Description: 1 As the Daystar set and dusk settled over the land, the Companion, the world''s second sun, ruled the short twilight of the cool winter evening, edging every grass blade and tree leaf with a shimmering blue light. Countess Rowena Hamelin rode through a sea of blue shadows and silver, dusky blue under the occasional forest canopy that shadowed the road, brilliant silver in the open meadowlands. For the day''s travel, she had dressed warmly in a long woolen riding habit, with a skirt that swept half to the ground, warm underbreeches and tunic, stout riding boots, and a furred cloak with a hood that kept the chill off her ears. The tang of the cold air chilled her face deliciously, and she could smell snow in the air. Beside the road they traveled, the broad Essentai River sparkled in the muted light. Her heart lifted at the familiar sights of her beloved Airlie, the county that marriage to Ralf had given her and which, over the years, had steadily supplanted in her heart the Tyn-dale and Yarvannet of her youth. This land she now guarded for her ten-year-old son, for the time when Axel became count in his own right. This land she guarded in all its beauties and its folk, as the counts of Airlie had always guarded their meadowlands. A mere woman, certain High Lords would sniff--a mere woman as regent? Nonsense! But Rowena had defied them all, and dared any to diminish her Airlie in any manner, with any threat. Two days before, she had resumed her journey home from the duke''s capital of Darhel to her own Airlie capital, Carandon, with a small company of her marshal, two lady-maids, and a dozen soldiers. The first day they had advanced a good twenty miles, then had quartered in a village by the river, her folk coming out to meet her and apologizing for the simple lodging they could offer, which was all they had. She had spent a pleasant evening at the headman''s house, with her folk craning through windows to watch her as she took the children into her lap and talked to her village folk, at ease with them. As Airlie''s regent, Rowena must flatter her Airlie lords to keep their sure loyalty, but among her commoner folk, who had chosen to adore her since she first arrived in Airlie as Ralf''s young girl-bride, she had no such purposes. And so she had smiled at them as they shyly told her their news of simple things, fish and grain, a fine foal to drop in the spring. She teased them until they dared to joke with her, and then ate a hearty meal and matched glass for glass of wine with the headman, and so paid with a solid headache the following morning. The village folk had gathered in the road as she left, waving after her, and Rowena had waved back. My Airlie, she had thought happily. My heart and spirit, all in you. She breathed in the crisp cold air, remembering, and watched a few isolated snowflakes twist down from the sky. A gathering storm over the mountains had threatened snow all day, but the racing icetrails had never thickened as they rode gently along the river road. When the road crested to overlook the long descent into Airlie''s southern meadowlands, Rowena saw a herd of winter fawn run leaping across the grass far below, long-legged and graceful. The blue twilight gleamed on their dappled hides. She reined her horse to a stop and watched them run. "Good hunting, my lady?" her liegeman Stefan suggested, eagerness in his voice. Roger Carlisle, the young captain of her soldiers, turned around in his saddle, adding his own look of sudden interest. Stefan and Roger no doubt found this placid ride through forest and meadow a bit thin in adventures. Roger had that same lean look she liked so much in Stefan, and she felt fond of him, as she felt so often fond of the fine young men now entering her service, one by one. She eyed both of them reprovingly. "Are you tired of riding guard on me, Roger?" she asked. "I think my soldiers are never bored in my service, whatever I ask of them. Don''t you agree, Lord Heider?" She turned to her marcher lord, and saw his grin. Lord Heider of Arlesby had joined them with a troop of his soldiers near midday a few miles beyond the village, wishing, he said, to guide her through his borderlands as courtesy. Stout and flaxen-haired, Heider had a wicked wit and eyes that saw farther than most. Rowena highly doubted Heider had ridden forth from his comfortable manor into this winter weather, breathless for the sight of herself, and, indeed, he had another purpose, as Heider usually did. During their ride through the afternoon, with grace and not enough to annoy, Heider had steadily probed her with questions about her nephew, Earl Melfallan Courtray, the new earl of Yarvannet. She had warned Melfallan that the more astute of the Allemanii lords were watching him, and Heider''s overt interest confirmed her suspicions. When a young falcon rose into sight, the huntsmen below always took special note. Heider bowed in his saddle. "Of course, my lady," he said smoothly. "How could they dare?" Perhaps hearing a reproof in Heider''s tone, Roger promptly saluted. "I never argue with my countess," he avowed. "A prudent young man," Rowena said. "Stefan could learn from you." She looked at her liegeman, and earned herself only an impudent grin. She had become too indulgent, it seemed: these pleasant young men rarely feared her now, as was proper. She frowned warningly at Stefan, and only made his smile grow wider. Her lapse was confirmed by Heider''s chuckle, but, sadly, one could not glare properly at Airlie''s principal marcher lord. "Winter fawn are good eating, my lady," Roger ventured, then put his hand on his breast, all innocence, when she looked at him. "I dread border rations and cold camps without a fire. Winter fawn have to be cooked, and cooking means a fire and that means warmth." He pretended a shiver and rubbed his arms briskly. Rowena glared, but Roger was undented, no doubt learning his manners from Stefan: they were close friends. "Winter is settling in, countess," Stefan chimed in. "I could freeze my breeches off tonight. And there''s this, too: if I froze my breeches, so might you, and your liegemen must always think of your comfort and safety." He bowed genially in his saddle. "Don''t you agree, Lord Heider?" One of the soldiers behind them chuckled, too audibly for prudence. Rowena turned in her saddle to glare at him, and got wide grins back from the lot. Yes, she had badly slipped in her rule. None of her folk feared her: this would not do. "Good eating," Stefan said. "Warmth," Roger added fervently. "What an outrage!" Heider declared, now laughing outright. "Already your authority is slipping, my lady. Listen to them!" "I will think of something suitably vile for punishment," Rowena promised. She glanced sidewise at Heider. "As I foully punish all my Airlie lords, usually for nothing important." Heider grinned. "Oh, I''ve noticed that, my lady. That''s why all your Airlie lords love you, and would have no other lady to govern them." He bowed in his saddle, as neatly as Stefan. "Winter fawn is good eating," Heider suggested. Rowena turned back round in her saddle, and considered the leaping shapes racing across the meadow. "Hmm." "It wouldn''t take long," Stefan said with sudden hope flaring in his young face. He obviously hadn''t expected her to consider it. "Horses can''t outrace winter fawn," Rowena countered. "Neither can shire wolves, but they catch them." Stefan tapped his blond head. "Strategy, my lady. Sometimes winter fawn don''t out-think a pack." "And you can go whooping along with your pack, you and Roger racing your pretty mares at top speed as you love to do--whether you catch a fawn or not." "Well--" Stefan grinned, abashed--how incredibly young they were! He glanced hopefully at Roger, and they traded an eager look before both young heads swiveled back to her. "But it''s for your sake, countess," Stefan said fervently, pressing his hand to his heart. "For good eating and a fire." His eyes danced with laughter, and Rowena smiled fondly at him despite herself, and saw her Airlie in his handsome face. She snorted. "All right, then. For my sake--but don''t take too long. And don''t take too many of my soldiers for your pack, Stefan." "Yes, my lady," Stefan said eagerly. "Walter, toss me your lance. You--you, and you," he said, pointing randomly at three of their soldiers, "come with us. My Destin will leave you all in the dust of her heels, but you can try to keep up, vain as that hope is." "So you say, Stefan," Roger retorted stoutly. Stefan laughed, and he plunged off the road and raced down the grassy slope toward the distant herd, the others in instant pursuit. "Do we ride much farther tonight, my lady?" Lord Heider asked her courteously. She shrugged. "We probably should," she said. "I wish I had more villages along this stretch of river; I prefer sleeping in a bed, pampered by my lady-maids." She smiled at Tess, whose nose was pinched red with cold, bundled although she was to her eyebrows. Tess was not an outdoors person, never had been, and the new one, Natalie, was obviously even less: both her maids looked miserable, good training for Natalie but not entirely fair to Tess. "Do you believe that lie, Lord Heider?" "I will believe anything you want me to, countess," he avowed. "Of that I''m sure," she retorted wryly. Rowena stood in her stirrups to stretch her legs, then sniffed the cold wind blowing up the slope. In the distance on the road ahead, she saw the dark speck of an approaching horseman--but, no, there were two such specks. Somehow her marshal had acquired a companion, and she idly wondered why. She nodded to Heider absently and heeled her gelding forward. Sir Godric had ridden ahead to fi

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