But in the morning, there was no asking, for we woke before dawn to the patter of a cold rain. I felt the first few droplets on my cheek, hard and quick as someone flicking my skin. Then several more on my shoulder, soaking through the fabric of my shirt where the vest exposed the seam. I lifted my head and squinted into a sky gone dim and low with clouds.

“Up with you, Locke.” Chester was packing his bedroll. “The Vessel’s sent her knights around once already. We will be late.”

“Late,” came a grumpy mutter from the Radburn-shaped lump near me. “Late for what?”

“The Vessel’s grand drama, apparently,” Guy opined with a yawn and threw off his blanket.

I pushed my blanket back, dislodging Nine. “At least it’s only light rain.”

“Now you’ve done it,” Radburn said, disgusted. At my quizzical look, he said, “You’ve cursed us. Now it’s going to pour.”

“Magical thinking,” Guy observed. “And in one of your advanced education and purported erudition. Disgraceful.”

“Just watch. When it starts coming down in sheets, I’ll blame Morgan.”

“Quickly, sir,” Chester said to Eyre, “give them an insolvable philosophy problem, or they’ll be bickering and complaining all day.”

“All day?” Eyre said, amused.

“All day. Because Radburn’s right. Once it starts raining in autumn, it doesn’t stop.”

We made haste to break camp, resigning ourselves to cold forage, but even in the short time we needed to pack and make for our mounts, the sprinkle became a cold drizzle. As I helped Ivy onto her horse, I said softly, “Would you like my cloak?”

She smiled and touched my hand. “And deprive you of it? Your new body doesn’t keep you dry the way it heals you of wounds.”

“That it does not, no. But it should put paid to any catarrh I might be thinking of catching.”

She laughed. “Very handy that!” She curled her fingers around mine and squeezed before letting my hand go. “I’ll be fine. I like rain.” She turned her face up into it, eyes closed. “It’s like a benison from the sky.”

“If you’re sure—”

“Keep your cloak,” she said. “We need you and the elves concealed, just in case the heralds fail to clear the road for our passage.”

Ivy needn’t have worried. As Chester predicted, the rain not only didn’t stop, it grew thicker, and I was forced to endure Radburn’s gimlet gaze. I found the chill didn’t bother me as much as I anticipated, yet another shocking change; in the past, cold or rain had been sufficient to confine me to my bed or risk wracking illness or joint inflammation or both. The two together would have been a prescription for lasting misery. To find it merely inconvenient was novel.

Alas, this was not the case for my companions. The genets were so pathetic that I covered the ones behind me with my cloak. Kelu, too large to fit under it with the others, made do by plastering herself to my chest, and I bent over her to keep what rain I could from her fur… very little, given the wind. The drake seemed unmoved by the weather, though I caught it once trying to lick drops of rain as they fell; that was the one charming moment of the day, and an image poignant enough that it lingered for a very long time. So much sinuous power in the sleek, scaled neck, the long, draconic head, the enormous, burning-ember eyes, the open mouth revealing rows of tremendous carnassial teeth… and that tongue, flicking, curious and persistent, like a child hoping for the taste of snowflakes.

My human companions were also miserable; even had they found the energy for debate, there was no making conversation amid the drumming noise of the rain, and so we had no distraction from our physical state. And our pace was greatly delayed, for while the road was paved with stones, there’d been a layer of dirt over it that obligingly turned to mud and sucked at the hooves of the party’s horses. I feared there would be no cantering for the Vessel today, no matter our appointment with grand drama.

When we stopped at midday, I helped Ivy down from her horse and was distressed to find her trembling. This I felt in my hands as I cupped her elbows, for it was hard to see her in the downpour.

“It’s nothing,” she said, leaning close to be heard. “If you’ll hold my cloak over us?”

“You’re taking it off!” I exclaimed, horrified.

She laughed softly. “Only to put on my coat.” She peeled it off her shoulders and handed it to me, and I hastily made a ceiling for her with its folds. As I watched, she rifled through her bag until she’d found her coat, tucked herself into it, then drew her cloak back on. “There. That’s better.”

I thought she looked wan and bedraggled and wanted nothing more than to cast some magic that erected a permanent tent over her, but her spirits were high and seeing them, I smiled. “You still love rain.”

“One does not stop loving something when it becomes somewhat troublesome,” she replied with a laugh, and kissed my cheek. My thoughts evanesced, much to her obvious delight. She cupped my wet face, smiling up at me, and my thoughts stayed rather scattered. In fact, I was not at all conscious of having any, only a welling feeling of glee that she was looking at me that way.

Remembering myself, I turned my face enough to kiss her palm, and that shiver, I hoped, was not the rain.

“Will you send one of your genets to ride with me?” she asked. “I doubt my horse would mind, and the three of them barely fit under your cloak.”

“Kindly thought,” I said. “I will ask.”

I lost one of the Pearls to Ivy’s mount, then, and Almond and the other hunched under my cloak with somewhat more comfort. Somewhat.

“Can you get sick?” I asked Almond as I caressed her muzzle, concerned at the limpness of her ears and the slump of her thin shoulders.

“No, Master,” she said. “At least, I have never heard of a sick genet.”

“We have sat in cages outside in worse weather,” Seven said.

“But not in this cold, I wager.” I sighed. “I hope there is nothing in your constitution to permit disease. Up then. If I remember right, tonight we stay in town.”

“In town!” Almond whispered, eyes lighting. “We’ll be dry?”

“We will.”