"It's not broken," said Railu. "But that's a nasty gash, and there'll be a lot of bruising."

"Yow 'xpect horses to kick," said Arclant. "Not cows."

"I don't know, I think I've seen more injuries due to cows. Anyway, let's get this cleaned up and then I'll  put a few stitches in."

As she worked she sensed movement in her peripheral vision. Focused on her patient, she didn't give it much thought until she heard herself addressed. "Miss Railu…"

"I'm kind of busy right now, Lutrin."

"Yes, ma'am, but I thinked yow should know. There'm a message come on the wing."

"For me?"

"Yes ma'am, Rhenya knows how yowr name looks in writin'."

Rhenya was better at reading than she usually let on. It could be a dangerous thing for a slave to admit, but Lutrin wouldn’t blab. "I'll look at it in a minute."

"Yes ma'am. An'…"

"There's more?"

"Some ladies come. Askin' for yow."

That was more of a puzzle, but first things first…  "They'll have to wait a few minutes too. Or did you leave them back at the house?"

"Rhenya's lookin' after most on 'em, but one come wi' me."

Railu, readying the first suture, did not look up, but she did raise her voice. "I'll be a few minutes." Whoever you are.

"I can wait," came the reply. "Take as long as you need."

The voice itself was unfamiliar, but the accent took her back fifteen years. Dawnsingers…

She finished suturing, bandaged the leg and issued strict instructions not to put weight on it for at least a week. Finally she looked at the newcomer. She was a tall woman, a head taller than Lutrin in front of her. Face and neck had a spare leanness just the healthy side of gaunt. Twin braids of dark copper hair framed the face; if she was a Dawnsinger, it must be a wig. Behind her, a rangy roan mare cropped avidly at the grass, ignoring Railu’s own mount a few yards away. 

"Railu," the woman said, making the sun-circle gesture of the Dawnsingers. "Pleased to meet you at last. I've heard a lot about you. But let me introduce myself. My name is Evisyn."

"Oh my… you're the Master Prime!" In that moment Railu felt like a Novice again. She had to remind herself that she was no longer a Dawnsinger, had not been for nearly half her lifespan. Keeping her gaze level, she said, with perfect honesty, "I'm honoured to meet you. Jerya speaks very highly of you."

"The regard is mutual," said Evisyn.

They mounted. Railu aided Lutrin to get up behind her. The girl gripped tightly around her waist as the horses swung into motion.

"Speaking of Jerya…" said Railu, "Did you bring the message with you, Lutrin?"

"I did, ma'am, but… it's in my pocket."

She saw the problem. "And you don't want to let go till we stop."

"No, ma'am. Not less'n I have to, ma'am."

That was brave: she knew how Lutrin felt about horses. "It can wait," she said. "And, Lutrin, you really don't have to call me ma'am all the time."

Back home in the kitchen, Railu settled her glasses on her face, then opened the message. A skinny strip of paper, stubbornly trying to return to its tight curl around the pigeon's leg. On the outer face, her name in capitals, 'Duncal by Drumlenn' the whole of the address. She turned it over and smoothed it out, wondering if she would require the second pair of glasses, the magnifying ones, a notion she'd got from a friend of Lady Pichenta's, an accomplished painter of miniatures. But the message was brief, meaning it could be written large enough. R. Would be most grateful if you were able to come as soon as convenient. Love, J.

That was enigmatic, and perhaps concerning, but it didn't sound like an emergency.

#

"I don't suppose Jerya's here at the moment?"

"No. We don't see so much of her these days, now she's… Have you come straight from the Crossing?" Evisyn confirmed that they had. "Then you won't be up to date with the news. I'll fill you in in just a moment. But you'll be needing some refreshment."

She showed them through to the parlour, encouraged them to make themselves comfortable, then extricated Lutrin from the brewhouse. "Dem gotten guests," she Pattered." Chai, kahvi, cake, presto. She prend?"

"Me prend ben," said Lutrin, evidently delighted to be relieved from cleaning duties.

Railu returned to the parlour. "Analind isn't with you this time?"

"No," said Evisyn, wigless, massaging her scalp. "Having had tantrums until the Conclave agreed I could make the Crossing myself, I thought I should leave my most trusted Masters in situ. But I have brought someone you'll remember." She looked to her right. A small brown woman, still wearing a dark wig, was smiling at Railu.

Recognition dawned. "Oh, my word. Tutor Yanil?"

"The very same."

"I'm so happy to see you… and Jerya will be thrilled."

"Happily, the Healers judged me sufficiently spry to make the trip. And the refuges do mitigate the hardships now… it's nothing to what you and Jerya must have endured."

"It had its moments," agreed Railu. "One word of advice, if you don't mind. You might pass more easily if there was a little grey in your wig."

"Well, no need to worry about that right now." Yanil pulled off the wig, just as Lutrin came in, bearing a tray. She stopped abruptly, mouth falling open. Railu understood; they must look like a bunch of slaves disporting themselves in the master's parlour. In most households, any slave caught doing anything of the kind would be lucky to escape with a mere whipping. "No fret," she said quickly. "She-she be'st…" There was no Patter alternative. "Dawnsingers," she finished in Plain. "Prend?"

"Me prend ben," said Lutrin, springing into action again.

"Well," said Evisyn as the door closed again. "Am I right in thinking that it's another day's journey to Jerya's home—Kirwaugh, isn't it?"

"Yes, but she isn't there. She's mostly at Skilthorn these days. Hedric's uncle died in spring, so he inherited, which means she's Countess now."

"You'll have to explain what that means."

Railu smiled. "I think Jerya's still trying to fathom that herself."

"Is it further from here?"

"I haven't been yet. Jerya's only been there for a few weeks herself and she's thrown herself into work, making changes—well, you know Jerya."

Evisyn smiled. "I only knew her for a few weeks, but she left a vivid impression."

"Renovating the slave quarters and—but your question was how far it is. Yes, it's further. It's possible in a day's ride, given a good horse, but you'd need to start at first light, even at this time of year. Right after Dawnsong," she added, recalling who her guests were.

Evisyn pursed her lips pensively. "And is it on the way to anywhere else?"

"Not Denvirran; you could say it's on the way to Troquharran. It's not too far from a river, so you could take a boat. That's usually quicker than riding, at least downstream."

"All in all," said Evisyn, "I'd like to see Jerya first. Get her view on things, what's changed since last year. And give myself a few days to see more of the Five Principalities. It's all very well listening to briefings and reading reports, but I still believe there's no substitute for seeing for yourself. Well, that's why I'm here."

"Well, you want to see Jerya, and she's just asked me if I can go to see her too. Maybe we can travel together?"

Evisyn smiled. "I'd like that; but we had planned to go to Denvirran first. Maybe we’ll see you at Skilthorn?"