COMMAND THE TIDES - Wren Handman Page 0,35

had been nothing short of pathetic. But his restrained solemnity during moments of crisis proved he knew how to do more than play at war.

And then there was Ryan. Ryan was a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, sheathed in hard metal. His eyes spoke of cold places, and she had yet to see him smile. Smile, Ashua’s sake, she had yet to even hear him speak. She wondered if he was mute, and found herself glancing unconsciously over her shoulder. She didn’t expect to see anything, but there he was, his piercing eyes on hers as if he had felt her thinking about him. His eyes were light brown, almost hazel, with glints of green in their depths—an innocuous sort of color, one that might be found on any man in the marketplace, but despite the color his eyes were cold. They were eyes that said “I will do anything,” and she believed them.

She turned away guiltily, as if she had been caught in some questionable act, and caught David smiling at her. She wondered if he, too, could read her thoughts. Perhaps she was so tired that they could simply read them on her face.

“The weather has turned quite fair, don’t you think?” she said, for no reason other than to have something to say.

“Yes, it has. We’re lucky. Spring is showing its face early this year.”

“Last year at this time there was still snow on the ground,” Taya agreed. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation, but the silence had been gnawing on her, and what else was there to talk about? In a crowd where anyone could overhear she couldn’t very well discuss anything that mattered, anything that she might want to ask. So…the weather.

“I forgot it snows here! Strange to think that our countries are so close, and yet in Sephria we never get snow. Well, except for the mountains, of course.” As David spoke he glanced toward Ryan, but he had disappeared into the crowd again.

“If that seems strange, imagine what it would have been like to have lived before the Great Collapse! To have a country so large that there was snow year round in some parts, and in others never a flake.” Three hundred years ago, Sephria, Miranov, Sanitos, and Marabour had all been one great nation, an empire that spanned the whole continent of Midvalen. Signs of it were everywhere—the clothing they wore was still very similar, and trade relations were good between all but Marabour, who had closed her doors to her more civilized neighbors. And Sanitos, which had once been the mother of all four great nations, had turned to religious zealotry and now produced nothing but philosophers and silk. Some people claimed there were other nations, beyond the veil of mist that encircled the continent, but most agreed Midvalen was the world.

“I would have liked to have seen such a time, when each piece of the whole could work together for the greater good. It would have been a magical thing to be a part of.”

“If it had been so wonderful, I doubt there would have been civil war,” Taya countered with a smile, and David laughed ruefully.

“You have me there, ma’am. I think you must be right.”

“You know that I’m younger than you are, David. Calling me ma’am just makes me feel silly.”

“Taya it is,” he replied with a smile, and inclined his head gently.

Such a gentleman. She wondered if he would be offended if she asked him where he got his manners. She thought he might not, but wasn’t sure enough to risk offending him. She would have few enough allies in this strange journey—better to keep on good terms with her newfound companions. She knew Darren would be out of the picture for some time yet, recovering from his wounds, and she imagined the road would be very lonely. If she was even going…Who knew what their plans for her might be.

“David? Do you…” She hesitated, remembering her earliest decision not to speak of important matters. Who knew who might be listening, and even though her future gnawed on her at present, it was best to wait until they arrived…wherever it was they were going. “Do you have a handkerchief?” she finished lamely, and he raised an eyebrow slightly.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“No matter,” she murmured, looking down at her feet. Ashua, he must think I’m daft.

She was startled from her self-pity by the sudden appearance of a handkerchief in front of her