A Road That Took the Day

Tam's wagon still smelled of apples, leather and whatever animal had last objected to travelling in it.

“No hen?” Ada asked.

“Not after what I heard she's been saying about me.”

Mara climbed up beside Ysra. Hobb arranged himself among the baggage with the expertise of a man who believed a comfortable seat was a public resource if he reached it first. Ada took the rear place, where she could see the city receding without having to keep turning around.

Cal came through the gate carrying bread wrapped in cloth.

“You forgot breakfast,” he said.

“We ate.”

“Then I've made a needless journey.”

Ada climbed down to take it. He had gone to Darro's. The loaf was warm through the wrapping.

Neither quite knew how to perform a farewell in front of Tam, Mara, Ysra and Hobb, all of whom were pretending to find different parts of the wagon absorbing.

“When will you go north?” she asked.

“After Deren's escort is confirmed. Then a week with my father, perhaps two. I haven't promised the length.”

“And after that?”

“The carriers may have work checking the supply agreements. Paid work, if Jessa is willing to believe I can do something besides write questions.”

“She'll test that belief.”

“I expect she will.”

He looked towards the road.

“I'll write. Not only when something important happens.”

“I'd like that.”

“I'd like to visit.”

“Ask my mother how much warning she needs.”

From the wagon, Mara said, “More than the last government gave us.”

Cal laughed, and the farewell became possible.

Ada kissed him beside the muddy wheel. His hand rested at the back of her coat. She wanted to stay, and she wanted to go home, and for once the two desires did not have to prove which was more real.

When she climbed back up, Tam offered no comment. She waited until Cal had stepped clear, shook the reins and began the long ordinary approach out of Orison.

The journey took the day.

There were shortened stretches still, each operating under a current agreement. At one posting yard, the clerk had pinned the duration beside the route sign. Hobb made Tam stop long enough for him to read it.

“You'll make us late,” Tam said.

“I helped get that notice there. I intend to enjoy it.”

He read the whole thing, including the complaint address. Then he bought an onion pastry and declared the stop worthwhile on independent grounds.

Beyond the city, the land widened. Fields lay dark where the last crop had been taken. Smoke rose from low houses. A woman and two boys were repairing a fence whose posts had leaned farther each season until refusal became collapse.

Ada watched the actual ground beneath the routes she had spent weeks describing. The map had not grown less important. It had become less entitled to distract her from the fence, the muddy gate, the time it took an older woman to lift a bucket from a well.

At midday they stopped beside a stream. Mara spread the bread and cheese on a cloth. Ysra walked a little to loosen her knees. Hobb argued with Tam about a bridge repaired in a year neither could agree on.

Ada went to the water and tried to write a description of the crossing with her left hand. After three awkward lines she put the notebook away. Not every stream required her account. Some could simply be crossed, with no more than a short stop on a stone if a lace needed tightening.

Ysra came and sat beside her.

“You needn't practise every time you stop.”

“I know.”

“Knowing is often delayed in reaching the hands.”

Ada smiled.

“Will you teach again?” she asked.

“If someone wishes to learn from what I know.”

“I do.”

Her aunt looked at the water.

“You know things I didn't teach.”

“Then we'll have something to exchange.”

Ysra nodded slowly. Her hands lay open on her knees, damaged and still hers.

The afternoon road passed through Dunmere. A smith had put a notice outside offering repairs to carts delayed by the recent route changes. Someone had added beneath it that repairs caused by old route changes were equally welcome. Ada suspected the distinction would appear in no national summary.

They reached the edge of Sable Fen at dusk.

There was the low milestone. There were the familiar trees. The church approach turned away across ground that no longer carried the governor's hurried grain convoy on top of its own distance.

Hobb went quiet as they passed it.

Mara touched his sleeve. He nodded once and looked towards the village lights.

Tam stopped outside Ada's house. Before anyone called, the door opened and Perrin appeared with a length of wicker in one hand.

“You've taken ages,” he said.

Ada climbed down and caught him so hard that he complained into her shoulder.

For a moment there was only her brother's solid, living weight. Then Jon was there too, and Mara was reaching for Ysra's bag, and Tam was explaining that someone needed to pay her before the family reunion consumed her entire evening.

Ada laughed against Perrin's hair.

The road had taken the day. It had brought them home once.