The rain had kept away all the wealthy Guildmasters and the three Sires that lived within riding distance, however. Perhaps that was the problem. They'd made no progress towards finding a wintering-over spot, and she sensed that made Talaysen nervous. At the next several large Faires, he had told her soberly, they could expect to encounter Guild musicians, Journeymen looking for permanent places for themselves. And they could encounter toughs hired by the Guild, either to "teach them a lesson" or to keep them from taking hire with one of the Sires for the winter.
One thing was certain, and only one; she was just as out-of-sorts as he was, but her mood had nothing to do with the weather or the state of their combined purse. She knew precisely why she was restless and unhappy. Talaysen. If this was love, it was damned uncomfortable. It wasn't lust, or rather, it wasn't lust alone-she was quite familiar with the way that felt.
The problem was, Talaysen didn't seem inclined to do anything to relieve her problem, despite all the hints she'd thrown out. And she'd thrown plenty, too. The only thing she hadn't tried was to strip stark naked and creep into his bedroll after he fell asleep.
Drat the man, anyway! Was he made of marble?
She trudged along behind him, watching his back from under her dripping hat-brim. Why didn't he respond to her?
It must be me, she finally decided, her mood of frustration turning to one of depression, as the rain cooled her temper and she started thinking of all the logical reasons why he hadn't been responding. Obviously, he could have anyone he wanted. Gwyna, for instance. And she's not like me; she's adorable. Me, I'm too tall, too bony, and I can still pass for a boy any time I choose. He just doesn't have any interest in me at all, and I guess I can't blame him. She sighed. The clouds chose that moment to double the amount of rain they were dropping on the two Bards' heads, so that they were walking in their own road-sized waterfall.
She tallied up her numerous defects, and compared herself with the flower of the Free Bard feminine contingent, and came to the even more depressing conclusion that she not only wasn't in the running, she wasn't even in the race when it came to attracting her Master in any way other than intellectually. And even then-the Free Bards were anything but stupid. Any of the bright lovelies wearing the brotherhood's ribbons could match witticisms with Talaysen and hold her own.
I don't have a prayer. I might as well give up.
Depression turned to despondency; fueled by the miserable weather, she sank deep inside herself and took refuge in composing the lyrics to songs of unrequited love, each one worse and more trite than the one before it. Brother Pell would have had a fit.
She stayed uncharacteristically silent all morning; when they stopped for a brief, soggy lunch, she couldn't even raise her spirits enough to respond when he finally did venture a comment or two. He must have sensed that it would be better to leave her alone, for that was what he did, addressing her only when it was necessary to actually tell her something, and otherwise leaving her to her own version of brooding.
On the the fifteenth repeat of rhyming "death" with "breath," she noticed that Talaysen had slowed, and was looking about for something.
"What's the matter?" she asked dully.
"We're going to have to stop somewhere for the night," he said, the worry evident in his voice, although she couldn't see his expression under his dripping, drooping hat brim. "I'm trying to find some place with at least a little shelter-however small that may be."
"Oh." She took herself mentally by the scruff of the neck and shook herself. Being really useful, Rune. Why don't you at least try to contribute something to this effort, hmm? "What did you have in mind?" she asked.
He shrugged-at least, that was what she guessed the movement under his rain-cape and pack meant. "I'd like a cave, but that's asking for a bit much around here."
She had to agree with him there. This area was sandy and hilly, rather than rocky and hilly. Not a good area for caves-and if they found one, say, under the roots of a tree, it would probably already have a tenant. She was not interested in debating occupancy with bears, badgers or skunks.
"Let's just keep walking," she said, finally. "If we don't find anything by the time the light starts to fade, maybe we can make a lean-to against a fallen tree, or something. . . ."
"Good enough," he replied, sounding just as depressed as she was. "You watch the right-hand side of the track, I'll watch the left."
They trudged on through the downpour without coming to anything that had any promise for long enough that Rune was just about ready to suggest that they not stop, that they continue on through the night. But it would be easy to get off the track in weather like this, and once tangled in the underbrush, they might not be able to find their way back to the road until daylight. If there was anything worse than spending a night huddled inside a drippy lean-to wrapped in a rain-cape, it was spending it caught in a wild plum thicket while the rain beat down on you unhindered even by leaves.
Meanwhile, her thoughts ran on in the same depressing circle. Talaysen was tired of her; that was what it was. He was tired of his promise to teach her, tired of her company, and he didn't know how to tell her. He wanted to be rid of her. Not that she blamed him; it would be much easier for him to find that wintering-over place with only himself to worry about. And if that failed, it would be very much harder for him to make the winter circuit with an inexperienced girl in tow.
He must be bored with her by now, too. She wasn't very entertaining, she wasn't city-bred, she didn't know anything about the Courts that she hadn't picked up from Tonno-and that was precious little.
And he must be disgusted with her as well. The way she'd been shamelessly throwing herself at him-he was used to ladies, not tavern-wenches. Ill-mannered and coarse, a country peasant despite her learning. Too ugly even to think about, too.
She felt a lump of self-pity rising in her throat and didn't even try to swallow it down. Too ugly, too tall, too stupid-the litany ran around and around in her thoughts, and made the lump expand until it filled her entire throat and made it hard to swallow. It overflowed into her eyes, and tears joined the rain that was leaking through her hat and running down her face. Her eyes blurred, and she rubbed the back of her cold hand across them. They blurred so much, in fact, that she almost missed the little path and half-ruined gateposts leading away from the road.
Almost.