“Use your anger. Cling to it. Let all of the other emotions burn up in it. It’s the most loyal friend you will ever have. It willalwaystake your side,and it will never leave you helpless. Hold it close. When you feel shame or guilt, or anything at all, burn it up in the anger. Focus in on a single point and feed theemotions, one by one, into the flame, until your mind is clear and you can think again.”
“Anger is not useful,” he protested. “Anger clouds your mind.”
“So does shame, and guilt, and self-pity,” she said, taking a step toward him, speaking slowly and emphatically. “So, use your anger to conquer those, and once you do, then you can worry about conquering the anger.”
The Prince was skeptical. He didn’t know if he believed such a thing could really help. He didn’t want to fight, though, and so didn’t respond. As the silence stretched, the girl looked him up and down, seemed to decide that that was the best she could do, and walked away.
The three of them began to move again, all of them on foot to save the horses’ strength for when it was needed. The girl pulled farther ahead, taking point, and the Prince found himself walking beside Tomaz, each of them leading one of the horses.
“What did you do, Tomaz?” the Prince asked after a time. “After you made it to the Kindred and you knew that, for a time at least, you were safe.”
“I drank. Heavily.”
The Prince looked at the big man in surprise. That was quite possibly the last thing he would have expected from the man he had come to know. Tomaz saw him looking and nodded.
“Morning, noon, and night, the Kindred knew where to find me. I made a makeshift lean-to out in the woods and spent my days drunk as a daisy.”
“No matter how many times you say it, that doesn’t make sense,” Leah called lightly from up ahead. “Daisies don’t drink!”
Tomaz smiled slightly but didn’t engage her.
“It wasn’t until General Goldwyn found me and told me the same thing I told Leah, the same thing she just told you, that I was able to find myself again. You can only blame yourself for so much, only take somuch on your shoulders, before you start taking on the problems of the whole world. General Goldwyn and I didn’t agree at first.”
Here Tomaz paused briefly and smiled to himself in a decidedly dark and unpleasant fashion.
“I remember quite distinctly trying to club him to death for telling me what to do with my life. But he stuck with it and took time each day to come and speak with me. Me, nothing more than an ex-Guardian. An Exile. It didn’t occur to me until later that anyone is only ever an Exile by their own choice. The title is just something given to you, a name that you learn to let go of.”
The Prince didn’t know how he felt about this, and his face must have shown his thoughts, because Tomaz held up his hands in mock defense.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to turn you,” the big man rumbled, smiling. “You asked what helped me get through it, and I’m simply telling you.”
The Prince nodded but said nothing.
They lapsed into silence for the next few days, barely speaking more than a word to each other, each lost in their own thoughts. Every morning when the Prince woke, he reached through the Talisman and felt the surrounding forest for signs of pursuit, but no matter how far he reached, he felt nothing but the muted background of forest life.
One day when he opened his eyes and let go of the Talisman, he found the girl watching him. For a moment she just looked at him, and then she spoke:
“Anyone following us?”
The Prince hesitated before responding, trying to see if she was going to mock him, or in some way degrade him for using the Talisman. But she looked simply curious.
“No,” he responded. “There hasn’t been anyone since we left Banelyn.”
“I’m not surprised,” she responded casually. “This is the kind of area only very dedicated hunters or foresters come to. We’re lucky, in spring and early summer this forest is downright homey. But during winter and autumn, it’smiserable. Either covered entirely in snow, or else pouring buckets and buckets of rain down on your head. We caught it right on the cusp, and if we’re lucky we’ll be around Lake Chartain before the rains really arrive.”
It dawned on the Prince that she was trying to have a genuine conversation with him. He had heard of such things: talking about the weather was a way the Commons apparently passed the time.
“Oh—you—yes. Yes, the weather is good. I hope it holds.”
A brief smile crossed her face, but she made no comment on his awkwardness, only continued the conversation.
“Indeed. By the time we get to Lake Chartain we should run into a few more people. That area is more accessible, and there’re a few dirt roads that lead up to the lake itself. I know that there are a few of the more adventurous High Blood who live around the lake, up in the mountains, for hunting. We’ll have to keep a look out for them. Though, chances are we’ll have to go around the east side of the lake, since there’ll be no one there. Maybe a hermit or two, but no one else is crazy enough to live in that miserable stretch of bogs and swamps.”
The Prince, realizing that this might be the longest non-threatening exchange of words he’d ever had with her, listened with rapt attention.
And then something occurred to him—how was it that her teeth were so white? And her hair always looked combed and, if not washed, at least clean.
“How do you do that?” he asked suddenly. “Your teeth and your hair. They look good. How do you keep them clean?”
