She opened her eyes cautiously. It was like looking up through water, but bearable. She felt Kris touch her arm, and saw that he was riding beside her.

“This couldn’t have been on purpose,” she asked, slowly, “Could it?”

He gave the idea serious thought; she could tell by the blank expression on his face. “I don’t think so,” he said at last. “They couldn’t have known what hostel we’d overnight in, and they couldn’t have counted on goatsfoot being available. They swore they only had that one batch, that it was in a lot of edible fungus some boy sold them this morning. I made them dump the rest of the porridge in the pig trough. No, I think it’s just a damned bad accident. Can you go on?”

She closed her eyes, and took a kind of internal tally. “Yes.”

“All right, then let’s get on with it. I’d like to get you to bed as early as we can.”

But Talia wondered—because with the relay towers, someone could have known what hostel they intended to stay in—and as a former farmchild, she knew that some mushrooms could be preserved indefinitely when dried....

Kris pushed both of them to the limit, hoping to get Talia into the haven of a bed long before sundown. He managed; better still, that night they were the only travelers making use of the hostel. The quiet did her some good; so did the rest. Unfortunately, he knew from old lessons that there was no remedy for goatsfoot poisoning except time.

The accident was more than annoying; he really needed her abilities on this trip. Without them, they’d have to go on wit alone.

With a good night’s sleep she was back to normal—except that her Gift was completely unreliable. She was either completely blocked, or so wide open she couldn’t sort out what emotion was coming from whom.

Neither one of them wanted her to try projecting under these conditions. They couldn’t predict what would happen and didn’t really want to find out.

So he pushed to make the best time they could to the next hostel—and hoped they could make training, wit, and skills serve.

When Kris stopped to try to inquire about hostels at noon, people seemed overly quiet, and not inclined to talk much beyond the simple courtesy of answering their questions. And the townspeople in the hamlet they finally reached were the same; hurrying to be about their business and showing only furtive curiosity about the strangers who had ridden in.

That night the Guard at the relay station they reported to was cold and somewhat brusque, and advised them against changing their plans for stopping at Ilderhaven.