She had labored for hours over the simple note to Elspeth, tearing up dozens of false starts. It still wasn’t right; she wished she’d been able to find better words to explain why she had overreacted, and nothing she could say would unspeak some of the hurtful things she’d said. The incident was evidence that she and Elspeth had drawn apart during Talia’s interning, and the rift that had come between them needed to be healed, and quickly. She couldn’t help but berate herself for not seeing it when she’d first returned.

Then there was Dirk . . .

She couldn’t help but think she was being cowardly. Anyone with any courage at all would have remained, despite everything. And yet—what could she truly do back there besides fret? Kris was right; Elspeth would refuse to speak with her, and Dirk was out of bounds in the Healers’ hands.

It seemed appropriate that they rode away through darkness, and that the sky was so gloomy and overcast there was no bright dawn at all, merely a gradual lightening of the dark to gray, leaden daylight.

Kris was not very happy with himself at the moment. :I haven’t been doing too well by my friends lately, have I?: he sent to Tantris’ backward-pointing ears.

:No, little brother, you haven’t,: his Companion agreed.

He sighed, and settled himself a little more comfortably in the saddle. Now that he looked back on it, there were things he should have done. He should have told Dirk right off about the way Talia felt—about Dirk, and about himself. When Dirk started acting oddly, he should have had it out with him. He should never have let things get to the point where Dirk was leaning on the bottle to cope.

Lord and Lady, I’d be willing to bet gold he thinks it’s me Talia’s in love with. Gods, gods, I’ve been tearing his heart and soul into ragged bits and I never even noticed. No wonder he picked a fight with me, no wonder he was drinking. Ah, Dirk, my poor brother—I did it to you again. How am I going to make it up to you?

Then there was Talia. He should have believed that Talia wasn’t indulging in a grudge. He should have known, what with all the time he’d spent with her, that she wasn’t inclined to hold grudges, even though she wasn’t inclined to forgive a hurt too easily. He should have believed that her feeling about his uncle was rooted in fact, not dislike. Alberich obviously believed her—and the Armsmaster was hardly noted for making hasty judgments.

:Might-have-beens don’t mend the broken pot,: Tantris said in his mind. :Little brother, why didn’t you do these things?: