“What?”
Astryx held Nigel’s hilt to her eye and peered along his blade, scuffing at his edge. “It was quick thinking on your part. You didn’t freeze up. You were careful. Observant. You guarded your tongue.” She nodded at Fern. “And now we’ve skirted trouble best avoided. It was well done.”
“Oh. Thanks?”
For a wild, ridiculous instant she considered asking Astryx if anything made her laugh or roll her eyes, then came to her senses.
Astryx had just thanked her. She had beenuseful. If there was a time to press her luck, it was now.And to forget about running off in the rain with handsome strangers,Fern promised herself.
“After Bycross, I was pretty sure you wanted to talk about something,” she said, with elaborate casualness.
The elf stopped attending to Nigel and slowly laid him athwart her crossed legs. She looked about to say something and then didn’t.
“You don’t talk to people very much, do you?” ventured Fern.
A long pause.
“I don’t. Not so much anymore,” said Astryx at last. Then, almost defiantly, “After enough time, it feels like you’ve had all the conversations.”
Fern forged onward. “That must make it more comfortable to avoid them. Have you hadthisone before?”
The elf blinked, taken aback. Then she surprised Fern again by answering, “Yes.”
“How long ago was that?”
Astryx returned her attention to Nigel. “Before you were born, I’m sure,” she answered, with a hint of something like bitterness. Or regret?
“Is that the last time you traveled with anybody else?”
The elf snorted. “Hardly.” Then, quieter, “Possibly the last time it mattered, though.”
“Ahem. She hadmeto accompany her, of course,” declared Nigel. “Hardly lacking for fellowship, eh, my lady?”
“That sounds pretty lonely,” said Fern. She ignored the shocked noises of indignation that followed.
Astryx’s smilewasbitter now. “That’s the inevitability of a very long life. People come and go, and you remain.”
“It seems a lotmoreinevitable when you’re traveling alone in the wilderness most of the time,” observed Fern. “And it’s not like you’re the only elf in the Territory. Why do you still do it, after all these years? It doesn’t seem like it’s for glory or songs. Why not do something else? You’ve got the time.”
“You suddenly have a lot of questions,” said Astryx, sharply.
Zyll glanced avidly between them.
Fern spread her hands. “I told you every embarrassing thing that’s happened to me in the past few weeks as part of my very stupid crisis of middle age. Maybe it’s fair I know one or two things about you, too, apart from the fact that you hate beingdamp? So, why do you still do it? I sure as hells can’t tell if youlikeit. Who could blame you if you didn’t? It’s wet, and lonely, and cold, and the two swordfights I’ve seen you in so far didn’t even seem to elevate your heart rate. So . . . why?”
Astryx’s mouth thinned. “Here you are with me in the cold, wet, darkness. You could have gone home. Somebody’s even interested enough in you to slip a note under your door. So why aren’t you back there?”
Sudden ire prickled Fern. What had begun as an earnest effort to unearth some of Astryx’s character had turned into a wrestling match with a trout. “Because I can’t go back to the same old thing. I can hardly breathe thinking about it. That’s what I want to understand. How can youstillbe doing it after all this time?”
Astryx looked equally annoyed, stabbing one knee with a finger. “This life is like a sword. It’s the tool I know how to use. I have sharpened it to a keen edge, and it accomplishes the tasks I set it to. It may cut me from time to time, but I know itsvalue. If I put it down, what other tool is there to hand?”
“Oh, hey, can I make a suggestion here?” cried Breadlee, his voice piping from Fern’s cloak pocket. “It’s just when you put it that way, I can’t help but think this clearly rhetorical question has abrilliantanswer that maybe you haven’t fully considered yet—”
Fern yanked him from her pocket and hissed, “This isnotthe time!”
“Indeed! M’lady is right—she has selectedpreciselythe instrument that best suits her life’s work and calling!” Nigel’s voice vibrated with indignation.
“Oh my gods. You don’t know what rhetorical means, do you?Sad.” Breadlee affected unconvincing woe. “Probably the effects of Elder-rust on the mind. I’ve seen it before. Absolutely tragic.”
