"He's boasting to himself," she grumbled. "I can hear him from here."
"You've no stomach for listening?"
"I'd rather listen to you blather on about pigs and magic."
He paused and looked at her quite seriously for a moment, then smiled and nodded for her to come with him. They walked the horses for another half an hour, then tended them and their gear. It wasn't nearly delay enough, but it was something.
Once the horses were seen to, she sat down with Miach by the fire.
Adhémar was full of conversation and didn't seem to notice that both she and Miach were not. Morgan let his ramblings evaporate into the night air. It was actually more soothing than annoying, but then again, she wasn't paying any heed to what he was saying.
Until he began again to speak of magic.
"You know," Adhémar said, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes, "a little magic can be quite a useful thing for a swordsman. "
"Can it indeed?" she asked with a yawn. "I would prefer to rely on my skill. "
"But skill can be augmented."
"Aye, by more time in the lists," Morgan said pointedly. "Magic is an unmanly pursuit."
"But?"
"Adhémar, enough," Miach said wearily. "Enough. We have heard enough of magic, and swordplay, and tales of your great prowess.Enough."
Morgan agreed heartily. Adhémar, not unsurprisingly, did not. He rose and started to fling himself toward Miach, but suddenly he changed his mind. She watched as he stood there, in a towering rage, seemingly unable to make himself leap over the fire and beat his brother senseless as he apparently very much wanted to do.
"Well," Morgan said, surprised, "I'm impressed. Most men don't have that much control over their tempers."
"I daresay Adhémar agrees," Miach said, looking up at his brother tranquilly. "Isn't that so, brother?"
Adhémar took several deep breaths, then took a step backward. He shook himself, as if he had shaken off restraining arms. He shot Miach a look that made Morgan flinch and she was not of unstern mettle. "You'll regret that."
But then he turned to Morgan and put on a pleasant smile. "I do have control over my temper," he agreed smoothly. "A trait many would admire."
"I agree," she said, but her first instinct was to draw her sword and sit closer to Miach. It was ridiculous, of course, for the man was full grown. He could look after himself. Besides, this was his brother. Just the same, Morgan thought that perhaps a bit of distraction might be the thing at the moment.
"What were we discussing?" she asked.
"Spells," he said promptly. "And the need for them in a warrior's life."
Morgan frowned. "I do not agree."
"The king has magic," Adhémar said.
"I would like to believe he doesn't use it very often," Morgan said.
"And if your king asked you to learn a spell or two?" Adhémar asked archly.
"Morgan would tell him to go to hell," Miach said shortly. "Adhémar, shut up and let us have a bit of peace. It has been a very long day and you are only lengthening it. Why don't you go have a watch and let us have some quiet?"
Adhémar glared at him. "How dare?"
"Go!" Miach bellowed.
Adhémar rose with a curse, cuffed his brother so hard on the way by that the sound ricocheted in the stillness of the air, and stomped off into the darkness. Morgan looked at Miach, aghast.
"You allowed that?"
