"I can.Youcan be on your way now."
Miach lifted his eyebrows briefly, then nodded. "As you will, then." Not her father and not likely to divulge any details. Then how did Adhémar know her? Were all these souls traveling in a group? Miach shrugged to himself. No doubt he would have all the details, and more, from Adhémar sooner than he cared for.
He nodded politely to the older man then made his way out of the inn and back to the clearing. Adhémar was sitting on a fallen log near the fire, staring morosely into the flames. He looked up as Miach approached.
"It took you long enough," Adhémar groused.
"To settle Morgan, or to find you?"
"To find me," Adhémar said crossly.
"That was hardly my fault. Why did you wait so long to use your magic so I could? At least you have it back?"
"I don't have it back!"
Miach went to squat down next to the fire. He was suddenly and quite unaccountably cold. "You don't? But I saw your sword?"
"What are you babbling about?" Adhémar demanded. "There was a battle today, aye, and I'm a little foggy on it, particularly the end, though I'm sure I fought well. I'm also sure I used my sword, but it most certainly did not display anything magical except my skill in killing." He scowled. "All this does not explain why it took you so long to find me."
Miach wanted to stop the conversation until he'd had a chance to digest that. Adhémar had not called to the magic of his sword?
But Miach was certain he'd seen the magelight.
"Miach!"
Miach blinked. "Sorry. I'm not quite myself yet. I've been flying about looking for you for almost a month. And then today?"
"Today we are fortunate you have such a vivid imagination and a great deal of luck," Adhémar said, "else you would still be flying about looking for me. "
"Of course," Miach said, but in truth he was completely baffled. Hehadseen the Sword of Neroche. It was unmistakable. It wasn't possible that Adhémar had called to the sword's power and not realized it. But if not him, then who?
Questions for later, he decided quickly. His brother was scowling fiercely and babbling just as furiously. Miach suspected he wasn't missing much, but perhaps he should listen just the same. He would think on the mystery of the Sword of Neroche later, when he had the peace for it.
"She's rumored to be a good swordsman but I wouldn't know because those companions of hers coddle her so I've never been able to lift a finger against her."
Miach blinked. "Who?"
"Morgan!"
"She's a good swordsman?"
Adhémar glared at him. "Are you listening to me?"
"Intently."
"It doesn't sound like you are," Adhémar grumbled.
"Too much flying," Miach said promptly. "So, she's a shieldmaiden and you don't care for her. Why do you continue to travel with her, if she irritates you so? "
"Did you hear nothing I said? The wench felled me with subterfuge, stole most of my gold and half my belongings, and won't give them back! I can't leave until I've had a chance to at least cross swords with her and intimidate her into returning my socks."
Miach would be the last not to offer credit for embellishment where it was due, but if any of Adhémar's claim was actually true, Miach could scarce wait to see Morgan the Fair and Deadly when she was awake.
"I'd command her to admit to her crimes," Adhémar continued grimly, "but I don't dare. I wouldn't want to ruin my disguise as a common traveling man."
Miach yawned to cover his smile. "This hasn't been easy for you, has it?"
Adhémar snorted. "You have no idea. The only justice on the entire journey was that the wench puked almost the entire voyage from Bere, save those several hours when your herbs rendered her blissfully unconscious, but she complained about the magic on them once she was unfortunately lucid enough to speak." Adhémar shook his head. "Cold comfort, indeed."
