Clouds were beginning to scud in again, darkening the sky, and the wind gusted from the south. It was like that in Heredon in the fall. Weak fronts of cloud passed overhead in bursts, with storms that rarely lasted more than an hour or three.

Binnesman brought the mounts down to the stream. The horses all quenched their thirst, then stopped drinking at Binnesman’s command. Afterward, some grazed in the short grass at the edge of the stream; most just slept on their feet.

Yet Raj Ahten’s great mount stood by the water, restless, matching Binnesman’s mood. After a few moments, Binnesman said, “I must leave you now, but I will meet you at Longmot. Ride fast, and there is little on this earth that you need fear.”

“I am not worried,” Gaborn answered. Binnesman’s uncertain look suggested that he disagreed, that he felt Gaborn should be concerned. Yet Gaborn had spoken courageously only to ease the wizard’s mind.

Binnesman mounted the big warhorse that had belonged to Raj Ahten. “Try to get some rest. You can only let the animals sleep for an hour or two. By midnight, Raj Ahten will be free to come after you again—though I shall lay a spell to protect you.”

Whispering some words, Binnesman pulled a sprig of some herb from the pocket of his robe. He rode forward, dropped it on Gaborn’s lap. Parsley.

He said, “Keep it. It will absorb your scent, hide it from Raj Ahten and his soldiers. And before you leave here, Gaborn, pluck a single hair from your head and tie it in seven knots. Should Raj Ahten chase you then, he’ll find himself wandering in circles.”

“Thank you,” Iome and Gaborn said. Binnesman turned his great steed and galloped off in the dark, heading south.

Iome felt tired, dreadfully tired. She glanced around for a soft spot of ground to lay her head on. Gaborn reached out, took her shoulder, guided her toward him, so she could rest her head in his lap. It was a surprising gesture. Intimate.

She lay there, closed her eyes, and listened to him eat a plum. His stomach made surprising noises, and she couldn’t quite feel comfortable.

Gaborn reached down, gently stroked her chin, her hair. She’d have thought his touch would feel . . . reassuring, right. But it didn’t.

Instead it made her nervous. Partly, she feared rejection. Though he’d said he loved her, she did not believe he could love her deeply.

She was too ugly. Of all who are ugly on the earth, she thought, I am among the worst. A frightened corner of her mind whispered to her, And you deserve to be ugly.

It was the endowment, of course. Iome could never remember having felt this way before. So devoid of worth. Raj Ahten’s rune of power pulled at her.