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〃Go south…you'll be happy there；〃 Heanwig continued； almost pleading。 〃Stay out the Vale。〃
〃We must go；〃 said Miriamele。 〃But we won't make you e。〃
Heanwig had been sidling toward the door。 Now he stopped with his hand already on the wood and ducked his head。 〃I thank you； young mistress。 Aedon's Light be on you。〃 He paused； at a loss for words。 〃Hope you e back again safe。〃
〃Thank you； too； Heanwig；〃 Miriamele replied solemnly。
Simon suppressed a groan of irritation； reminding himself that a knight did not make faces and noises like a scullion did…especially a knight who wished to stay on the good side of his lady。 And at least the old man apparently would not be traveling with them。 That was an acceptable reward for a little forbearance。
As they rode out of Stanshire into the countryside； the rain began to fall once more。 At first it was little more than a flurry of drops； but by the time mid…morning came； it was falling in great sheets。 The wind rose； carrying the rain toward them in cold； cascading slaps of water。
〃This is as bad as being on a ship in storm；〃 Miriamele shouted。
〃At least on a ship you have oars；〃 Simon called back。 〃We're going to need some soon。〃
Miriamele laughed； pulling her hood down low over her eyes。 Simon felt warmer just knowing he had amused her。 He had been feeling a little ashamed of the way he had treated the old man； almost as soon as Heanwig had gone shuffling away down the lane； heading back toward the center of Stanshire； Simon had felt his bad temper evaporate。 It was hard to say now what it was about the old man that had so perturbed him…he hadn't really done anything。
They headed back toward the River Road along a succession of wagon…rutted lanes that now were little more than sluices of mud。 The countryside began to look more wild。 The farmlands around Stanshire； although mostly given over to weeds； still bore the mark of past human care in the fences and stone walls and an occasional cottage； but as the town and its outlying settlements fell away behind them； the wilderness reasserted itself。
It was a peculiarly bleak place。 The nearly endless winter had stripped all of the trees but the evergreens； and even the pines and firs seemed to have suffered unkind handling。 Simon thought the strange； twisted shape of the trunks and branches resembled the writhing human bodies in the mural of The Day of Weighing…Out which stretched across the wall of the Hayholt's chapel。 He had spent many a boring hour in church staring in fascination at the scenes of torment； marveling at the invention of the anonymous artist。 But here in the real； cold； wet world； the gnarled shapes were mostly disheartening。 Leafless oaks and elms and ash trees loomed against the sky； skeletal hands that clenched and unclenched as the wind bent them。 With the sky bruised almost black by clouds and the rain flung slantwise across the muddied hillsides； it made a much drearier picture than even the decorations in the chapel。
Simon and Miriamele rode on through the storm； mostly unspeaking。 Simon was chagrined that the princess had not once mentioned； or even hinted at； their kiss of the night before。 It was not a day conducive to flirtatious conversation； he knew； but she seemed to be pretending it had never even happened。 Simon did not know what to do about this： several times he was on the verge of asking her； but he could not think of anything to say about it that would not sound stupid in the light of day。 That kiss had been a bit like his arrival in Jao e…Tinukai'i； a moment in which he had stepped out of time。 Perhaps； like a trip to a fairy…hill； what they had shared the night before had been something magical； something destined to fade as quickly from memory as an icicle melting in the sun。
No。 I won't let it fade。 I'll remember it always 。 。。 even if she doesn't。
He stole a glance at Miriamele。 Most of her face was hidden by the hood； but he could see her nose and part of her cheek and her sharp chin。 She looked almost Silha…like； he thought； graceful and beautiful； yet not quite knowable。 What was going on in her head？ How could she cling to him as she had； then say nothing about it afterward； until he wondered if he had dreamed the whole thing or was going mad？ Surely she had returned that kiss as eagerly as he had given it？ Little as he knew of women and kissing； he could not believe that the way she had responded meant nothing。
Why don't I just ask her？ I'll go mad if I don't find out。 But what if she laughs at me； or gets angry…or doesn't remember？
The idea that Miriamele might have no strong emotions corresponding to the feelings that churned within him was chilling。 His resolve to make her talk abruptly vanished。 He would think about it more。
But I want to kiss her again。
He sighed。 The sound was lost in the hissing tumult of the rain。
The River Road was muddy and almost entirely empty； as Simon had predicted； they passed fewer than a dozen other travelers all day。 Only one man bothered to do more than nod； a short； bandy…legged fellow whose knob…kneed horse pulled a tented wagon full of tinker's goods。 Hoping for information about what might lie ahead； Simon took courage at his pleasant greeting and asked the man to stop。 The tinker stood in the downpour； apparently glad for someone to talk to； and told them that there was a way station ahead that they should reach not long after sundown。 He said he was on his way out from Falshire； and described that city as quiet and the business he had done there as poor。 After quietly making sure that Miriamele approved； Simon invited the man to e join them beneath a stand of pines that kept out most of the rain。 They handed him the wineskin； and while their new acquaintance took a few healthy swallows； Simon repeated his story of being an itinerant chandler。
〃Thank you kindly。〃 The tinker handed back the wineskin。 〃Cuts the chill a bit； that does。〃 He nodded。 〃You'll be hoping to do some trade for Saint Tunath's and Aedonmansa； then。 Good luck to you。 But if you'll pardon advice not asked for； I think you'd best go no farther west than Falshire。〃
Simon and Miriamele locked eyes briefly before turning back to the traveler。
〃Why is that？〃 asked Simon。
〃People just say it's bad there。〃 The man's grin seemed forced。 〃You know the sort of tales。 Bandits； the like。 Some talk of odd happenings in the hills。〃 He shrugged。
Simon pressed him for details； but the man did not seem inclined to elaborate。 Simon had never heard of a traveling tinker who would not happily finish a proffered wineskin while regaling his listeners with tales of his journeying； whether this man was an exception to the rule； or whether there was something that had disturbed him enough to keep him quiet； Simon could not tell。 He seemed a reasonable sort。
〃We're looking for nothing but a roof over our heads and a few timings worth of work here and there；〃 said Simon。
The tinker cocked an eyebrow at the sword on Simon's belt and the metal hauberk protruding beyond his sleeves。 〃You're tolerable well…armed