"You?" He sniffed, twitching his cape on his shoulders. "I should have realized the first thing a fighter would do would be draw steel—"

"Of course," said Paks, struggling to keep calm. "You hadn't said a word about not drawing, either."

"I didn't think it was necessary," muttered Macenion. "I never dreamed you would, for no reason like that—" Paks snorted, and he went on hurriedly. "If we went through quietly, nothing would happen—"

"You told me nothing could happen." Paks felt the length of her blade, lightly, to see that it was unharmed, then slid it into the scabbard. "If you'd warned me, I wouldn't have drawn. I don't like liars, Macenion." She looked hard at him. "Or cowards. Did you even look to see if I was still alive?"

"I'm no liar. I just didn't think you needed to know." He looked aside a moment. "And I was coming back as soon as I caught Windfoot or Star, to find you—or bury you."

Paks was not at all sure she believed that. "Thanks," she said dryly. "Why did you choose this path—the real reason, this time."

"I told you: it's shorter. And there are ruins—"

"And?"

"And I'd heard of this place."

Paks snorted again. "I'll warrant you had. So you wandered in to see what it looked like, eh?"

"I knew what it looked like." He glared at her. "Don't look at me like that, human. You nearly got us both killed—"

"Because you didn't tell me the truth."

"Because all you thought of was fighting—weapons. I knew what it looked like because I'd spoken to someone who was here—"

"It wasn't you, I suppose, two lifetimes ago, or something?"

"No. It was—a cousin of mine. She said it was quite safe for peaceful folk." He emphasized peaceful. Paks had nothing more to say for the moment. She looked at Windfoot, and spotted Star behind a screen of trees. She clucked softly, holding out her hand. Windfoot looked from her to Macenion, and took a few steps back down the trail. Paks stepped into the middle of it, and clucked again. Windfoot's ears came up; the horse looked at her. Paks walked forward, and took the dangling rein in her hand. The other rein was broken near the bit ring. Macenion was staring at her strangely; she handed him the rein without comment, and called Star. The pony nickered, pushing through the undergrowth. Once out of the trees, she came to Paks at once, pushing her head into Paks's chest.

"All right, all right." Paks untied one side of the pack, and pulled out an apple. They were going soft anyway. "Here." The pony wrapped her lip around the apple and crunched it, dribbling pungent bits of apple from her mouth. Windfoot whuffled, watching Star, and Paks dug out another apple for the horse. "How's your foot?" she asked Macenion, who had watched this silently. "I saw you were limping."