It was well past sunset before we got away. All the details that couldn't be settled had to be delegated, which meant explanations and alternative orders. But at last we were on the road, riding flat out for the capital. The wind and our speed made conversation under a shout impossible, so for a long time we rode in silence.
It was just as well, leastwise for me. I really needed time to think, and--so I figured--if my life was destined to continue at such a headlong pace, I was going to have to learn to perform my cerebrations while dashing back and forth cross-country at the gallop.
Of course my initial thoughts went right back to that kiss, and for a short time I thought wistfully about how much I'd been missing. But I realized that, though it was splendid in a way nothing had been hitherto and I hoped there'd be plenty more--and soon--it didn't solve any of the puzzles whose pieces I'd only recently begun to comprehend. If anything, it made things suddenly more difficult.
I wished that I had Nee to talk to, or better, Oria. Except what would be the use? Neither of them had ever caused someone to initiate a courtship by letter.
I sighed, glad for the gentle rain, and for the darkness, as I made myself reconsider all of my encounters with Shevraeth--this time from, as much as I was able, his perspective.
This was not a pleasant exercise. By the time we stopped, sometime after white-change, to get fresh horses and food and drink, I was feeling contrite and thoroughly miserable.
We stepped into the very inn in which we'd had our initial conversation; we passed the little room I had stood outside of, and I shuddered. Now we had a bigger one, but I was too tired to notice much beyond comfortable cushions and warmth. As I sank down, I saw glowing rings around the candles and rubbed my eyes.
When I looked up at Shevraeth, it was in time to catch the end of one of those assessing glances. Then he smiled, a real smile of humor and tenderness.
"I knew it," he said. "I knew that by now you would have managed to see everything as your fault, and you'd be drooping under the weight.
It was just as well, leastwise for me. I really needed time to think, and--so I figured--if my life was destined to continue at such a headlong pace, I was going to have to learn to perform my cerebrations while dashing back and forth cross-country at the gallop.
Of course my initial thoughts went right back to that kiss, and for a short time I thought wistfully about how much I'd been missing. But I realized that, though it was splendid in a way nothing had been hitherto and I hoped there'd be plenty more--and soon--it didn't solve any of the puzzles whose pieces I'd only recently begun to comprehend. If anything, it made things suddenly more difficult.
I wished that I had Nee to talk to, or better, Oria. Except what would be the use? Neither of them had ever caused someone to initiate a courtship by letter.
I sighed, glad for the gentle rain, and for the darkness, as I made myself reconsider all of my encounters with Shevraeth--this time from, as much as I was able, his perspective.
This was not a pleasant exercise. By the time we stopped, sometime after white-change, to get fresh horses and food and drink, I was feeling contrite and thoroughly miserable.
We stepped into the very inn in which we'd had our initial conversation; we passed the little room I had stood outside of, and I shuddered. Now we had a bigger one, but I was too tired to notice much beyond comfortable cushions and warmth. As I sank down, I saw glowing rings around the candles and rubbed my eyes.
When I looked up at Shevraeth, it was in time to catch the end of one of those assessing glances. Then he smiled, a real smile of humor and tenderness.
"I knew it," he said. "I knew that by now you would have managed to see everything as your fault, and you'd be drooping under the weight.
( Sherwood Smith )
[ Court Duel ]
www.QuoteSweet.com