She caught herself falling asleep again, and jerked herself back up into wakefulness. She threw back the covers and swung her legs out of bed before she succumbed a second time. A brief trip to the bathing chamber and a splash of cold water solved the problem; the water was cold enough to make her gasp, but she was certainly awake now.

I don’t like the idea of reading someone’s thoughts without them knowing, she decided, while climbing into her breeches and tunic. It doesn’t seem fair. Maybe if the circumstances were really extraordinary, like going after Dierna alone, it would be all right. I mean, with odds like that, you have to use every advantage you’ve got. But if I was just one-on-one-no, it’s not right.

She tightened the laces on her tunic, and reached for stockings and boots. Besides, if I used it a lot, pretty soon I wouldn’t be able to hide its existence. Then what? People would hate me, or they’d be afraid of me. It wouldn’t be an advantage anymore, it’d be a handicap. No, I don’t want that; I’ve had my fill of being different.

That led to the same problem that had been troubling her since she came here.

What’s wrong with me? she asked herself unhappily, as she laced her boots tight to her legs. Why is it that I don’t want what everyone else does? Every other girl seems to want a husband and a house full of babies. Even Grandmother and Tarma had families, and if Tarma hadn’t been Swordsworn, she’d have raised her own children instead of helping with Grandmother’s. She shook her head, her earlier cheer gone. I don’t like children, and if anyone else knew that, they’d think I was some kind of monster. I hate being cooped up inside, and I don’t want to have to spend my life taking care of everybody except myself! But all the priests have to say about it is how women should rejoice that they can sacrifice themselves for their families. Blessed Trine, am I the one who’s crazy, or is it everybody else?

But since there was no possible way to answer that question, she jerked the laces of her boots tight with a snarl of frustration, and went out to take out her ill-humor and uncertainty on the pells.

Tarma’s private practice ring was indoors rather than outside; a second hollowed-out cave beside the stables, this one with the walls left rough and convoluted. She’d long ago tired of practicing in the cold and wet—and the mere thought of practicing in the snow was enough to make her shiver. Besides, back when she and Keth had held the Keep, she’d gotten used to having an indoor practice ground. This one was much smaller, but she didn’t need room for twenty pupils anymore.