Grinsa looked at him. "What?"

"You didn't seem to like E'Menua very much, and he didn't seem fond of you. And I think you and I could be good friends."

"I think so, too, A'Laq," Grinsa said, smiling. "Thank you for saying so."

"Would you consider it?"

The Forelander looked away.

"You can speak honestly with me."

Grinsa rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the man once more. "It's not that I wouldn't be honored to be part of your sept. But I'm not sure that the plain is the right place for my family and me."

O'Tal seemed to consider this for a few moments. If he was angry or insulted, he showed no sign of it. "Where is the right place, then?" he asked eventually.

"I don't know yet. But I should find the a'jeis, as my a'laq asked me to. Please excuse me."

He found the warriors together not far from where he'd been talking to O'Tal, and told them that their a'laq wished to be riding soon. They listened to him in silence, eyeing him warily, but they moved quickly to follow his orders, and within the hour the warriors of E'Menua's sept were ready to follow their new a'laq home.

It seemed that the Fal'Borna were not given to long good-byes. H'Loryn wished Grinsa and L'Norr well, but was more concerned with readying his own men for their ride home. O'Tal was similarly distracted, and he and L'Norr barely acknowledged each other. It seemed that O'Tal's rivalry with E'Menua would not soon be forgotten. He smiled warmly at Grinsa, though. When L'Norr was out of earshot O'Tal said, "If you decide to stay on the plain, let me know. I'd like to hunt with you again. Next time we'll get you a buck."

Grinsa laughed. "Thank you, A'Laq. I'd like that, too."

He rejoined L'Norr and the rest of E'Menua's warriors, and soon they were riding southward back toward the sept.

Their journey home was uneventful. Grinsa had expected that L'Norr would wish to speak with him, but the young Weaver kept to himself, speaking to Grinsa only when he wanted him to convey orders to the other riders. That first night after the Eandi marched away from the battle plain, Grinsa reached out with his magic to speak with Cresenne. He told her about the battle that had been fought and the loss of E'Menua and Q'Daer. Mostly he simply held her and asked about Bryntelle.

As he was about to leave her dream to let her sleep, he remembered to ask how Besh and Sirj were faring.

"They're doing well," she said brightly. "They're heroes."

"They're what?"

And as he listened in stunned silence, Cresenne told him of the sept's battle against the J'Balanar. When she had finished her tale, Grinsa couldn't think of anything to say. He just stood before her, shaking his head, muttering, "Amazing, just amazing."

As he and the Fal'Borna riders drew closer to the sept, Grinsa began to wonder if L'Norr had spoken with D'Pera to let her know that E'Menua had been killed. Grinsa and Cresenne had agreed that it probably wasn't her place to convey such tidings to the n'qlae. But he didn't know what the new a'laq intended to do about this. On the fifth night of their journey back to the sept, he finally decided that as L'Norr's lone Weaver, it was up to him to raise the question.

As usual, L'Norr sat by a small fire, apart from the other warriors. When Grinsa drew near to where L'Norr sat, he called to him by title.

"Yes, what is it?" L'Norr asked, not bothering to look at him.

Grinsa didn't answer until he had reached the fire. "Forgive me, A'Laq. But I was wondering…" He faltered. "I was wondering if you had heard of the raid on our sept."

L'Norr gaped at him. "A raid?"

Grinsa nodded and briefly related what Cresenne had told him about their skirmish with the J'Balanar, taking care to include all that Besh and Sirj had done to protect the sept.

When he'd finished, L'Norr shook his head. "The J'Balanar have no shame. They've always been cowards." He said nothing about the Mettai. Grinsa didn't either; he had a far more difficult matter to discuss with the man.

"I take it then," he said, "that you haven't yet spoken with the n'qlae, to… to tell her of E'Menua's fate."

For some time L'Norr didn't answer, and Grinsa wondered if he had angered the man. But finally L'Norr rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. "I don't know how to tell her." He looked up at Grinsa. "Perhaps you should do it for me. Do you have experience with such things?"

"I could do it for you. But I didn't know if this was something that…"

"That an a'laq is supposed to do for himself?" L'Norr said, finishing Grinsa's thought.

"Yes."

L'Norr nodded slowly, gazing into his fire again. "She's been my n'qlae for nearly as long as I can remember. And now I have to tell her that her husband is dead, and I'm a'laq of the sept. Yes, it's something I have to do. I just don't know how."

"She's strong, A'Laq. She's Fal'Borna. She knew that this might happen."

"You're right. I'll speak with her tonight." He didn't look at Grinsa again.

After a few moments of silence, Grinsa said, "Thank you, A'Laq," and walked away.

The following morning, as they prepared to ride, L'Norr caught Grinsa's eye and nodded once. They didn't speak of their conversation again.

The riders reached the sept two days later. Though they hadn't been gone long, Grinsa's reunion with Cresenne and Bryntelle was sweeter even than it had been when he had returned to the sept with Q'Daer, Besh, and Sirj. Warriors were welcomed home by parents and wives and children, and L'Norr was received as the sept's new a'laq without question.

E'Menua, Q'Daer, and the other warriors who had been killed were honored with song and silence, and that night L'Norr was honored with a somber feast. Grinsa and Cresenne attended, as they were expected to do, though they wanted only to be alone together.

Besh and Sirj, on the other hand, were told courteously but firmly that they were not welcome at the feast. D'Pera sat alone, though Grinsa noticed that throughout the evening her people approached her singly or in pairs and spoke to her quietly. Eventually Grinsa and Cresenne did the same.

It felt awkward to offer his condolences; D'Pera knew all too well that Grinsa and E'Menua hadn't liked each other. But she greeted them graciously.

"We're sorry for your loss, N'Qlae," Grinsa said, as they stood before her. "The a'laq loved you very much. He told me to tell you so."

"You were with him when he died?" Her voice was steady, but tears shone in her eyes.

"I tried to heal him, but there was poison in his blood. I couldn't fight it."

"But you tried. Thank you for that." She hesitated. "You were right about the Mettai. Your wife has told you how they saved us?"

Grinsa nodded, noting to himself that this once she didn't falter at the word "wife."

"Yes, she told me."

"That's twice that they saved us-that all of you saved us. You have our gratitude."

Grinsa wanted to ask if that meant they would let Besh and Sirj leave the sept, but he thought that was a discussion best left for another day. He and Cresenne bowed to the n'qlae and returned to where they had been sitting.

The feast seemed destined to go on through much of the night, but eventually Grinsa and Cresenne left on the pretense of needing to put Bryntelle to bed. Judging from the way Cresenne's friend F'Solya looked at them, though, they weren't fooling anyone.

Back in their z'kal, they put their daughter in her small bed before undressing and slipping under their blankets. After that, Grinsa lost track of the time, caring only for the taste of Cresenne's lips and the soft warmth of her skin.

Later, as they lay together, their desire sated at least for a time, Cresenne said, "So what now?"

Grinsa was running his hands through her hair, and he laughed. "What did you have in mind?"