“Still, at length both his body and his wits cooled, and he went off to find some useful task to occupy himself, preferably away from his comrades. He found it in taking a saddle with a broken tree uptown to the harnessmaker’s to trade in for a replacement, and retrieving some other mended gear there, which filled the time till dinner and the arrival of the anxious Utau and the rest of his swamp-slimed patrol. Mari’s arguments were not, any of them, wrong, exactly. Or at all, Dag admitted glumly... to himself. Ashamed, he dutifully set his mind to the upholding of a self-restraint that had once been more routine than breathing… which had somehow grown as heavy as a stone cairn upon his chest. Dead men don’t need air, eh? At dinner that night he behaved toward Fawn with meticulous courtesy, no more. Her eyes watched him curiously, wary. But there were enough other patrollers at the table for her to pelt with her questions, tonight mostly about how patrol patterns were arranged and walked, that his silence passed unremarked.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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