"Well, you're certainly smug today," Elspeth finally said to Gwena, when, for the fourth time, a sensation as of someone humming invaded the back of her mind. She pushed her hat up on her forehead and wiped away the sweat that kept trickling into her eyes.
"what?" Gwena replied, her ears flicking backwards. "What on earth do you mean?"
"You were humming to yourself," Elspeth told her crossly. "If you were human, you'd have been whistling. Tunelessly, might I add. It's damned annoying when someone is humming in your head; it's not something a person can just ignore, you know."
"I'm just feeling very good," Gwena replied defensively, picking up her pace a little, to the surprise of Cymry, who hurried to match her, hooves kicking up little clouds of dust. "Is there anything wrong with that? It's a lovely summer day." Oh, really? "A candlemark ago you were complaining about the heat."
"Well, maybe I'm getting used to it." Gwena tossed her head, her mane lashing Elspeth's wrist, and added, "Maybe it's you. Maybe you're just being testy." Her mind-voice took on a conciliating tone. "Is it the wrong moon-time, dear?"
"No it's not, as you very well know. Besides, that has nothing to do with it." Elspeth snapped, without thinking. "Skif is being a pain in the tail..
"Skif is falling in love with you," Gwena replied, dropping the conciliating tone. "You could do worse."
"I know he is, and I couldn't do worse," she said, conscious only of her annoyance. "I'm not talking about differences in rank or background, either.
And don't you start playing matchmaker. He's a very nice young man, and I'm not the least interested in him, all right?" All right, all right," Gwena said, sounding surprised at her vehemence.
"Forget I said anything." Gwena closed her mind to her Chosen, and Elspeth sighed. It wasn't just Skif and his problem that was bothering her-or even primarily Skif.
It was something else entirely.
It was a feeling. One that had been increasing, every step she rode toward Lythecare. The feeling that she was being herded toward something, some destiny, like a complacent cow to the altar of sacrifice.
As if she were doing what she "should" be doing.
And she didn't like it, not one tiny bit.
Everything had fallen into place so very neatly; she could almost tally up the events on her fingers. First, Kero showed up, with a magic sword. Then, Elspeth, having seen real magic at work, firsthand, just happened to get the idea that Valdemar needed mages.
Then, Kero just happened to back that up, having had to deal with mages herself in her career.
All that could have been mere coincidence. But not the rest. Why was it that within a month, she was attacked by an assassin who may have been infiltrated into Haven magically, there was a magic attack on a major Border post-manned by Kero's people, so an accurate report got back, and the Council, for some totally unknown reason, seemed to be forced into letting her go look for mages?
And lo, as if in a book, Kero just happened to have kept up contact with her old mage, who happened to have kept up contact with his old teacher, who happened to be Kero's uncle and doubly likely to cooperate.
No one had stopped them on this trek, no one had even recognized them as far as Elspeth knew. Everyone was so helpful and friendly it was sickening. Even the mercs seemed to take her stories at face value. There was no sign of Ancar or his meddling. Everything was ticking along quietly, just like it was supposed to occur.
They were barely a candlemark away from the turnoff for Lythecare.
And the Companions were so smug about something she could taste it.
Gwena was humming again.
And suddenly she decided that she had had enough. that is it.
She yanked so hard on her reins that Gwena tripped, went to her knees, and scrambled back up again with a mental yelp-and Cymry very nearly ran into her from behind.
She turned to look at him; he stared stupidly back at her, as if wondering if she had gone mad.
"That's it," she said. "That is it. I am not playing this game anymore. ) "What?" Now Skif looked at her as if certain she had gone mad.
"I am being herded to something, and I don't like it," she snapped, as much for Gwena's ears as his. "I did want to do this, and Valdemar certainly needs mages, but I am not going to be guided by an invisible hand, as if I were a character in a badly-written book! This is not a foreordained Quest, I am not in a Prophecy, and I am not Playing this game anymore." With that, she dismounted and stalked off the side of the road to a clearing. Like seemingly all wayside clearings in this part of jkaroughtha, it was a bit of grass, surrounded by fenced fields of grain, with a couple of dusty, tall bushes, and a very small well. She sat down beside the well defiantly and crossed her arms.
Skif dismounted, his expression not the puzzled one she had expected but something she couldn't read. He walked slowly over to her, the Companions following with her reins trailing on the ground.
"Well?" she said, staring up at him.
He shrugged, but the conflicting emotions on his face convinced her that he knew something she didn't.
"I am not moving," she said, firmly, suppressing the urge to cough as road dust went down her throat. "I am not moving, until you tell me what you know about what's going on." He looked helplessly from side to side; then his Companion whickered, and looked him in the eyes, nodding, as if to say, "You might as well tell her." I thought so. She glared at Gwena, who flattened her ears. "You should have told me in the first place."
"It-was the Companions," Skif said, faintly. "They, well, they sort of-ganged up on their Heralds, when you first wanted to go looking for mages. The Heralds that didn't want to let you go, like your mother-well, they kind of got bullied."
"They what?" she exclaimed, and turned to Gwena, surprise warring with other emotions she couldn't even name.
"It had to be done," Gwena replied firmly. "You had to go. It was important."
That's not all," Skif said, looking particularly hangdog. "For one thing, they absolutely forbid you to be told what they were doing. For another, they're the ones that suggested Quenten in the first place. They said he was the only way to an important mage that they could trust."
"I knew it!" she said, fiercely. "I knew it, I knew it! I knew they were hock-deep in whatever was going on! I knew I was being herded like some stupid sheep!"
She turned to Skif, ignoring the Companions. "Did they say anything about the Shin'a'in?" she demanded. "If I'm going to do this, I am by damn going to do it MY way.,,
"Well," he said, slowly, "No. Not that I know of."
"We don't know anything about the Shin'a'in Goddess," Gwena said, alarm evident in her mind-voice. "She's not something Valdemar has ever dealt with. We're not sure we trust Her."
"You can't manipulate Her, you mean," she replied angrily.
"No. She could be like Iftel's God; She could care only for the welfare of Her own people. That's all. We know some of what She is and does-but it's not something we want to stake the future of Valdemar on." Gwena's mind-voice rose with anxiety. Elspeth cut her off.