for you, too?” she asked.

He shook his head, staring at the sheep as the dogs steered them back to their pen. “I don’t think there’s any way to sense what we need. They haven’t been exposed to the disease, so their bodies aren’t doing anything we can perceive.”

Larine grimaced. “We need a herd that’s right at the beginning of an outbreak. The point where the most susceptible animals are starting to succumb, while the more resistant ones are still healthy.”

Hanion rubbed the back of his neck. “We can put word out through the Herders’ Guild, I suppose. They can notify us the minute they start to see the effects on their ranch. Ditel says there are always outbreaks this time of year.”

“Unless they’re within a few hours of Elathir, we won’t get there until it’s too late to tell the difference.”

Scowling, Hanion swiveled to survey the surrounding countryside. Most of the land they’d ridden past on their way to the ranch had been blanketed with the green-and-brown striped rectangles of growing crops. “Too bad we’re not in Korisan. There are a lot more sheep in that area. We’d have a much better chance of reaching a herd at the right stage.”

“We could send a message to the Mother’s Hall there, explaining our project and asking for help.”

Hanion shook his head and returned his attention to the sheep. “By the time we sent enough messages back and forth answering questions and clarifying what to look for, we’d have missed our chance for the year.” He didn’t look at Larine. “It would be better if the two of us traveled there. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of weeks to find what we need.”

Larine’s heart leaped. Traveling with Hanion would be a pleasure. And the long hours on the road would be the perfect opportunity to talk. Surely he couldn’t keep the conversation focused on sheep diseases for the whole trip, the way he’d done whenever they were together since she joined him on this project. He’d proposed the idea. Maybe that meant he was ready to explore the possibility of becoming more than colleagues and old friends.

She kept her voice carefully neutral. “Dabiel would probably agree to let us go. Things have been fairly quiet at the Hall lately. And she tells me the wizards in Korisan are always asking her to send more help.”

He snorted. “They don’t know how easy they have it. Dabiel should require every one of their journeymen to spend a few seasons in Elathir. Then maybe they’d realize how little their town is in comparison.”

“Is it really that small? I thought it was the second-largest city in Tevenar.”

“Yes, but that’s not saying much. They’ve got less than a third of the population of Elathir.” He finally turned to her, his brow creased. “You’ve never been? I thought everyone made the Korisan circuit a few times.”

Larine ducked her head, her cheeks hot. “I’ve never actually made a circuit except to Gemgeda. First Shiar didn’t want me to, and then I was responsible for Ozor. Since he apprenticed, Dabiel’s been depending on me too much.”

“Well, we’ll just have to correct that. Dabiel can learn to get along without you. There’s a lot more to Tevenar than Gemgeda and Elathir, and you deserve the chance to see it.”

The warmth in Hanion’s voice made Larine’s heart stutter. Dared she hope it signified deeper feelings than he’d yet revealed? She fought to keep her words moderate, but despite her efforts longing infused them. “I’ve wanted to travel for years. Dabiel even invited me to make the long circuit with her when she was doing her masterwork. I hated having to refuse. I would love to go to Korisan.” She pressed her lips closed before the unspoken “with you” could escape.

Hanion’s eyes met hers. Larine couldn’t breathe. The emotions they held were too complex for her to interpret fully, but surely desire was among them.

He turned resolutely back to the sheep. “All right. Let’s spend a few more hours here observing the animals so we know exactly what a healthy one feels like. We’ll arrange our trip as soon as we get back to the Hall.”

Larine put the hood of her cloak back and shook out her damp hair, letting the welcome sunlight play across her face. “Dear Mother, I hope that’s the end of the rain.”

Ahead, Thunder raised his head and spread his nostrils wide. Hanion sighed in relief. “He says it should be. We’ve left most of the clouds behind.”

“Thank the Mother.” Larine reached behind her and ruffled Daisy’s head. Her familiar was riding on a pallet on her horse’s rump. The whole lower half of the dog’s body was caked with mud. Want to get down and walk for a while?

Still too many puddles. Daisy laid her head on her front paws with a sigh. She much preferred loping alongside Larine’s mount to riding, but after nearly two days of frequent showers, the road had become such a morass she’d reluctantly abandoned it. Tell me when it’s dry enough.

Larine scanned the road ahead. As far as she could see, sparkling pools dotted the ruts and filled the low spots. I’m afraid that will be a while. Her sigh echoed Daisy’s.

So far the trip to Korisan had fallen short of her hopes. She and Hanion had talked a little during the intermittent breaks in the rain, but far too much of the ride had been spent with their hoods up and heads down as the horses slogged through the muck. They’d spent the night at a farmhouse that regularly provided hospitality to traveling wizards. She’d been grateful for the roof overhead and the opportunity to warm and dry herself by their fire, but the big family had been eager to hear all the latest news and relate the local gossip. She and Hanion had been whisked off to share the girls’ and boys’ bedrooms respectively. Larine didn’t mind when the toddler she’d displaced from her bed crawled under the covers and snuggled with her in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t help but wish she was cuddling with Hanion instead.

Now they were nearly to Korisan. The Mother’s Hall wouldn’t afford much chance to be alone together, either. She doubted they’d get another opportunity for an extended private conversation until they were on their way home.

She urged her mare alongside Thunder. As the two horses blew at each other, Hanion regarded her with a rueful grin. “If I’d known the weather would be this wet, I wouldn’t have suggested you come.”

Larine shrugged. “I don’t mind. Much.”

He laughed. “At least the farmers will be happy. This should start to make up for the long dry spell.”

“Farmers are never happy. You watch. They’ll go directly from worrying about too little rain to grumbling about too much.”

He conceded her point with a chuckle. They rode without speaking for a while, the only sounds the squelching of the horses’ hooves, splatters when gusts of wind shook water from leaves, and the calls of birds emerging from shelter. Larine thought about how to begin. Several times she opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat and she had to close it again. Thankfully, Hanion was gazing straight ahead and didn’t seem to notice.

Finally she just blurted it out. “Hanion, I want to talk. About—about us.”

He stiffened. Without turning to look at her, he said, “I guess we should.”

Was that a good response or a bad one? Larine couldn’t tell. And besides, it was too late to stop. “We’re both free now. I waited to say anything until you’d had plenty of time to deal with your divorce. I know it’s not something you ever really get over—the Mother knows I haven’t—but eventually it’s time to move on. I’ve been ready for a long time. What about you?”

Hanion didn’t reply immediately. As the seconds stretched longer and longer, Larine closed her eyes and berated herself. It was too soon. She should have been more patient. Now she’d probably ruined her chance forever.

Finally he said, choosing each word carefully, “I’m past the pain of losing Semira. Our bond was broken long before the divorce. I want to move on.” He took a deep breath. “But it’s not that simple.”

“Why not?” Dread pooled in the pit of Larine’s stomach. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “I care about you, Larine. I don’t want to hurt you. Please, can we drop this? Because if we don’t, I’m going to have to say things you don’t want to hear. I’m pretty sure I know what you want, and believe me, I want it, too. But I don’t think it’s possible.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Larine said fiercely. His cryptic warning chilled her, but that was buried beneath the hot rush of joy at his admission. He wanted her. Whatever he thought stood in the way, she refused to let it.

“I wish I could believe that.” He shifted in his saddle, turning to face her. She caught her breath at the aching sadness in his eyes. “Go on. Say it. Everything I know you’ve been wanting to tell me. I want to hear it, before…”

“Before what?”

“Before I tell you the thing that’s going to change the way you feel about me.”

“Nothing could do that.”

“This will.” He closed his eyes. “Please?”

Larine clenched her fists. She had one chance to convince him that her feelings for him ran deep and true. That they wouldn’t waver, no matter what he revealed. “I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you.”

His eyes opened and his brow creased. “What?”

She grinned at his confusion. “When I first came to the Hall, when I was thirteen and you were sixteen. You were the most handsome boy I’d ever seen. I would have died if you’d so much as smiled at me. Of course, to you I was only a child. Every time you started seeing another girl, I cried. Every time you ended it, I hoped. Until the next time.”

He reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

Larine could laugh, now, at the girl she’d been. “I forgive you. It would never have worked then, anyway. Later—” She shrugged. “I was going to tell you, after I made journeyman. Shiar had proposed to me, but I wouldn’t answer him until I talked to you. But you and Semira had already decided to stand up together.”

He grimaced. “Smash it.”

“I know. Maybe we could have saved each other a lot of pain.” She reflected for a moment what it would have been like if the two of them had been together all those years. Eventually she shook her head hard. “Or maybe not. Anyway, now you know. My whole life I’ve been waiting for the day I could tell you how I feel.”

He squeezed her hand. She loved the way his hand felt in hers, warm and strong. “I wish I hadn’t been such a blind idiot. I only started to notice you after your divorce from Shiar. Things had been sour between me and Semira for a long time. You’d always been such a good friend. When you presented your masterwork to the guild, you were so proud and happy, you were almost glowing. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Larine drank in his words. His expression was soft and adoring. His eyes traveled her face and body with the appreciation she’d always craved.

He didn’t look away as he continued. “I knew it was wrong, so I tried to ignore it. I swear I did my best to make our marriage work, long after Semira stopped trying. But you were always there in the background, kind and strong and honest, everything Semira wasn’t. When we had our worst argument and she left me, right before Dabiel became Guildmaster, I decided that was it. I’d break it off with her and see if you had any interest in pursuing a relationship. But then—”

His expression darkened. Larine shivered. He was right; she didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. But she had to. They might not have a chance if they were honest with each other, but they surely didn’t if they weren’t. “Go on. Tell me.”

He turned to face forward, his gaze directed between Thunder’s ears. His voice was flat and cold. “Then we caught Ozor stealing.”

Larine’s belly clenched. She hadn’t anticipated what he was going to say, but now it seemed inevitable. “You were such a big help that night. I don’t know what I would have done without you and Dabiel.”

“Let him get away with it, I expect. The way you let him get away with a thousand smaller transgressions over his childhood. I’m sorry, Larine. As long as we were just friends it was none of my business, but if you want us to be more, I can’t remain silent. I’ve always thought you were too soft with him. When he bit people, all you did was give him a mild reprimand. When he threw food, you cleaned it up for him without a word. When he spoke to you rudely, you ignored it. You let him wander the Hall unsupervised, interrupting our work and getting into trouble. None of us wanted to say anything, because we knew how hard it was for you with Shiar gone so often, and not doing much even when he was in port. But now I wished I’d stepped in, even if you resented me for it. Maybe if I’d helped discipline him, he wouldn’t have become a criminal.”

Hanion’s words beat against Larine like hailstones, blow after blow slamming into her head and chest and gut. Every time she thought he couldn’t hurt her more, another accusation struck. She struggled for breath. She wanted to pour out furious denials of everything he said, but all she could force past her tight throat and thick tongue was a feeble contradiction. “Ozor’s not a criminal.”

Hanion shook his head sadly. “My parents are watchers, Larine. I’ve seen the pattern too many times not to recognize it. Some people think the rules don’t apply to them. Unless someone teaches them that they do, early and forcefully, they’ll believe it their whole lives. No matter how many times they’re caught and made to pay restitution or perform service, they’ll keep finding new ways to avoid the Watch, and even windows. Ozor was better at that at eleven than most thieves with years of experience. Do you really think he gave it up because he was sentenced to three weeks sweeping the mill floor? If I’d been trying the case, I would have made sure he got at least a year of hard physical labor. And even that probably wouldn’t have been enough. Not after years of leniency.”

Dear Mother, what was happening? How had the man Larine loved and trusted turned into an enemy? She’d never imagined she might need to defend herself against him. But out of nowhere he’d jabbed a knife into the place where she was most vulnerable, the heart of her secret terrors and deepest shame. “He apologized, and paid all the money back, and swore by the Mother never to steal again. He’s sorry for what he did.”

Hanion snorted. “He’s sorry he got caught. Do you really think that vow means anything to him? Even if he’s decided burglary is too risky, he’s a member of the Traders’ Guild now. They’ll teach him how to steal legally.”

Rage mounted in Larine’s chest. “That’s a lie. The Traders’ Guild is as honest as any other guild. It’s all lies.”

His voice softened, but his eyes remained uncompromising. “I knew you’d react this way. It’s why I’ve been avoiding this discussion.”

“Then why did you say it? Couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut?” Tears clouded Larine’s vision. “Even if you’re right—and you’re not—it’s far too late for me to change anything now. You didn’t have to tell me you think I’m a terrible mother. You didn’t have to—”

“But I did, Larine. I couldn’t start something with you without telling you how I felt. No matter how much I wanted to.” His voice caught. He cleared his throat harshly and went on. “It would have come out sooner or later, and then you’d have felt even more betrayed. At least this way we both know the truth.”

Daisy thrust her cold nose into Larine’s hand, but even her familiar’s wordless compassion was no comfort. “We both know you’re a judgmental, hateful rat. I can’t believe I ever thought I liked you. I’ll be smashed and blasted and burnt before I let you touch me.” She dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, and the mare leaped forward, startled. “Get out of my way,” Larine snarled.

Thunder crowded to the side of the road as Larine urged her mount into a trot, then a canter. The trees flew past in a blur on either side. Larine crouched over the mare’s neck, tears streaking her cheeks. She desperately wanted to get away from Hanion as far and as fast as she could.

Behind her, Daisy yelped. Be careful! I can’t— Her claws scrabbled against the leather of the pallet.

Larine grabbed for her, but missed. Daisy slid from the horse’s rump and fell, yelping. Her terror echoed in Larine’s mind.

Horrified, she yanked her mount to a sliding halt and flung herself from the saddle. As she raced back, Daisy’s voice came faintly into her head, weak and laced with pain. I’m all right. It’s just my leg. Don’t worry; we’ll be able to fix it.

Larine threw herself to the muddy road beside the dog’s sprawled form. Daisy’s pain throbbed in her own body, despite the dog’s effort to reassure her. She resisted the urge to seize her familiar, instead laying her hand gingerly on Daisy’s neck. It took the dog a moment to collect herself enough to send the Mother’s power flowing into her twisted hind leg. Larine flinched at the sharp vivid line of cracked bone, the stink of sulfur, the taste of broken stone.

She managed to hold herself together while Daisy healed herself. She was dimly aware when Hanion slid from Thunder’s back and came to stand watching them. But he didn’t offer to help, and she ignored him.

Finally the long, draining process of knitting bone drew to its conclusion. Larine urged Daisy to keep going until the break was completely healed, the leg as sound as if it had been many months since the injury. When there was no further healing to be accelerated and Daisy let the golden light fade, Larine gathered her into her lap and wrapped her arms around her. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…

Sobs shook her body. Daisy licked the tears from her face and whined, pouring love and devotion and forgiveness across their bond. Larine buried her face in her fur and cried harder.

A strong arm encircled her shoulders. Larine couldn’t summon the strength to pull away, but she choked out words between her sobs. “You’re right. It’s all my fault. I’m a horrible mother. I’m selfish, and lazy, and irresponsible.”

Hanion drew her close. “Shh.”

But she couldn’t stop. All the guilt that had built up over the years came pouring out in a garbled torrent of words. “I love him so much. I didn’t want to make him hate me. I tried to teach him right from wrong, but I guess it wasn’t enough. He used to laugh when he hurt me. It made me so angry, I was afraid what I might do. I slapped him once, after he bit me. So hard, right across his face. He screamed. I almost turned myself in to Master Tasha, but I was too afraid they’d take him away from me. So I cried and promised him I’d never do it again. But now you think I should have even more, and I know you’re right. Maybe then he’d have learned to care when he hurt people, instead of laughing.”

She pressed her face into Hanion’s chest and wept. He held her for a long time, until her tears ran out and she subsided into ragged breaths.

He stroked her hair. “Of course I’m not suggesting you should have hit him. Just been more firm with him.”

“I tried!” She twisted in his arms and glared at him. “I did the best I could!” Her shoulders slumped, and she sagged against him. “It just wasn’t enough.”

“Maybe it was. Maybe I’m wrong and he really has reformed.”

“You don’t believe that.”

He was silent for several seconds. Finally he said, “I can’t really know. Neither of us is the Mother, able to see into people’s hearts.”

Larine choked out a mirthless laugh. “A few minutes ago you thought you could.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Does it really matter? Whether or not things might have been different if you’d done things differently, Ozor’s old enough now that his choices are his own. He has free will just like the rest of us. He’s responsible for how he uses it.” His voice softened. “I do believe you did your best.”

His strong, warm chest felt good to lean on. “I hope I did. It’s so hard, trying to figure out in each moment the right way to respond. I know you’re not the only one who judged me.”

He raised a hand to brush her wet cheek. “No matter what else I thought, I never doubted for a minute that you loved him. I know you’d give your life for him without a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that’s all that matters.” His fingers cupped her chin.

She let him tilt her face up. His eyes searched hers as he lowered his mouth to meet her lips. The kiss was gentle at first, but it kindled fire in Larine’s veins. She pressed harder, demanding more, and he responded with an ardor that swept away everything but her yearning need for him.

He broke off, panting, long before she was ready, and caressed her cheek with a trembling hand. “We need to get moving if we want to get to Korisan before dark.”

Larine became aware of the mud they were sitting in and the water soaking through her breeches. She shivered and scrambled to her feet, extending a hand to Hanion. “Dear Mother, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He reached for Thunder and sent a warming rush of the Mother’s power to pull as much water from her clothes as it could. She scooped up Daisy and returned the favor.

Her horse had wandered down the road. Thunder went after her and brought her back. Larine ruffled Daisy’s ears. Want to ride? You should probably rest your leg.

Daisy eyed the high pallet with distaste. No, thanks. I’ll stick to my own four feet from now on.

Larine laughed and mounted, relaying her familiar’s words to Hanion. He guided Thunder alongside and reached for her hand.

They rode like that for a while, until it became too uncomfortable and their horses grew restless. Larine reluctantly let his fingers slide from her grip.

Hanion looked sideways at her. “So. Where do we go from here?”

Larine took a deep breath and examined her feelings. Resentment still lingered at his harsh judgement, but it was fading. She appreciated his honesty. And how relevant was the issue likely to be in the future, anyway? “I’m not interested in having any more children.”

He drew in his breath. “Neither am I. Maybe if I were younger. But Semira never wanted any, and I was always content with that.”

Larine nodded. “So whatever differences of opinion we have about discipline aren’t going to come into play there.” She took a deep breath and forced her voice to stay level. “Ozor is my son and Shiar’s. Only the two of us and his master have any say in decisions concerning him, until he makes journeyman and is responsible for himself. If I want your opinion I’ll ask for it, but I don’t want you offering advice if I don’t. And I really don’t want you to criticize whatever decisions I end up making.”

He nodded slowly. “I promise not to interfere, and to respect whatever you choose to do, whether I agree with it or not. Actually, I think it will be best for all of us if I stay out of his life completely.”

“Agreed.” Larine’s heart thudded. Could they really move past this conflict? Or would it lurk in the background, waiting to re-emerge and poison their relationship? Did she want to risk another disastrous marriage, or the pain of its ending? She thought she and Hanion could love each other as neither of them had experienced in their first marriages, but it was far from a sure thing.

She licked her lips, tasting the memory of their kiss. She was willing to gamble, if he was.

Larine strove to keep her voice light. “So. When we get to the Mother’s Hall, do you want to request two rooms?” She gulped. “Or one?”

The light in his eyes and the joy in his smile drove the breath from her lungs and sent shivers through her body. “I don’t see any reason to make them clean two guest rooms, when sharing one will suit me very well.”

“Me, neither,” she whispered. Heedless of the awkwardness, she urged her horse close to Thunder and grabbed Hanion’s hand. His fingers closed around hers, warm and strong. They rode that way all the rest of the way to Korisan.

Hanion spread their notes on Dabiel’s desk. “We were able to identify clear differences in how individual animals reacted to the disease. Certain sheep were able to fight it off much better than others. When we discovered it was contracted when a healthy sheep breathed traces of the mucus secreted by a sick one, we realized we could use that to test herds that hadn’t yet been infected.”

Larine leaned over and indicated a sketch on one of the pages. “We collected mucous from sick sheep and dissolved it in water. It stays active for three or four days—you can feel the sparkles, just like in the animal’s body. Then we sponged a little on each healthy sheep’s nose and monitored their reaction. The best time to check is twenty-four hours after exposure. By that time susceptible sheep are developing symptoms, while resistant ones have already recovered. The difference is clearly perceptible through the Mother’s power. We marked them accordingly and then healed the ones who were getting sick.”

Hanion pointed to another sheet, with a list of names. “These are all the herders we met with. The ones who agreed to exclusively breed resistant sheep next year are marked in this column. So far it’s only about a third of them, but another third should come around with more explanations. Most of the rest will cooperate if the Herders’ Guild issues an official recommendation.”

Larine shuffled through the notes until she found the page she wanted, with a branching diagram. “According to the research we did on inheritance, we’ll have to repeat the tests for several generations, because only some of the resistant sheep’s offspring will inherit the trait. But if we do, in twenty years or so the disease should no longer be a problem.”

Hanion leaned back in his chair. “We’ll travel to the sheep ranches around Elathir right away. It should only take a few weeks. After that, if you can spare us from the Hall, we thought we'd make the long circuit. With a few detours, that will take us through all of the sheep-raising regions in Tevenar. Of course, we’ll take care of whatever other needs we encounter, as well. And maybe spare a little time for sight-seeing along the way.” He smiled at Larine. She grinned back.

Dabiel looked back and forth between them, warmth dawning in her eyes. “Good work, you two. Very good work. I approve of your plan. The Hall can certainly manage without you for such a good cause.” She scratched Buttons’s forehead and he grunted in appreciation. “Was there anything else you wanted to tell me?”

Larine reached for Hanion’s hand. She thought about lengthy explanations, but discarded them in favor of the simple truth. “We’re going to be standing up together on Restday.”

Hanion squeezed her fingers. “We thought about doing it in Korisan, but we want our family and friends with us. And we'd like you to officiate.”

Dabiel broke into a broad grin. “I’d be delighted.” She jumped to her feet and hurried around the desk to envelop Larine in an enthusiastic hug. “Congratulations!” She turned to embrace Hanion. “I know you’ll be so happy together. It’s about time.” She frowned in mock annoyance. “You didn’t leave me much time to plan your party.”

“Please don’t go to any trouble,” Larine protested. “We don’t need a big celebration.”

“It would be a shame to waste a hot summer Restday afternoon cooped up in the Hall, even for a party,” Hanion agreed. “Why don’t we plan to go to the beach after the service instead?”

“That sounds perfect.” Larine leaned her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t imagine a better way to celebrate the joy they’d found together. All the struggle, all the pain, all the trials they’d endured were over.

Bright sunny days stretched ahead as far as she could see.