to groan. Was there ever a right thing to say to this girl? He was beginning to believe there wasn’t. Dari felt farther away than ever, and he knew he was the cause of it, though how to mend the situation eluded him completely. If Zed didn’t come back soon, Aron realized he might start talking to Iko, or even Raaf, just to maintain his sanity.
Aron had been counting days as Lord Baldric stalled Eldin Falconer in his desire to leave with Stone’s orphans, fifty-seven so far, and Zed had been gone two weeks longer than that. As if summoned by his thoughts, Thorn’s High Master stalked past Dari’s window, heading toward the Shrine of the Mother.
The sight of him made Aron think too much about this morning’s dream, and he shivered.
“Making a list of candidates was a plausible reason for delay,” Dari said, following Falconer with her eyes as he passed. “This latest bunch of excuses from Lord Baldric—the late-season chill, and the whole bit about waiting for messengers to return with release letters from village elders and possible long-lost relatives—it’s a stretch.”
Aron nodded. He had watched as the Thorn Brother observed training sessions, and he had seen the man attempting to interview any unattached child he passed. Everyone seemed kind and tolerant in their dealings with Falconer, but he rarely gained more than a few minutes of polite interchange with anyone.
At best, he had gained permission to leave with four children, and three of those were incorrigibles who would likely steal his purse and robes and be back at Triune by dawn the day following his departure.
“Galvin Herder has petitioned Lord Baldric to allow him to go to his final trial. Again. Did you know?”
Aron tried to hold back his frown, but could not. He did know, but only because he had overheard the argument while hiding around a corner, waiting to ambush Galvin in the Den and get a head start on the night’s inevitable battles. The sight of Galvin so desperately making his demands to Lord Baldric had averted the confrontation, and added to Aron’s troubled thoughts and no doubt his more active dreams.
“Perhaps the Lord Provost will allow him satisfaction,” Aron murmured, trying to be gracious even though he knew Dari held Galvin in no greater esteem than he did.
Dari relaxed a fraction. “You have the box today, do you not?”
Aron averted his gaze from Falconer before he had to look fully at the Shrine of the Mother. More often than not, especially after such an active night of dreaming, the sight of those stone pillars made him dizzy and weak. “Yes. I have the box.”
“I don’t know how you stand that, Aron.” Dari faced him, and Aron was pleased by the concern radiating from her beautiful face. “I don’t know how any of you bear some of what Stone puts you through.”
“It’s all necessary.” Aron gave the answer quickly and easily, because he believed it as deeply as he could believe anything. “Who knows when I might have to wait in cramped quarters, maybe for hours, or even days, to stop some rapist or child-killer?”
For a few seconds, at least, Dari seemed totally her old self, accessible to him in most ways, and not so burdened with her own worries. “Do you think you’ll always be so committed to Stone’s aims?”
“Yes.” That answer came easily too, yet Aron fidgeted as he gave it, sensing another potential girl-problem in the making. “But—but I do have room in my heart for other commitments. Few men and women are willing to share lives like ours, but we’re allowed to have relationships. With Guild permission, we can take promise-mates.”
Blath coughed, and Dari’s eyes widened before she turned back to her study of the castle byway visible outside her window.
Was she smiling or frowning?
Had he stepped correctly, or made some grievous error?
Aron wondered if he should present himself at the infirmary near the farming quarters and petition to have his tongue removed, but he decided to take one more risk before excusing himself. “I would be happy to escort you to the main kitchens tonight, or tomorrow night if I don’t get out of the box in time. If, I mean, you, if that is, you would like to have dinner with me.”
Blath gave another cough, but Dari laughed. This time when she looked at him, her eyes seemed a little brighter, and her gaze was more direct. “You’re persistent, Aron Weylyn.”
Aron almost thanked her, then wondered if he