9. Time

Alanna cursed as a drop of rain slid off the brim of her hat and trickled down her back, sending shivers up her spine. Scowling, she glared at the rain clouds above them as if she wished to curse them into oblivion, her concentration strong enough that Baird, who was riding near to her, began to wonder if she was actually able to control the weather with her mind. After all she had done, it really didn't seem that farfetched.

She let out a fresh string of curses as the road wound out of the small grove which had provided scant cover for most of the morning into an exposed valley. As she glanced longingly at the trees along the side of the road, waging an internal debate over the relative merits of being muddy or drenched, she saw a small shadow flicker across her vision.

An enemy scout this far south? She was about to raise the alarm when she noticed the direction of Neal's gaze; he had seen it to then, and was alerting Kel. She knew her ex-squire well enough to realize he would never willingly let his friend ride alone into a dangerous or unknown situation, but it was still puzzling.

Straining to see through the driving rain, she could just make out two figures standing together in the undergrowth, Kel holding her cloak out to shelter the child- it had to be a young child, but in the middle of an army?- from the damp.

"Her newest charge." A voice she would recognize anywhere range out behind her, the most obnoxious, infuriating mix of courtier's drawl and scholar's lecture.

She had missed her sarcastic squire and his ill-timed, irreverent remarks over the last few months, but no threat of torture or death would get her to admit it. Still, she found herself riding near him more often than not, as the days spent listening to the rambling commentary he provided, seemingly for his own amusement entirely, always seemed to pass the fastest.

Glancing back at Kel, Alanna realized she was now riding with the boy wrapped under her cloak. He must have covered her in mud, but she didn't even seem to notice.

Neal was off on one of his rants again; she should have known better than to let him get started.

"And she'll clothe him and feed him and take him in like he was Jump, or a sparrow, but what is she going to do when we get to camp, the Stump'll murder her for it, and the conservatives will be all over her, saying he's her bastard son or her young lover or all manner of things, and she'll just put on her mask and ignore it like she always does but one would think she would try not to encourage it at least, the rumors about her and the entire Third Company of the Own are just starting to die down, that girl thinks she can save the world and now there's going to be…"

"She'll make a great mother some day." Neal spluttered, turned red, and made a strange squawking sound before turning to glare in amazement at his former knight-mistress, his monologue effectively interrupted.

Alanna had always found the inability of men to think of her simultaneously as a warrior and a woman intriguing; even the best ones, those who felt that women could fight alongside men as equals, often began to look at her as so much as an equal that they forgot she was different in the first place. It seemed that Kel experienced the same problem; Neal was clearly startled by the idea of Kel as a mother.

They rode in a rare contemplative silence for a few moments before Neal turned to meet her violet eyes and said softly, "Yes, she will."

He kicked Mage Whisper into a trot, riding ahead to join Kel and Roald.

Duke Baird moved forward to take Neal's place at her side, the pensive expression he wore a mirror to that of his son. When Baird turned to her and asked softly, "Isn't it strange to realize that they've gone and grown up when you weren't looking?", Alanna's thoughts drifted back to her own twins at the Swoop.

The war loomed before her, with no end in sight, but she knew that nothing could last forever. She would take some time off when this was over, get to know her children at last before it was too late and they were heading off to war themselves.

Maybe it was already too late. Alan was a page now, and she could feel Aly slipping further away from her every time they spoke.

Turning back to face the weary chief healer, who seemed to have all the cares of the world written in his tired eyes, she simply nodded in agreement. Where had the time gone?