“Well I know you haven’t ridden much at forced pace; if you have any problems, let me know.”

“I will,” was her only reply.

He tried again. “I hope the weather breaks; it’s bad for riding, but I would think it’s worse for crops.”

“Uh-huh.”

“We’ll have to ride right up until dark to make Trevale, but the inn there should make up for the ride. I’ve been there before.” He waited. No response. “Think you can make it that far?”

“Yes.”

“Their wine is good. Their beer is better.”

“Oh.”

“Their hearthcats have two tails.”

“Uh-huh.”

He gave up.

They stopped long after dark when Kris was beginning to go numb in his legs, and staggered into an inn neither of them really saw. The innkeeper saw that both of them were exhausted, and wisely kept his other customers away from them, giving them a table right on the hearth and a good dinner.

The inn was a big one, and catered to traders, carters, and other mercantile travel. The common room was nearly full, and noisy enough that Kris did not attempt conversation. Talia was just as glad; she knew she wasn’t decent company at the moment, and she rather hoped he’d ignore her until she was. After a meal which she did not even taste and choked down only because she needed to fuel her body, they went straight to their beds. She was able to force herself to sleep, but she could do nothing about her dreams. They were tortured and nightmarish, and not at all restful.

They again left before dawn, rising before any of the other guests of the inn, breaking their fast with hot bread and milk before swinging up into their saddles and resuming the journey.

Talia, having found no answers within, began resolutely turning her attention without. The skies had begun clearing, and by late morning they were able to roll up their cloaks and fasten them behind their saddles. When birds began voicing their songs, her spirits finally began to lighten. By noon she had managed to regain enough of her good humor to speak normally with Kris, and the whole mess she’d left behind her began to assume better proportions. She was still conscious of a faint foreboding, but in the bright sunlight it seemed hardly more than the remnants of her nightmares.

Toward midday Talia suddenly perked up and became more like her old self, for which Kris was very grateful. Riding next to a person who strongly resembled the undead of the tales was not his idea of the way to make a journey.

Diplomatic missions were not entirely new to Kris, though he’d not been senior Herald before. This was Talia’s first stint as an envoy, and they really needed to talk about it while it was possible to do so unobserved.