Brie shook his head. "These are dark times in Eirren. You said you live in Inkberrow?"
Collun nodded.
"Do you live with your mother and father?"
Collun nodded again. "My father runs the smithy in Inkberrow."
"What is his name?" Brie asked. "I traveled through Inkberrow once and had my horse shod by an able blacksmith."
"Goban," Collun replied, refilling Brie's bowl with stew. He glanced up briefly and thought he saw a curious expression in the boy's eyes.
But all Brie said was, "That was the name. I remember now."
"And you, Breo-Saight? Where are you from?" asked Talisen, handing his bowl to Collun for seconds.
"A small town northwest of Temair. You would not know it."
"And your mother and father?"
"My mother died when I was born. That is a handsome harp you carry, Talisen. What is the workmanship?"
"I do not know," answered Talisen. "Are you trying to change the subject, Brie?"
"Not at all. It is only that I fear my history would bore you. I suspect yours is much more intriguing. What is the story of your harp?"
Talisen paused but was clearly unable to resist the temptation to talk about himself. "I have had it since I was a babe."
Brie raised his eyebrows.
"They found me one day, the good people of Inkberrow, in the middle of town, wearing no more than a linen diaper and this harp strung across my back. I was barely able to walk, they tell me, and the harp was twice my size, but I was able to balance it with ease."
"It was strapped to your back?" Brie responded in disbelief.
"And the linen cloth of the diaper was soaked through with seawater, among other things," Talisen said with a grin.
"Inkberrow is nowhere near the shore," Brie pointed out.
"Exactly!" responded Talisen. "Is it not strange and mysterious?"
"It makes a good story, anyway," said Brie with a smile.
"The truth often does," Talisen retorted. "Now, how about some music?" He began one of the old songs, badgering Brie to join in while Collun washed their dinner utensils in a nearby stream.
Though Brie's voice was softer than Talisen's, it was true and clear, and the two harmonized well. Collun rejoined them by the fire and listened while they sang several more songs, until Talisen suggested a song about the hero Cuillean.
Brie rose and stretched, saying, "That's enough for me tonight."
"Do you not care for songs of Cuillean and the Eamh War?" asked Talisen.
Brie shook his head. "It is only that I am weary. And we need to be up early."
"Tell me," Talisen went on, ignoring Brie's pointed yawn, "is it true what we have heard in Inkberrow? That Cuillean has been missing for over a year?"
"As far as I know, it is true," replied Brie.
"Do you think he is dead?"
"Perhaps."
As Collun rose to stir the glowing embers of the fire, he felt Brie's eyes on him. Watching the small sparks that flew up, Collun said, "I am tired, too, Talisen. Stop pestering Breo-Saight with your questions and let us get some sleep."
***
The next day the weather stayed brisk and clear, and they made good progress. But in the late afternoon they came across a wide swath of knee-high burdock. Sticky burrs jabbed at the animals' legs and flanks and clung to the boys' clothing. The mare occasionally reared with an exasperated whinny, while the pony constantly shied and finally came to a complete halt, refusing to budge another inch.
After several minutes of futile cajoling and kicking, Talisen let out an ear-blistering curse and swung himself off the stubborn pony. "Damnable hurr-burrs," he muttered, peeling several off his clothing. "They're driving me mad."
"There are worse things than hurr-burrs," replied Brie, pulling up on the mare's reins.
"Perhaps, but that doesn't make their bite any less sharp," countered Talisen testily.
"I believe it does."
"Have you always been so stoic, Breo-Saight?"
"My father raised me so."
"Is that so? Tell me, are you your father's only son?"
"Yes," Brie answered shortly.
"I think not."
"I beg your pardon?"
With a sly grin, Talisen suddenly dipped into a low bow. He began to recite in a singsong voice, "'A father's child, a mother's child, yet no one's son.' Am I not right... m'lady?"
Collun stared down at Talisen. "What brand of nonsense is this?"
Talisen laughed and said to Brie, whose face had turned a vivid shade of red, "You can't deceive a bard when it comes to the fair sex. We are a sensitive breed, you know."
Brie glared at Talisen, her eyes like lightning in a storm. "I am a warrior and a marksman, no matter what my sex, and I understand little of the sensitivities of a bard!"
"Temper, temper, my dear girl. I believe I will re-name you Flame-girl. Much more apt than Fire Arrow, don't you think?"
Brie swung the horse around furiously, urging it forward.
"Is it true?" Collun asked, staring at the back of Brie's head.
At first she did not answer. Then, stopping the mare, she turned toward Collun. "Yes," she said simply.
Collun stared at her. "I do not understand. Why do you disguise yourself?"
Brie swung herself off the horse and Collun followed. "I am the daughter of a warrior who wanted a son," Brie began. "When I was a babe, my father laid the marksman's bow and arrow on my chest, even though I was a girl. My mother had died bearing me, and when my father realized there would be no son for him, he trained me as he would a boy. I learned quickly and he was pleased. When I first started traveling on my own, I was often mistaken for a boy. I decided it was easier and safer to maintain the charade."
"I never guessed." Collun examined her face closely, trying to picture her with longer hair and wearing feminine clothes. She was not beautiful—not, at least, the way Nessa or Emer was. Yet Brie's face had strength, with angles and shadows that drew his eyes. Her limbs were lithe, he realized now, in a way that most boys' were not.
He saw something else in her eyes, something unknowable, sadness perhaps, mixed with something darker.
"Of all people, it is extraordinary that he"—she gestured back toward Talisen, who was plucking hurr-burrs off the pony's coat as he muttered encouraging words to the stubborn animal—"should have seen through my disguise. There are only one or two others who know the truth."
"We shall not reveal what you do not wish revealed," Collun promised.
She turned and smiled at him. There was a radiance in her face when she smiled that made Collun stare. He dropped his gaze quickly.
Brie's smile dimmed as she cast a doubtful glance back toward Talisen.
"Do not worry," Collun said. "Talisen can keep a secret when he understands it is important to do so. I will tell him."
"Thank you."
The weather stayed fair and their progress the next day was even better than the two before. But just before twilight, as they came to the top of a rise high enough to command a view of much of the surrounding countryside, they spotted a band of riders coming up behind them. They were too far off to recognize, but the companions all had the same thought: Scathians.
Brie quickly led them down the other side of the rise and along the bottom of the moor. For the next several hours they traveled hard, moving at the fastest pace the pony could muster.
They finally came to a large stream. Brie urged the mare forward. After hesitating a few moments, the animal plunged into the water, which came up to her knees. The pony took a little more cajoling, but it, too, went in. Talisen let out a groan as the chilly water filled his boots.
"It will make it harder for the Scathians to track us," said Brie.
"If you don't mind fish swimming between your toes," Talisen grumbled.
They traveled along in the stream until dawn, when they ate and rested for several hours. Then they resumed the same urgent pace of the night before, zigzagging across the land and trying to keep away from the tops of the moors, where their pursuers might be able to spot them.