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who asks you for it. This tells them that we helped you along the way.” He handed it to her, and she placed it carefully in her new belt pouch. “If you need anything, just ask people dressed the way I am, and they’ll be sure to help you. We’re part of the Army, the Roadguards.”
    Talia was all but incoherent with surprise at her good fortune. Not only had she not been punished or even scolded for her actions, not only had she not been sent back home, but it seemed that she was actually being rewarded with the opportunity to go where she’d never dared to dream she’d be allowed! “Th-th-ank you! B-b-right Lady, it just doesn’t seem like enough just to say thank you—”
    The guard chuckled, his eyes disappearing in the smile-crinkles. “Young miss, it’s us who’ll remember you with thanks, come tax-time! Anything else you need?”
    Rolan seemed to think it was time they were on their way again, and began moving impatiently off. “No, nothing,” she called over her shoulder as he waved a casual farewell.
    Rolan quickly resumed his normal pace and the village fell rapidly behind them, so quickly that Talia had only just realized that she didn’t even know the name of the place or her benefactor when it was gone from view.
    â€œOh, well,” she said to Rolan as she bit hungrily into a lightly spiced meat pie, “I’m not likely to forget the baking of Darowife. Even Isrel never made anything that tasted like this , not even for feastdays!”
    She looked with curiousity at the brass “chit.” It bore a number, and the word “Sweetsprings.”
    â€œSweetsprings?” she mused. “That must be the town. I wish I knew what was going on! I’ve never read or heard anything about Companions running away before, but he acted like it happens all the time.”
    She passed through another village near to suppertime. This one was much smaller than Sweetsprings had been; mostly a collection of houses and huts around a blacksmith’s forge. It was apparently too small to warrant one of the blue-clad Guards, but the people seemed just as friendly. They waved at her as she cantered past, bridle bells ringing, and didn’t seem to find anything at all disturbing in the sight of a slightly grubby girl atop a Herald’s Companion. Talia could not help contrasting their friendliness with the reaction she’d have gotten from Holderfolk. At best, her own people would have stared, then coldly turned their backs on such unseemly behavior from a girl-child. At worst, they’d have tried to stop her; tried to pull her from Rolan’s back to incarcerate as a thief.
    Once again, as night was about to fall, Rolan found a Waystation. The Road and the River had parted company not long since, but this shelter boasted a well, so they didn’t lack water. Talia discovered among the odds and ends the guard had assembled for her a little box of soft, homemade soap and a washcloth, as well as a currycomb and brush for Rolan. When the moon rose, both of them were much cleaner.
    She decided (somewhat reluctantly) to save the pies for her midday meals and manage with porridge for the rest. Once again she fed the two of them, and fell soundly asleep in spite of the relative discomfort of the primitive Waystation.
    Â 
    On the third day of the journey, Talia was sufficiently used to the novelty of riding Companion-back that she found her mind drifting to other things. The position of the sun would remind her that at home she’d have been at some particular task, and she found herself wondering what the Holding was making of her disappearance. There wasn’t anyone in her extended family she was really close to anymore, not since Andrean had been killed in a raid and they’d sent Vrisa as Underwife to old man Fletcher. Of all her kin, only those two had ever seemed to really love her—even Father’s Mother