And with just the two of them, they were given the smallest room, with only one bed.
Kelder thought about making some noble gesture like sleeping out in the stable, or at least on the floor, but then he looked at Irith’s smile and realized that she must have known, when she led him to this out-of-the-way inn, exactly what the situation was and what she was getting into.
It would seem that he had, indeed, been courting, and more successfully than he thought. He had not seriously anticipated so quick a conquest — if conquest it was. The question arose in Kelder’s mind, and was immediately suppressed, as to just who had conquered whom.
It didn’t really matter; they were, he knew, fated for each other.
They talked for a long time about nothing in particular — Kelder learned a great many new words in Trader’s Tongue, and felt himself becoming more comfortable with the language — and in the end they did more than just talk.
It was wonderful.
It was very late indeed when Kelder finally fell asleep.
By the time they were up and dressed in the morning the other guests had eaten their breakfasts and departed. Kelder was in no hurry, but for once Irith seemed a little impatient, so they ate quickly and set out without dawdling.
At first he found himself wondering about little things he had noticed about Irith. She never removed the bloodstone choker, for example, not even when sleeping — but maybe the clasp was hard to work. He hadn’t really gotten a good look at it, in the dimness of their shared room.
She also always wore six or seven narrow bands of some sort tight around her right ankle, none of them particularly attractive, and from what little he had seen Kelder was unsure if they were bangles, or bracelets, or possibly even tattoos. Three had designs involving feathers, and one gleamed like mother-of-pearl. He was determined to get a better look at them sometime.
There was no hurry, though.
After they had been walking for awhile, Kelder’s attention turned to the journey itself. They were meeting far fewer travelers now; traffic east of Yondra Keep was apparently less than traffic farther west. Also, the distance from the Keep to the Angarossan border was roughly three times as far as to the Keep from the Amramionic border, which seemed odd to him. Shouldn’t the Keep be in the center of the kingdom?
Well, it obviously wasn’t, so he trudged on and on, expecting every minute to cross the border into Angarossa.
“Tell me,” he asked Irith around mid-morning, as she danced on ahead of him, bare feet skipping lightly across the highway’s stones, golden hair flashing in the sun. “What’s the route, exactly?”
She turned and looked back, her hair settling to her shoulders like a flock of doves landing. “You mean where the Great Highway goes?”
He nodded, somewhat out of breath.
Irith pointed eastward. “Through Yondra, and then Angarossa, and Sinodita, and Dhwerra, and then out across the desert to Shan,” she told him.
“And how far is that? To Shan on the Desert, I mean.”
She looked ahead and considered.
“About fifteen leagues, I guess,” she said at last.
“Oh,” he said. He glanced back at empty roadway, and then asked, “How far have we come? I’m not very good with distances.”
“Oh, four or five leagues,” she answered, with a vague wave indicating that her reply was little more than a guess.
He stopped and looked back, and then at the road stretching endlessly on ahead. They had covered no more than a fourth of the journey?
That was a depressing thought.
Of course, he’d come a good distance before even reaching the highway, and Irith wasn’t counting that.
And in stories people journeyed for sixnights on end, or months, or even years.
And he wasn’t really in any hurry to get to Shan, was he? He had no business there; it was just a convenient goal, an excuse for traveling. The real reason he was going to Shan, after all, was to fulfill the prophecy, and that spoke only of the journey itself. A longer journey also meant a chance to spend more time with Irith before proposing marriage, and that was a good thing, too.
So why hurry?
“Hai, slow down!” he called to Irith, who had not stopped when he did. “What’s your rush?”
“I don’t like bandits,” she called back. “Come on!”
He sighed, and hurried to catch up.
They passed an empty, crumbling watchtower just before midday.
“We’re in Angarossa now,” Irith said. “You don’t see too many robbers in Yondra, though they’ll cross the border sometimes to catch people off-guard, but the hills of Angarossa are full of them.” She peered warily to either side, and spoke in a tone far more serious than her usual chirping, cheerful manner.
“Really?” Kelder asked, a little more skeptically than he had intended. For one thing, the gently-rolling countryside hardly qualified as hills, by his standards — in Shulara or Sevmor such terrain would have been considered effectively flat.
“Yes, really,” Irith snapped back.
He looked about, studying their surroundings, then stopped and pointed ahead. “Look!” he called. “What’s that?”
Irith followed his finger, and suddenly spread wings that, a second before, had not been there at all. She flapped, and Kelder was almost bowled over by the wind as she rose into the air.
“What is it?” he called. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m getting a better look,” she called down to him. “I’ll be right back.”
He stood, watching helplessly, as she rose into the air, propelled steadily upward by the great iridescent wings. Then he turned his attention back to the spot on the horizon that had attracted his attention.
He still couldn’t make out details; whatever it was was big, and its color not very different from the color of the highway itself — probably, he supposed, because it was dusty. It was at the top of a rise, and disappearing slowly over that rise even as he watched.
Then Irith was settling back to the earth beside him, her wings folding away into nothingnesss. “It’s a caravan,” she told him. “A big one.”
“That?” he said, pointing at the distant object. “That’s a caravan?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Well, all you could see from down here, silly, was the very last wagon!”
“Oh,” he replied, feeling foolish.
“Come on,” Irith said, starting to run. “If we can catch up with them, we can all travel together. It’ll be safer.”
“It will?” Kelder asked, breaking into a trot.
“Sure!” Irith said. “They’ll have guards and everything!”
Kelder was still unsure just why, but he ran after Irith. The girl seemed as tireless as ever, but long before they reached the caravan Kelder was panting and stumbling.
“Wait,” he called, “I have to catch my breath!”
With a worried glance at the caravan — its nature now plain, as they had crossed another low ridge — Irith slowed to a walk. She danced impatiently as Kelder trudged along.
When he had stopped gasping and was fully upright again, she called, “Come on!” and started running again.
“You go on,” he said, “I’ll catch up.”
She frowned, and then nodded, and there were wings on her back once again. She spread them and leapt upward, soaring into the air.
Kelder trudged on.
He could see the caravan for what it was, now; he counted five wagons, and others were over the next hill, he was sure. There were people sitting in and on the wagons, and outriders on horses and oxen along either side, and a few people walking along on foot, as well. This was no casual grouping such as they had sometimes seen west of Yondra Keep; this was a serious expedition.