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wonder he was out in the middle of nowhere. If there were a good smith nearby, he’d starve to death,” said Benroln sourly as his sturdy bay kept pace with the little horse Tier rode. Brewydd had appropriated Skew for the ride back to the clan’s camp with Tier’s blessing. Lehr had had to carry the exhausted healer back to the horses, but the smith’s wounded would recover.
    â€œThe smith’s work is good enough by the local standards,” Tier told Benroln. “You can’t expect master-level bladecrafting from a man who makes mostly nails and plowshares. If you’d asked for a plow, doubtless you’d have been better pleased.”
    â€œWe have not the slightest need for a plow,” grumbled Benroln. “Or nails either. But either would have done us more good than three braces of ill-balanced, rough-handled knives.”
    â€œThen your own smith can use the metal to make something more suitable,” soothed Tier. “You know as well as I that the real benefit you gained this day is that next time you—or any Traveler—comes by here, you will be welcomed and treated fairly.”
    â€œIs Benroln still complaining?” Seraph came up to ride by Tier’s side. She gave Benroln a steady look. “If you’d reallywanted a good bargain, you’d have driven it before we killed the mistwight and Brewydd healed his family. Afterward, you get what he gives and be grateful for it.”
    Benroln muttered an excuse and dropped back to talk with someone who would listen to him with a more sympathetic ear.
    â€œThe knives aren’t so bad,” said Tier. “They’re just not up to the standards of the clan’s smith.”
    Seraph watched him closely. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œMy knees,” he lied. She saw too much with her clear-eyed gaze. “They’ll be fine.”
    He would lose her, he thought. She would stay with him for a while because the children needed her and because she’d given her word to him. But the boys were young men already, and their daughter was no longer a helpless child. How long would his love cage her from the life she was born to?
    She’d grown into a woman who could deal with the responsibilities she’d come to him to escape. She was Raven, and he thought perhaps for the first time he understood what that meant.
    â€œWe can stop for a while and give your knees a chance to rest,” said Seraph. “Brewydd could probably use the rest as well.”
    â€œNo”—he shook his head—“Brewydd is tired, but all she has to do is sit on Skew until we make it back to camp. As for my knees, I just walked too far today. My knees will be fine. No fun, but a long way from unbearable.”
    Unbearable was that he could see no way to hold Seraph without destroying her; by comparison his knees were nothing. “I’ll be fine.”
    Midmorning the next day they came to a crossroads, and Benroln called a halt. As soon as everyone had stopped he strode directly to Tier and Seraph.
    â€œWe are called to the southern fork,” he said in a tight voice.
    Seraph smiled at him. “Is this the first time?”
    Benroln nodded jerkily.
    â€œSome leaders never hear the call,” she told him, then glancing at Tier, she explained. “When the clan’s help is needed, theleader of a clan knows. It spoke to my brother. He told me it’s like a whisper or a tugging string.”
    â€œA string,” said Benroln, his face a little flushed. “It pulls my heart. My father said his father had it—but I never really believed.”
    â€œYou go on then,” said Tier. “We’ll continue west on our own. It’s not far now.”
    Benroln’s face lost the absent look it had held. “You have to come with us. Without you we have only me and the Healer. Brewydd says that there is another Shadowed.”
    Tier looked around. “I see a lot