I could easily imagine Dardelan poring over his plans one final time, as he was wont to do, or maybe he and his armsmen and women were already abed, knowing they would ride out at dawn ostensibly for the mountains and Obernewtyn. Would Bruna ride with him? I wondered. Certainly among the tribesfolk she would have fought alongside her bondmate, and she had made it very clear that she would not be treated as if she was some precious object that was to be kept safe. And what of Brydda? Reuvan would have told him the young high chieftain’s plan, and I did not doubt he would want to ride down to take part in the sortie. Would he go with the coercers to meet Dardelan in Saithwold, or had the young high chieftain sent word to bid him remain at Obernewtyn?

And Rushton? I had imagined him riding after me, but that had been wishful thinking as much as anything. By now, he would certainly know I had left Obernewtyn, and the most likely thing was that he would ride to the White Valley to see if I had visited Swallow. He could even now be sitting by a campfire with the gypsy discussing where I might have gone. I doubted he would tell Swallow he had offered me a handfasting wreath, but if Aras or Ceirwan had found it on my bed, they would understand its meaning at once, as I had done.

Finally, I thought of the night I had spent with Rushton in Louis Larkin’s shack on the farms, merging mind and body. The weight of grief and longing this roused in me split the coercive net that held all the emotions that had accumulated since Maruman had come for me. I opened myself, unresisting, to the scouring torrent of pain and I wept for a very long time without restraint. Maruman did not come anywhere near me, of course, but to my surprise, Darga curled up close beside me and once, when I thought of Dameon who might even now be headed to Obernewtyn, and was unable to suppress a sob at the knowledge that I would never see him again, the dog reached out to lick my hand.