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wood she’d used, but without an axe, that simply wasn’t possible. She’d have felt a lot guiltier had it been Midwinter instead of Midsummer, and she’d really used very little of what seemed to be a plentiful supply. Once all was in as good order as she’d found it, she saddled Rolan and they trotted back to the Road.
    The morning passed swiftly. Not only was every moment with Rolan a delight and a treasure, but now there was more to see as well. The dense woods began to give way to cultivated fields; in the distance she saw stock grazing, and once or twice a cottage, shaded by trees and cooled by ivy. Then, just after the sun crossed overhead, the Road curved and dove down into a village, set in a small valley.
    Talia couldn’t help but stare about her with amazed eyes; this village was very different from the one she’d lived near all her life. The Holderfolk wore nothing but somber colors, nothing gayer than a dull saffron; but here it seemed that everyone had a touch of bird-bright color about him. Even the shabbiest had at least a scarf or hair ribbon of scarlet or blue. Some (the look of them showing they were prosperous folk who needn’t worry about soiling their clothing with work) were dressed entirely in colors. Even the houses were festive with bright designs on their whitewashed walls, and the shutters were painted to match. Those houses looked extremely odd to Talia—why, they couldn’t have held more than one man, his Firstwife, and a few littles! There was obviously no room at all for Underwives and their littles. Talia wondered if each Wife had her own house, then giggled at the unseemly (but amusing) notion of the Husband running from house to house in the night, intent on doing his duty with each of his Wives.
    The village itself, besides looking prosperous and well-cared-for, was also unenclosed; a startling sight to one who was used to seeing walls and stockades around inhabited places.
    She reined in Rolan at the sight of a man standing beside a small hut positioned just at the verge of the Road where it first entered the village proper. He looked as if he must be some sort of guard or official; he was dressed in garments of a bright blue that matched, from boots to hat. He had a quiver of short arrows on his back, and Talia saw a crossbow leaning beside him against the wall of the hut.
    The sight of him alarmed her no small amount—in her experience, men (especially men in obvious positions of authority) were creatures to be feared. They held the power of life and death over the members of their families; they decreed the rewards of the obedient and the punishments of the rebellious. How many times had the Elders or her Father deemed it necessary that she be beaten or sent into isolation for far, far less than she’d done in the past two days? Too many times to count easily, for certain sure. There was no indication that this stranger might not order the same punishments for her now; or worse, send her back to the Holding. Yet she was going to have to speak to someone ; she’d been searching for nearly a day now and hadn’t found any clue to where this Companion belonged. He seemed to have a friendly, open face, and she took her courage in hand to address him.
    â€œP-pray excuse me, sir,” she said politely, stuttering a little, “but have you seen a Herald who’s lost his Companion?”
    Her question seemed to startle him, and he approached the two of them slowly, as if trying not to frighten her (leaving his crossbow behind, Talia noted with relief).
    â€œNo indeed, young miss,” he replied, “Why ask you?”
    â€œI found this Companion alone on the Road yesterday,” she answered hesitantly, still not sure she hadn’t done wrong despite the fact that it didn’t seem he was going to take her into custody or hail her before a Council of Elders just yet, “And it seemed to me I should take him back to