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“Starts straight off.”
“Of course it does,” Breen muttered.
“We’ll see you straight off then. Come on, my boys, your supper’s waiting.”
They followed her as she walked to the stables, as a line of cows followed Harken as he walked to the barn and the milking parlor.
“You could stay, give Harken a hand. I’m fine walking back alone.”
“I did the morning milking, and swallowed down some of Morena’s lumpy porridge after. Harken seemed fine, with the porridge, I mean.” Obviously baffled, Keegan shrugged. “That’s love for you.”
“I wanted to ask if I could, or should, barter with Harken for Boy. Would he be willing to trade for him, and then for his—Boy’s—stabling and feed and so on?”
“Is he the horse you want, for having, not just for training?”
“We’re used to each other. We like each other and feel easy with each other. I can keep it at borrowing if Harken doesn’t want to trade, but—”
“He chose him for you because you fit, so he’d make a gift of him to you.”
“I know he would, but I’d like to give something in return. I just don’t know what it should be.”
“He could use a new plow harness, and that’s the truth of it. He’s patched and repaired the old one more times than you could count.”
“Where would I get one?”
They crossed back into Ireland.
“We’ll make the visit to the elf known for making such things as part of tomorrow’s training.”
“Okay, and what about the feed and the rest?”
“He won’t take for that. You’re a sister to Morena, so one to him. He’ll take the harness and use it, and see it as thoughtful more than bartering. Spring planting’s coming.”
“Will you plant?”
“What I can, when I can. I’ll need to spend some time at the Capital, and soon. But unless there’s urgency, it can be a day or two here and there. You might come with me for one of those. It’s good for those there to see you.”
“All right.”
“I know you have your own trip, so before that, I think. A day or two.”
“Will you have a Judgment?”
“For small things. We’ve found no others, as yet, who spy for Odran. I hope to the gods there are no more to find.” Face grim, he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I’ve banished more this year than in all the years before I sat in the chair. I still don’t have the taste for it.”
“I’d be sorry if you did.”
When they came out of the woods, the door of the cottage opened. Bollocks raced out to greet her as if they’d been separated for months rather than hours.
“There’s my sweet boy. Were you a good boy for Marco?”
“Good as they get,” Marco called. “I got the taters in the oven, and I’m grilling asparagus from Seamus along with this steak when Brian gets here. Let’s— Jesus and all the rest, what is that smell?”
“It’s goat, or what comes out of them, and I’m going straight up and taking a shower.”
“I hear that. But first, I need those two chapters.”
“What?”
