There was no other word to describe Jakyr’s abrupt departure but “fled.” And when he was out of sight—which happened so quickly that Mags suspected he had deliberately chosen the route that would put buildings and trees between them the soonest, the woman looked at Dallen. “Well met, Dallen,” she said, reaching out and giving the Companion a friendly pat on the neck. “So you finally got you a Chosen?”

Dallen nodded. She smiled, and then looked up at Mags. “And what would your name be, then, lad?”

“Mags.” He stared down at her, feeling rather dumbfounded. Whatever had just happened here left him entirely in the dark.

“Don’t mind Jak. He and I have some history betwixt us.” She sighed. “Not always good history, especially toward the parting end of it. And now I can’t help myself. Whenever I see him, I goad him.” She shook her head. “Come along, we’ll turn Dallen over to his minders and get you in the hands of yours.” She turned and headed up a stone-bordered, well-swept path, without looking back to see if he was going to come along.

Feeling rather as if all control of everything had been snatched out of his hands, Mags dismounted and followed.

Chapter 7

7