Uldrid: 3

Although it had been months since he'd seen his family alive, they refused to leave his dreams.

He'd forgotten the last time he'd had a decent night's sleep. No matter how he exhausted himself, he could not prevent their faces intruding upon him during the night. He would feel panic, grief, anger; he would wake feeling no more rested than when he'd closed his eyes.

Grief was slowly killing him. He traveled until his feet could no longer carry him, and whether there was an inn nearby or a barren field he would lie down to sleep, to dream, to chase after his lost family until he shivered awake, sweating and anxious. When he could find an inn he hired whores to distract him. It would work for a few hours, but it only seemed to make the pain worse upon waking.

He would think, as he woke, that the body beside him was that of his wife, his lover, even one of his children— but he would see the whore's face and remember he'd only paid this person to lie there with him.

His family was dead.

He could not rest. He was a bane to all travelers on his path, demanding an audience with all, demanding proof that they were not the evil he sought. Every meeting brought new anger, new hope that he'd finally found release, new despair when he understood that he still could not rest.

He traveled. He searched. He waited.

*

Uldrid had never been to a wedding as a guest of honour. The monks of his order were always welcome to attend weddings in the village, but for Sarah and Cor's day, Uldrid had been invited specifically to attend as their first guest. He stood by them during the ceremony.

He tried not to cry. He felt he looked especially ridiculous when he cried. He almost kept his dignity by chewing on his tongue, and the distraction was nearly enough to keep him from sniffling like an imbecile, but when the ceremony wound down and Sarah and Cor were officially made husband and wife they turned to Uldrid first. Cor yanked him into his arms with a laugh while Sarah smiled and wiped Uldrid's tears with her sleeve. Of course they'd noticed him trying not to make a fool of himself.

That night Uldrid had to scold himself for thinking, even for a moment, that his friends would forget him after they were wed. He sat at their table during dinner, a place that meant they considered him family, adopted brother-in-law; Cor still joked with him and Sarah still found time to smile over at Uldrid and talk about the monastery even with a steady stream of guests coming over to wish her luck. She held his hand while they talked, with Cor leaning over her to maintain a somewhat steady conversation over the music and the guests, and for a while Uldrid forgot there had been a wedding.

The walk back home was giddy and loud. No one had refused wine at dinner, which left every monk among them sailing on high spirits. Somebody remembered the words to a song she'd learned in another life as an innkeeper, and naturally the song had to be taught to her companions immediately. The group climbed back up to the monastery singing off-key about fair maidens and dragons and ill-fated tea parties.

Marching uphill as a somewhat tipsy crutch between two other monks, singing along as best as he could (and muddling the words of the chorus every time), Uldrid hadn't had so much fun in years.

*

As it was customary for the young monks on a pilgrimage to send a letter home every so often, Seth was expected to write.

As it was Seth, there was a great deal of letters: long, rambling affairs detailing every minor aspect of his journey, every person he met along the way. Everyone marveled at how much paper he'd been able to scrounge up for this lengthy correspondence.

It was mildly unusual that the letters were addressed to Uldrid. Traditionally these letters would be addressed to the Elder. Worried that Elder Gorrek would feel slighted by this oversight, Uldrid brought every one of Seth's letters to the Elder's room until Gorrek assured him that it wouldn't be necessary.

"Is that the Saga of Seth?" Fenh asked one morning, walking in on Uldrid finishing breakfast. Several sheets of paper lay scattered by Uldrid's elbow, with one page still in his hand.

"At least he's getting practice spelling," Uldrid mumbled, turning the page over to continue reading. "I didn't know he had this much patience for it."

Fenh sat down beside him, picking a sheet from the small pile. "Seth's always been social. It must be hard for him to be by himself, so far from home."

"He's written a book by now. With recurring characters."

"Really?"

Uldrid nodded. "He's been traveling with two new friends for a few weeks now. They seem like decent people."

Fenh smiled. "They must be, if his chatter hasn't driven them off yet."

"And he's mentioned this other fellow twice, although I don't think he's actually met the man. Something about other travelers running into him. He's been causing trouble."

Fenh leaned to look at Uldrid's eyes. "Are you worried about Seth?"

"I'm not sure. I miss him."

"He'll be back before you know it."

Uldrid nodded and moved on to the next page.

"Do you feel as if you should have gone with him?" Fenh asked after a few moments watching Uldrid.

"I couldn't have; pilgrimage should be done alone."

"That wasn't the question."

Uldrid shook his head. "He's a grown man. He can take care of himself."

"And you don't ever feel like you're missing out?"

Uldrid must have noticed his tone change. He turned to look at him. "On what?"

"You watch everyone leave, for one reason or another, and you've never brought up the idea of your own pilgrimage. I was just wondering."

"It isn't mandatory."

"No, it's a choice. Which you've avoided discussing with any of us for the past twenty-odd years." Fenh was frowning now.

Uldrid glanced down at the table but forced himself to look at Fenh again. "I just haven't really thought about it. I like it here, and I have my own students now. I don't need to go anywhere."

Fenh supposed he could accept that response. He sat back. "I hope you understand, Uldrid, that if anything is ever troubling you we'd want to help."

"Thank you." Uldrid seemed to want to pick up Seth's letter again but he'd obviously finished reading it. He fidgeted for a moment before standing up, pushing in his chair. "I have to go meet my students."

"May I read the letter?"

"Of course," he replied over his shoulder as he left.

He'd started to notice a pattern of late: now that Seth was traveling and Gwen had left and two of his closest friends had gotten married, people seemed to worry more about how Uldrid was faring. He wondered whether he should return to the dining room to tell Fenh there was no need to be so worried about him, but he wasn't sure how he'd approach the subject.

He hesitated in the corridor to think it over.

Did everyone think that he felt doomed in his own skin? Did they know he was doomed? Was it pity?

For a second time, he turned as if to go speak with Fenh, but he realized he couldn't keep his students waiting, especially if he hadn't made up his mind on what to say to Fenh. With a deep breath, he forced those thoughts out of his mind and hastened to meet his students.

*

"Hergen? Will you be busy in the morning?" Uldrid asked one night as he leaned against the doorframe to Hergen's room.

Hergen looked away from his mending with a nearsighted frown. As impressive as he was in stature, Uldrid often thought it strange to see Hergen doing his own mending so faithfully. Hergen's eyes were better suited for it. "That depends. I don't do drills until mid-morning. Why?"

Uldrid hesitated. "Well, you know… my students start very early… and they don't need me to help them to and from the lake but by the time they reach the posts it'll be about dawn…"

"Yes?" Hergen set aside his sewing needle. He was aware of how rarely Uldrid would ask for help.

Uldrid inhaled deeply and tightened his hands into fists. "Could you assist me on the posts tomorrow? With the students, I mean. I can't— Could you? Unless you'd rather be elsewhere, I completely understand."

"Of course I can help, Uldrid, it's no trouble." Then he realized that Uldrid's fists were still clenched. "Is something wrong?"

"No, nothing's wrong. You're sure you can be there early?"

"I'll be waiting by the posts at dawn. No trouble."

"Thank you so much, Hergen. I appreciate it."

Uldrid didn't let Hergen see him limp as he walked away. He'd been struggling with his bad leg for weeks now, ever since the weather had started to grow colder. This would be the first winter he'd spend with students.

He'd been teaching them long enough that they'd all grown accustomed to his face. Most of them paid attention, although Chatty still needed prompting every once in a while; Uldrid let him drift off until it was his turn, and if Chatty couldn't keep up he learned to make up for it himself. It was rather like having a younger version of Seth around during lessons.

Although Uldrid felt he'd finally earned some respect from his students he didn't want them to see how his leg affected him. If he could have his way no one in the monastery would have ever found out, but he knew some of the monks must be aware of his pain by now. Hergen certainly knew Uldrid had ruined his leg through his own stupidity; it wouldn't take Hergen long to notice that whenever the weather grew cold, Uldrid's gait changed.

Even ignoring Uldrid's pride, there was the fact that with his leg causing him so much pain he couldn't keep up with his students for the length of a full lesson. He still put himself through drills every day, practiced on his own, kept his joints as loose as possible, and when it came time to work with the students individually he'd have them working their hardest to match him— until he got halfway through the lesson. By the time he was able to give the last student his full attention he'd be in agony. He typically dealt with this by hitting too hard or standing still to avoid having to move the leg, which would result in some embarrassing collisions.

His students were going to notice sooner or later that their teacher, who couldn't be that much older than themselves, couldn't always fight with his bad leg. On days like this Uldrid felt like he was shriveling up before his time, joints creaking as he withered away, akin to the octogenarian monks who worked in the gardens.

"Uldrid, wait."

Uldrid stood perfectly still. How long had Hergen been following him? Had he been limping too obviously just then?

Hergen caught up with Uldrid. "I won't share with anyone what you choose to tell me now. I know how you get."

Uldrid grunted, trying to act casual.

"Has the leg gotten worse?"

Uldrid stared at the ceiling. Since he couldn't glance to the side without turning his head, he often found himself peering into the rafters to avoid looking directly at a person. "It isn't so bad in warm weather."

"Ah. So you aren't suffering like this every day." Hergen did sound relieved.

"Do you think I'm mad for trying so hard?" Uldrid asked softly.

"You work just as hard as the rest of us. You're just more stubborn about it."

Uldrid exhaled a laugh. "I feel like an old man."

"Don't be silly, you're younger than me. And you can still best me at ground fighting."

Uldrid leaned back as if he could see more of Hergen at once from there. He couldn't remember being able to really pin Hergen. "I can't best you. I just run circles around you until you get bored."

"Your leg might slow you down but it hasn't cost you your skill. Cheer up, eh?"

"I'll try, but it hurts." It felt odd to admit it, even to Hergen. Uldrid hardly felt peculiar around the man who'd used to win sparring matches by sitting on Uldrid's head. "I'm not sure what else I can do about it."

"Have you asked one of the older monks how to handle an old injury?"

Uldrid shook his head. "No, but maybe I should."

"Worth a shot."

"Do you think Husen might have some advice?"

"Why Husen? She isn't that old yet."

"No, but of my teachers I think she was the only one more stubborn than I am."

"Ah, so assuming she suffered an injury like yours at some point she might have handled it in similar bullheaded fashion."

"Something like that, yes…"

"That's not a bad idea, come to think of it."

The next morning was damp and cold— agony for his leg. Uldrid limped his way through the practice fields to meet up with Hergen. They waited together for the students to show up; despite the light rainfall the students hadn't neglected traveling down to the lake to fill their buckets. It was part of the lesson now.

Uldrid waited for them to drench the posts before speaking to them. "This morning we'll be sparring on the posts. I think you've run them enough for the time being. I have brought two staves; these will be the only weapons in use. If I catch anyone with fistfuls of mud they will stay behind to run the posts until lunch. Stones will get you the same."

The youngest boy raised his hand. "I thought we were supposed to use everything at hand in a fight?"

"You're using a staff in a sparring match, Arthur. That school of thought won't be necessary today."

"It's more useful when you're caught in an alehouse fight," Hergen supplied helpfully.

Uldrid turned to stare at him.

Hergen shrugged. "It is."

"Students, I don't want you to ever go into an alehouse with Hergen. Alternating between the two of us, you will each face your opponent while standing on the posts. Arthur, you're first with me."

Halfway through the lesson Uldrid noticed a handful of people watching his students from the nearest hilltop. They had to be visitors, and probably not from the nearby village. Their clothes were too fine.

"Who do you think they are?" Hergen asked when he and Chatty finished their turn together. Climbing down from the posts, Hergen ruffled Chatty's sodden hair. "Better luck next time, you."

Chatty wiped his hair away from his eyes. "That's my father," he stated, sounding surprised.

Uldrid turned to look at the hilltop again. "Oh."

Hergen huffed. "Were we supposed to have a visit today? I don't recall…"

"A noble visit? I think this is a surprise visit," Uldrid said, glancing at Chatty. When he noticed the handful of people coming nearer he suggested Hergen take the next student on the posts. Although he felt nervous Uldrid stepped forward to meet their visitors. Chatty followed close behind.

"I've come to see how my son's progressing," the well-dressed man stated grandly when they were near enough to be heard clearly. "How have you been teaching Warren?"

Uldrid lowered his voice. "Warren?"

Chatty nodded.

"Ah. I thought you were William."

"Nope."

"Sorry about that."

"That's alright; I thought you were Uther for two weeks."

Uldrid stifled a laugh. The nobles were now close enough that the fine mist of rain did very little to obscure Uldrid's unusual features. He'd like to make a good impression. "Good morning to you, my lord. My lady."

The Baron, Warren's father, stared rather unabashedly at Uldrid's face. It was only when Uldrid mentioned the lady that he shook himself from his stunned silence. "Er, this is my eldest daughter and heir, Morenna. Are you my son's instructor?"

"I am, yes. He's been learning very well, even if I do have to fight to keep his attention."

"Yes, well, I'd been hoping you could stamp that out entirely. He is here to learn discipline, after all." Warren's father seemed most comfortable standing at a slight angle from Uldrid, as if facing him head-on was too much at once. Uldrid tried not to notice.

Warren's sister, on the other hand, stared intently, as did the two servants standing behind her.

"We've learned to work around his little lapses, sir. He's quite bright when he puts his mind to it," Uldrid said. "Do you intend to let him continue here for a while?"

"Will you be the one leading all of his lessons?"

Uldrid's face betrayed very little. It was one good thing about having his features. "Until I deem him fit to begin working beneath my superiours, yes."

"He's awfully strict with me, Father," Chatty piped in.

That seemed to help the old man's opinion of Uldrid considerably. "Are you?"

"I did say he's learned well, but I didn't mention how often I've had to reprimand him," Uldrid said, layering it on a bit thick.

Thankfully this was just what Warren's father liked to hear. He peered past Uldrid to glance over his son's negligible frame. "I've heard nothing but praise for your order, you know… er…"

"Uldrid, my lord."

"Yes, Uldrid." The old man paused and narrowed his eyes in a squint. "Is that a local name?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Would you like to watch some of the lessons?"

"No, no, I'm sure my being here will only distract my son further. I came here to speak with your Elder Gorrek on the terms of Warren's stay."

"Have you spoken with Gorrek yet? I could help you find him."

"Would you?"

Uldrid excused himself to ask Hergen to keep up with the sparring matches. Hergen gladly agreed to take over. The students, on the other hand, reacted with horror. Uldrid was tricky enough, but everyone was dreadfully undersized facing Hergen.

"How long have you been here?" the Baron asked carefully, sounding as if Uldrid had already mentioned and he'd failed to recall.

"How long have I been teaching or how long have I been learning?" Uldrid asked in reply, motioning for the Baron to walk with him.

"Are you skilled or not? I didn't send Warren out here to waste time while he waits for his final growth spurt."

Uldrid was glad his face betrayed nothing conventional; the Baron was not mean-spirited, but he would most likely take offense to notice Uldrid's displeasure in his expression. Uldrid had never tolerated being thought incapable. "I've been training since I was half Warren's size."

"So you know what you're doing? I can't trust my boy to anyone, you see."

"That's perfectly reasonable, sir."

"Although Morenna's the one who will succeed me, I cannot afford to let any of my children go without sufficient training. Warren here needed a much… stricter regimen."

"I assumed as much." Uldrid forced himself not to glance at Warren's sister unless she came into his range of vision. She struck him as very different from her younger brother; she'd obviously taken much better to training.

Uldrid led them inside the monastery and found Elder Gorrek within the library. The Baron stayed put to speak with him, thanking Uldrid for his assistance, while Morenna and the servants opted to wander around.

"Would you please keep our guests company, Uldrid?" Gorrek asked before Uldrid could leave, "Show them the grounds while we discuss Warren's stay."

Uldrid reluctantly agreed.

Morenna bore more resemblance to her father than to her brother, although she stared rather intently. Uldrid felt as if he were being evaluated.

The two servants didn't say a single word; their glances at Uldrid were still tinted with horror. He was glad they chose to remain silent while he walked ahead with their mistress.

"You'll have to forgive my father." Morenna had a throaty voice for a young woman, making Uldrid imagine she was older than she appeared. "He can be a bit old-fashioned. He still thinks monks make horrible teachers."

"Why would he think that?"

"Most orders he's familiar with consist of dusty old historians. Yours must be the only one on the continent with such a reputation for violence."

Uldrid tried not to sound as offended as he felt. "We're men and women of peace."

"Would you count the wars of the Third Age an act of peacekeeping?"

"I'm well acquainted with our histories," Uldrid interjected. "Our actions were necessary to protect the villagers and our own children."

He didn't quite like the way she smiled. She acted as if she knew something that she enjoyed not sharing.

They walked a slow circuit around the edge of the monastery gardens. Most of the older monks were outside, pulling weeds and clipping dead leaves; they greeted Uldrid as he walked by.

"Uldrid, was it?"

He turned to look at Morenna. She was tall enough that she stared directly into his eyes when they spoke. "Yes."

"Who gave you the name?"

Uldrid hadn't expected this line of questioning. "I'm assuming my parents did."

"I find that unlikely."

"Traditionally, that's how it works."

"You're sure it wasn't a well-meaning nurse in your orphanage?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I was already named when I came here." He was starting to dislike Morenna. She was smug and she stared rather defiantly. If he weren't her brother's instructor he had the feeling she'd be much less kind. "Does my name offend you?"

She seemed to enjoy his stiff demeanor. She smiled again. "You don't travel very often, do you?" she asked, with the air of already knowing the answer.

"What makes you say that?"

"I think people would hear of it if your face traveled," she replied smoothly.

He took a slow, calming breath. "Why do you ask whether I've traveled?"

But she only kept smiling, looking him over. "Hm."

Uldrid cut short the tour of the grounds and brought Morenna back to the library. The door was still closed; the Baron's meeting with Elder Gorrek had not yet finished.

"It was nice to meet you," Uldrid stated tersely. He caught one of the servants lurching back as he passed.

He already knew about where he must have come from. The older monks, particularly Gorrek, had made no secrets about his childhood. He knew his name was not local, and he'd long since realized that whoever had brought him here had not wanted to keep him. None of this came as a shock anymore. He'd stopped wondering years ago, if he'd ever really wondered at all.

"How did it go? Uldrid?"

Uldrid ignored Hergen, stalked past him to slam his fist into the posts. The wood was dense but worn; his knuckles left a few good marks. Shaking off splinters, Uldrid exhaled.

His students were watching.

"I feel better now," Uldrid assured them. "I'm sorry."

"Nobles, eh?" Hergen asked.

"I don't know what it is. We just don't get along."

*

Everyone noticed when Seth's letters grew scarce. At first it was only common sense: the further he traveled, the greater the distance each letter would have to cover in order to reach the monastery. At some point, however, someone brought up the fact that Seth's letters had petered off rather rapidly even considering his journey. In the space of three very short letters that had been unusually spaced apart, he'd suddenly run out of things to say. And then, after the third uncharacteristically concise note: nothing.

Uldrid began to worry.

Gwen's letters, although nowhere near as long or consistent as Seth's had been previously, still arrived with mundane updates. She urged Uldrid to visit her whenever he eventually decided to leave the monastery. It was nice to know she still thought of the place.

For Seth to stop writing his letters, after he'd been obsessively relaying every minor event, something had to be wrong. Uldrid knew Seth too well to assume the messengers had lapsed into lethargy.

This was, after all, the young man who'd once spent a full week talking about the details in a tapestry hanging in the village tavern. While Uldrid was notorious among his fellows for being a perfectionist, Seth could latch onto details with frightening intensity.

This was also the young man who sulked for absolutely no reason for weeks at a time.

Uldrid could remember finding Seth moping by himself at odd hours throughout their childhood, his mood so bleak he could only mumble in response. Of course he'd made up for it by babbling on endlessly once his mood lifted.

He didn't think Seth couldn't take care of himself, but he couldn't keep from worrying. Who knew what might have happened? What if Seth had fallen into one of his black moods, and he'd let it distract him? What if he had been robbed on the road? When the third week came without a single word from Seth, Uldrid finally gave in. He went to speak with Elder Gorrek.

"As much as I want to let him grow up and learn to fend for himself, I'm getting very worried about him."

The Elder looked away from his stack of merchant correspondence. "About whom?"

"Oh. Seth. We haven't heard from him in three weeks. And I know he's very far away and it would take nearly a week for a letter to get here from wherever he must be by now, but he'd been writing so many letters that we had a letter every other day from him. This is all very unsettling, sir."

"Ah. Well, I'm inclined to agree with you. Although it is something Seth would do…"

"What is?"

"Rapidly losing interest in exchange for something new. Perhaps he's suddenly decided that the letters are too taxing?"

"I thought of that, but his last three letters were too different from the one immediately before. He went from a sixteen-page book to one and a half paragraphs. Something's happened."

"Maybe he's injured his writing hand?"

"He would have mentioned an injury and his handwriting hadn't changed." Uldrid could quote the last three letters word for word: Weather's nice. Met a milliner on his way off the docks. Lost one boot in the river. Love, Seth. "I think I should go find him."

The news seemed to startle Gorrek. "You realize that he's been gone for several weeks, yes? It would be difficult to catch up with him at this point."

"Only if he's still traveling, and he might have stopped."

Gorrek pushed down a smile. "You've just decided to make your pilgrimage."

Uldrid hesitated. He hadn't even thought of it that way, but yes, he finally had. He'd be taking the same traditional route. "Yes, sir."

"When do you wish to leave?"

Ignoring the tremor starting in the pit of his stomach, Uldrid replied. "As soon as possible. Although I don't know what to do with my students."

"We can push them into Husen's drills; tell them they've graduated." Gorrek was certainly grinning now. "And what if you catch up with Seth? If he's well?"

"Then… I'll finish the trip with him."

"That is if you catch up to him."

"…Yes."

Gorrek stood up. "For better or worse, this is an important day for you. I wish you a safe and fulfilling journey, my boy."

"Thank you, Elder."

Uldrid's hands shook while he packed his bag.

Hergen stopped by his room to wish him luck, as did Husen and Fenh. Elim found him outside that evening by the stables. "Choosing your travel companion, eh?"

"Hello, Elim."

Elim followed Uldrid into the stables. "You have a favourite?"

"I'm trying to remember which ones don't panic at the sight of me."

The monastery horses could be easily picked out in a crowd; most of them grew thick head plates. The first thing the children learned about the horses was not to stand too long directly in front of them. While Uldrid had learned the same lesson during his childhood, on occasion his large eyes frightened the horses regardless of how careful he was.

"What about Bean?" Elim suggested after watching Uldrid pace up and down the stables. "It's getting hard to frighten her. We've been letting the young students learn with her."

The horse in question calmly stared Uldrid down when he paused before her. "Hello, Bean. Do you feel up for a long walk?"

She blinked and decided Uldrid wasn't that interesting, after all.

"Elim, you've gone on your pilgrimage, haven't you?" Uldrid asked as he collected a saddle.

"Yes. I was late to the order; I didn't make my pilgrimage until I was thirty-six."

"You were a soldier."

"That's right."

"What made you want to come here?"

Elim offered Bean a handful of sweet grass. "I was tired of sharing barracks with a hundred angry men and women. The Elder offered me the chance to come here, care for a few children, and I liked it more than I thought I would."

"I suppose you weren't nervous about your pilgrimage…" Uldrid mumbled, "Being a soldier."

"I wasn't a soldier then. I was a monk. It was the first time I'd traveled without a rifle, without a sword, and without armour. I was petrified."

Uldrid turned to look at Elim.

Elim shrugged. "I had to place my trust in strangers rather than my own weaponry. That's a hard thing for a soldier to do."

"You're just saying that to cheer me up."

"I am, but it's the truth. Think of it this way; even now, you have more training as a monk than I did when I left for my own pilgrimage. You're much better equipped for the journey. I have the utmost confidence in you."

"Thank you, Elim. That does help…"

"Hey, come here." Elim tugged Uldrid into his arms and pinned him close. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I will."

"Bring a weapon with you."

"Isn't that a bit contradictory?"

Elim pulled Uldrid out of his chest to stare into his eyes. "You're leaving the only home you've known for the first time in order to possibly rescue a friend from danger. I think you're allowed one weapon."

"I meant it seems a bit odd considering the order's teachings."

"Bring a blunt weapon. Carry it as a last resort. You don't know when you'll need it."

Uldrid blinked up at the man who'd cared for him as an infant. "You're trying to tell me I'll have more trouble than most out there," he observed quietly.

Elim, to his surprise, actually seemed offended by the suggestion. "I'm trying to tell you that I'll be somewhat upset if anything should happen to one of the children in my care. I've known you since before you could walk."

"I appreciate it, but I'm not a child anymore."

"I know. That's why it bothers me." Elim clapped a hand on Uldrid's shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

"I will. Thank you."

A few tasks remained before he could call it a night. He spoke with Husen about his students, informing her of their progress. He asked Meg in the hospital wing for advice concerning his leg, for however reluctant he may be to bring up the subject he'd rather avoid causing himself trouble. He read Gwen's last letter and composed a new response, informing her of his sudden departure and advising she continue her correspondence with the monastery regardless; the letter was then tucked into his bag for the morning, when he would pass the village messenger on his way out.

Although such worries would usually keep him awake late, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the mattress.

Uldrid left before dawn, walking with Bean down the mountain trail until the ground leveled out. He did not look back until he'd long passed the village, where only a few people yet stirred. The messenger was one of these early risers; Uldrid handed her the letter for Gwen with the usual greeting, ignoring the pain in his stomach when he realized he would not see this woman for many months. He continued on, allowing himself a single glance homeward. Behind him the monastery lay hidden within the trees of the mountain, the peak obscured by thick morning clouds.

"Come on, then, Bean," Uldrid said as he climbed into the saddle. Bean shifted comfortably beneath him, her little ears flicking about. "It's going to be a long trip."

Like every other student of the monastery, Uldrid had memorized the route and the landmarks of the traditional pilgrimage by the time he was ten. Even the monks who had somehow neglected to make their pilgrimage could speak of the route, the importance of each landmark, the time it took for a proper journey. Uldrid anticipated a six-month absence from his home if he could find Seth before the trip should end. If not, he could still be abroad outside of a year.

Uldrid honoured Elim's request by bringing along his quarterstaff. He held it loosely against his shoulder as he rode, while the earliest part of his journey favoured the well-maintained paths. It was not the season for merchants; he could ride here with his hood down for hours and not have to cover up for other travelers.

Bean was healthy for an old horse; she had no trouble carrying Uldrid, nor did she limp or stumble. She kept a steady pace and did not grunt when he tugged on the reins.

The lands surrounding the monastery mountain were littered with green fields and shallow lakes. The air was damp and cool. Uldrid's leg complained after he sat too long in the saddle; walking beside Bean helped ease his discomfort. Meg had suggested he keep the leg warm and dry as best as he could, but he would not bring out the extra leggings until later.

"Do you remember Cabbage?" Uldrid asked once half a day had passed. They'd only seen two people along the road since the village. "He was always nervous around me."

Bean lowered her head and shook out her mane.

"He could have taken some advice from you; you were always so calm." Cabbage had been unusually high-strung for the monastery stables. Uldrid was not the only student who'd fallen victim to his thick head plate during practice rides. Uldrid carefully patted Bean's head plate.

By nightfall there was still no sign of a nearby village. Uldrid tied Bean's reins to his wrist and sat leaning against her flanks for the night. She let him sleep there without complaint; in the morning he was pleased to see she hadn't tried to leave during the night, but had settled in for a snooze beside him.

Although Uldrid had slept outside before, he had not tried since his injury. Upon waking that morning his leg hurt all the way down to his toes. He had to use Bean as a support to stand upright. "I'll have to come up with something more comfortable," he murmured, ashamed that his leg hurt so badly after the first night.

Bean grunted as if in agreement and started to graze for her breakfast.

Not long after he regained proper use of his leg Uldrid spotted a wagon approaching on the road up ahead. He pulled his hood up and resumed his morning stretches. The wool of his cloak was thick, but when it rested over his eyes he could just see enough through the weave that he was not hindered. He could see, and strangers had less cause to bother him.

Uldrid ate a small breakfast after he'd finished stretching. Bean nudged his shoulder until he let her have a taste. "We have to be careful," he told her. "Our first marker is three days away. If you eat all my bread when I'm not looking I shall be quite cross." But he gave her a second piece anyway.

It started to rain. Uldrid packed his bag, tied it to Bean's saddle and climbed up to sit in front of it, careful to rest his cloak over the bag just in case. Bean ambled back onto the road without a prompt from her rider, who was too busy fussing with his bag at the moment.

Uldrid tried not to think too much about Seth while he rode. Instead of worrying he concentrated on what he knew of the journey ahead, the names of the markers and their significance. He reflected upon the traditional purpose of their pilgrimage, quietly reciting his history lessons to Bean, who was a gracious audience.

Soon, however, he had to pause. He coaxed Bean to stop as he looked around, swiveling in the saddle to take it all in.

"This is the farthest I've ever been from home," he announced. He did not recognize anything now, not the horizon, not the turns in the road.

Bean grunted impatiently.

"Yes, yes. In a moment." Uldrid turned to look at the road behind him. He could no longer find the shape of the mountains that surrounded the monastery.

He was not normally the type for sentiment. He was practical. But the loss of the mere sight of home made him feel like a dried-up leaf adrift on a river, a boat in desperate need of an anchor. If Bean weren't here with him he wouldn't know where to go. Of course he'd know, in theory, but he'd feel lost even as he followed the road.

"I'm glad you're here," he whispered to her as he let her resume her former pace.

Some time closer to noon, although it was difficult to keep track when the sky was so dark, Uldrid could hear a small piping sound he could only suppose was a small bird. The sound was muffled a bit by the rain at first, although it became clearer as time passed. It was no bird he was familiar with.

"You up there! Watch your horse!"

It wasn't a bird; it was a whistle. Uldrid quickly yanked his hood up before he turned around to glance behind. A small caravan of heavy carts had appeared on the road, each led by a weary workhorse. They would not fit on the road unless Bean walked along the side, and so Uldrid pulled her to the edge to allow them passage.

"Are your ears so feeble you can't hear us coming?" shouted the woman with the whistle. She walked alongside the third cart. Slowing down as she approached Uldrid, she squinted up at him. "I've been piping since the stone ridge back there. Are you deaf?"

Now that they were so close Uldrid could hear their wheels croaking amidst the patter of the raindrops. "Forgive me, I thought you were a bird."

She laughed and scratched her nose. "A bird, eh. Where do you ride from? You can't be from our village, else you'd know about the whistle." She stepped closer until she stood an arm's length from Bean's side. Even in the rain there was mud stuck to her cheek, as though she had a habit of wiping her face with her dirty hands.

"You know the Hilraiden order, south of here?" He nodded in the general direction of his mountain range.

"Ah! I should have known, you with that horse. The only people I've seen with plate-headed horses come from your monastery." She seemed familiar enough with the breed to stand just out of Bean's range, in case Bean should decide she didn't like the woman. "Making your whatsis?"

It took Uldrid a moment to understand what she must mean. "My pilgrimage?"

"Yes. That."

"I am, yes."

"You can travel with us a while, if you like. No reason not to share the road."

Uldrid had Bean follow the woman and walk slowly beside her. A few of the cart drivers greeted Uldrid when they neared his horse.

"Don't much like the rain?" the woman with the whistle asked. When Uldrid didn't answer she motioned for her own head. "It's stopped pouring like it was earlier."

Uldrid's stomach twisted. "I'd rather leave my hood up, thank you."

She shrugged. "Just thought I'd say. It's a bit of a large hood; I didn't think it was comfortable. Unless you're wearing it for your religion?"

Uldrid's hood had a lot of extra fabric, specifically to hide his strange eyes and broad mouth from casual glances. "I just like my hood."

"Fair enough. My son likes to wear his grandfather's old cap. Hardly takes it off."

Uldrid watched another cart clatter past him. "What is all this for?"

"Building material, mostly. We got a yearly festival in town; that's what the lumber's for, building a stage for the holiday pantomime. That cart up there's got parts for a new water wheel to replace the thing falling apart on the Town Hall."

"Your Town Hall has a water wheel?"

"Someone decided the old mill could be the new Town Hall, and we've just been going along with it. Or maybe the miller became the mayor."

"It must be cramped, sharing council rooms with an old grinder."

"Oh, they put all the tables and chairs in the old storage rooms. Now instead of holding grain, they hold the mayor's meetings. The wheel doesn't do much grinding anymore but it looks nice when it's running smoothly. Keeps us busy, too."

When they reached a fork in the road Uldrid had to turn left, while his new companions took the other route. The woman stopped walking to grin up at Uldrid. "And here is where we part ways, eh?"

"It certainly looks like it. Thank you for the company, ma'am."

"Oh, aren't you a nice one. On your way back you should stop in and say hello. Ask for Maddy and I'll put you up for the night."

"You're very kind, but wouldn't I take up too much room?"

"Monks never do. What's the name I should wait for?"

"Uldrid, ma'am."

"Now, why does that sound familiar? I think I knew an Uldrid, once. Must have been ages ago, since it doesn't bring any face to mind…" She waved it off. "Well, then, Uldrid. It was a delight. You pay attention to whistles, you hear me?"

Uldrid leaned down to take the hand she offered him. Her grip was a lot stronger than he'd been expecting, but of course she was a carpenter. "Thank you, Maddy, I will."

To his surprise, many of Maddy's fellow carpenters waved goodbye as he rode off; he returned the gesture before Bean hopped into a brisk canter, jostling him to face forward.

The rain followed Uldrid all the way to the first marker. By then Bean was too cranky to carry him through town, so he walked beside her while she huffed and grumbled, irately shaking her wet mane every few steps. Their first marker was an inn; it had served as a rest stop along the pilgrimage for the monks of his order for several generations. Although Uldrid had never left home before now, the innkeeper's daughter greeted him with a warm smile as soon as she recognized the colour of his tunic, the shape of his collar.

She looked to be close to his age. She smiled broadly and often, showing most of her teeth; Uldrid wished he could smile for her, but he knew he would frighten away her mirth. Despite his refusal to remove his hood she took no offense, leading him into the stables and waiting with him while he took care of the disgruntled Bean.

"Is it a long trip from your home?" she asked him, when he was finally satisfied that Bean would be comfortable. She motioned for him to follow her inside. "You must be looking forward to a good night's rest in a warm bed."

"We've been walking for four days, but it hasn't been unpleasant," Uldrid replied. He kept his eyes downcast; although he didn't think she could see him through his hood, he felt rude watching her backside while she climbed the stairs ahead of him. "Although a bed does sound nice."

"I heard monks sleep on stone floors without blankets. Is it true?" She paused suddenly, and Uldrid stopped short to avoid bumping into her. She had turned to glance at him.

"I had a bed. A small one."

"Well, we're not a wealthy inn, but Da makes sure our mattresses are always clean and well-stuffed. Would you like you join us downstairs for supper?"

Uldrid faltered. "I, er. Ah." He could feasibly manage to eat a meal with his hood on but among strangers it would raise questions.

"…Or would you prefer your meal in your room?"

"Would that be asking too much? I wouldn't want to cause you any—"

"No, no trouble. I'll bring it up myself." She smiled again. Uldrid fidgeted. When she resumed climbing the stairs she asked, "Does your order take offense to lamb stew?"

"No, mistress."

"I thought you would refuse meat?"

"I cannot kill the lamb myself. My host may cook as he or she pleases."

"Oh! Well, then you don't mind lamb?"

"I don't, no. It sounds lovely."

Uldrid's room was a lot warmer than he'd been expecting. In the monastery he'd think a room this size would house three students comfortably; he felt almost guilty taking this much space for himself. "Are all your rooms so big?" he asked the innkeeper's daughter.

She hesitated where she knelt by the fireplace. "…Yes, I think so," she replied as she looked around. Another smile. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

Uldrid was almost afraid to walk too far into the room. He lurked near the doorway and stared through his hood at the wide bed. "Please promise me that if you run out of rooms in the night you will offer mine to the next traveler."

"And where would you sleep, if we had to do that? We are not the only place offering rooms in town, good sir. You don't have to worry."

Uldrid stammered something inane, but rather than argue any further he bowed his head and lifted his bag into the chair behind the door. "Thank you, miss, for your hospitality. I am in your debt."

She finished building the fire. Uldrid moved aside to let her pass but she paused on her way out to tap his chin beneath his hood. She smiled when he flinched. "I'll bring up your dinner within the hour. Rest well, weary pilgrim."

Alone, Uldrid was able to remove his cloak. He could hear people talking in the rooms beneath him, on either side of him, and he sat in the middle of the strangely large bed listening idly to the muffled conversation. He'd brought a single book with him, a copy of his monastery's Histories so old its spine had been repaired five times; when the sounds around him grew quieter still he considered taking the old book from his bag for casual study.

He needed distraction. The longer he waited in silence, the more he thought of Seth. He didn't want to worry so much.

He did not hear the innkeeper's daughter until it was too late. He'd finally let himself forget everything outside of his book for a moment, and he hadn't thought she'd open the door before knocking. He hadn't thought to lock the door, either.

"I've brought you some— Ah!"

Her shriek of alarm sounded just as the bowl of stew hit the floor; Uldrid leaped from the bed before the ceramic shards had the chance to stop skittering. Rather than look at her, rather than see her expression of horror, Uldrid stood in the corner with his back to the room.

"I'm so— I didn't— Oh, I'm—" The poor girl was obviously fighting back tears as she tried again and again to apologize. The words would not come.

Uldrid waited stupidly in the corner, wishing he'd thought to keep his cloak at hand, or at least of using the lock.

"You— I'm sorry, I'll— Your stew is. Ah. I'll just be. Yes."

He didn't hear her pick up any part of the broken bowl before she hurried away. He waited until he was certain no one was coming before he turned to face the room again. He pulled his cloak from the chair and hid beneath his hood for the rest of the night; an older woman, likely the girl's mother, came by much later with another bowl of stew for him. She peered warily at him from the open doorway before clicking her tongue at the mess on the floor.

Uldrid ventured downstairs the next morning to retrieve a bucket of water from the courtyard, wrapped in his cloak as he did. He spotted the innkeeper's daughter beating a hasty retreat as he stepped through the main room of the inn and he tried not to attract her family's attention. Having got his water he returned to his room to quickly wash up.

"Breakfast," the older woman announced heavily, at Uldrid's door again while he hovered naked to the waist over his bucket. Gladly she didn't care to wait for her guest to turn around or greet her; she set the bowl on the chair and left just as swiftly as she'd arrived.

He finished his washing up as quickly as possible before eating. The porridge was thick with milk and hot enough for a dollop of butter to have already melted on top. Despite his embarrassment Uldrid enjoyed his breakfast.

Now packed and fully prepared to leave, Uldrid went downstairs one last time. He'd brought the bowl with him and left it in the kitchen, where the innkeeper handed him a small parcel of supplies. "Travel safely, monk," said the innkeeper.

"I am truly grateful for all your help," Uldrid replied through his hood, returning the old man's bow. "And I apologize for any trouble I might have caused you last night."

Bean seemed delighted to see him again, which felt odd given his mood. He let her nibble excitedly at his bag. "I know you must have enjoyed their feed, but we have to leave now."

He hesitated in buckling her saddle when he thought he heard someone behind him. He turned to see the innkeeper's daughter by the door. "Oh. Hello. …I'm sorry for startling you last night."

She shook her head. "I'm the one who should apologize. I did not expect to see—" She fell silent, frowning at the ground between them, before she continued. "You were my guest and I treated you horribly. I hope you can forgive me."

"It's done. Worse things have happened."

She nodded, but she didn't seem quite ready to lift her gaze just yet. "I had to convince my mother that you hadn't done anything to hurt me. I feel terrible that I've given her such a bad idea of you."

Uldrid led Bean outside; the girl moved aside to let him pass before following him out.

She raised her voice nervously. "Before you leave—"

Uldrid paused before climbing onto the saddle.

"I do not mean to offend you, sir, but before you leave— Could you show me? I— I want to look, and not be frightened." She raised her eyes from the ground then, awaiting his response.

Uldrid considered riding away without obliging her, but she was trying so hard to make amends that he couldn't bring himself to such coarse action. Bracing for her reaction, he drew back his hood and forced himself not to look away.

She was doing the same. The sight of his face at first was clearly a shock, even when she was prepared for it, but this time she did not cry out.

Uldrid waited until he couldn't keep from blinking a moment longer. He blinked once, then ducked beneath his hood again. "Is it still too much to bear?" he asked carefully.

"No… Only strange." Finally, she was able to force a smile, although it was nowhere near as bright as the ones she'd given him the day before.

Uldrid nodded and mounted his horse. "Many thanks." Without further hesitation he urged Bean to run away from the inn as fast as her old legs would take them.