That door in his mind shut again, for it was rather too much for anyone to bear for long. But the sense of it stayed with him. That was when, elated and humbled all at the same time, he began to cry quietly. He had always known he was a very small and insignificant thing; he had been called “maggot” so often by the Pieters boys that he had come to think of himself as exactly that—a thing that was not even an insect. But now . . . now he had seen that he wasn’t so insignificant, that he was a part of something huge, and that he would always be part of it, no matter that he would never feel quite worthy of it all.

This time Dallen did not soothe him, since this was not something anyone should be soothed out of. The tears were one part happiness, one part awe, and one part release, and he let them fall.

Finally, he found words at the end of his tears and the end of his wordlessness; he ducked his head under the hot water to wash the tears away and considered what still left his guts in a cold knot. There was still a fear in him, a new fear, and not of Cole Pieters nor what the man might do to him. Mags had made so many mistakes in his few years. And he was tracing a path through a wilderness he didn’t understand. What if he made the most terrible mistake of all?

:What if I do something that makes you hate me?: he thought fearfully.

:You won’t,: Dallen replied firmly. :You can’t, so long as you never close your mind to mine, so long as we make decisions together. Together we will find solutions. They may not be the best, but they won’t be the worst, and if we make mistakes, we will make them together. Is that a bargain?:

He splashed more lukewarm water on his face to wash away the last of his tears. :Sounds right to me.:

:Good. Now, I have an idea. You’ve not ridden me, not really. Come out to the stable. I think it’s time you learned to ride, and ride well. The books can wait for a few candlemarks. Come out into the sun, and let’s see what we can make of you.:

He was climbing out of the tub when Dallen hit him with that idea, and it left him stuck for a moment, half in and half out. :But . . . but . . . but . . .:

:I have my own tack, a Companion almost never goes out to fetch his Chosen without it. It’s made to be secure for even a rider that is hurt or dozing. And you should know by now I will never let you fall. Come out. Borrow a warm coat. Come and be in the snow when it is a pleasure for once.: