It was something of a surprise that he lived at all. If he had not, many things would have been different. Certainly things would have been less complicated. It was broad daylight when I found him, but the day was bitterly cold, a stiff wind keeping the hilltops mostly free from the snow which formed deep drifts in every small depression. I was on my way to Stonehaven, the capital, but in no hurry. I had money in my pack, and I'm happy enough alone. I crossed his tracks some five leagues outside town, and already they were uneven, as if he were stumbling. I don't know why I followed them, but he should be glad enough I did, for I came upon him in less than a league, lying facedown in the snow.

I put my toe in his ribs before I knelt down and turned him over, but he did not react. He was young, and something seemed familiar about him even then. He was not hurt, at least not in a way I could see, but he was not dressed for the weather. A thin shirt of fine cloth, wellmade breeches, expensive boots, but nothing else. No weapon, no cloak, no horse, no hat, nothing. There was a bag of coins inside his shirt, but I did not investigate that more closely. His breathing was very slow, and his hands icy. It was utter foolishness to be out in such weather so unprepared. I strode to the top of the hill and looked for pursuers; there are few reasons one would be so desperate to get away. There was a group of horsemen moving away to the south, but I could not identify them. In any case, they would not cross his path going that direction, at least not the path I assumed he must have taken from the capital. Then we had a little time. I took off my cloak and wrapped him in it before hoisting him over my shoulder. The forest was not too far away, and it would provide better shelter and firewood. The snow stung my bare arms, and I was shivering badly myself when we finally made it into the trees. We were fortunate that this area was quite rocky. I built a fire in front of a rock face that would reflect the heat back upon us. I put him close by the fire and let myself warm a little before opening my pack and pulling out some carrots and a little dried meat. Tubers and kiberries were plentiful in this area even in winter, so I gathered a bit extra before settling down in front of the fire to make a late lunch.

The warmth must have awakened him, because I felt his eyes on me not long before the soup was ready. Carrots, kiberries, venison, and roots made a delicious smell, and my own mouth was watering when I turned around. I could see the fear in his eyes when he saw me. "Here, can you eat this?" I waited while he pulled his arms out of my cloak and took the bowl.

"Thank you." He kept his eyes on me as he dug in eagerly. My stomach twisted, and I wondered whether I should have made more soup. I pulled a bit of dried meat from my pack and chewed on it while I watched him. He looked a little better now with some warm food inside him and the heat of the fire on his face.

"Give me your boots."

"What?"

I reached down to jerk them off his feet and set them closer to the fire to dry. "They're wet. We'd better dry them or you'll lose your toes."

I studied him out of the corner of my eye as he finished eating. He was young, much younger than I, maybe seventeen years or so. Slim, pretty, with a pink mouth like a girl's. Blue eyes, fair hair, pale skin. Slender hands like an artist or a scribe. A Tuyet, of course. I smiled when I saw him looking back at me, and he smiled a little nervously. "Thank you." He handed the bowl and the spoon back to me, and I began to make my own bowl of soup. "I am pleased to meet you. My name is Hakan."

"Hakan Ithel?" He nodded. That would explain it, then. The prince. It was not hard to guess why he was fleeing out in the winter snow; rumors of Nekane Vidar's intent to seize power had been making their way through the army and the mercenary groups for some months. It was foolish of him to give me his name, for he had no real reason to trust me. He was a fool, or dangerously naive, and either way, Vidar's men would be on his trail soon enough.

"My name is Kemen Sendoa. You may call me Kemen. I am honored to make your acquaintance." I stood to bow formally to him. He watched me as I sat back down and waited for my soup to finish. "Are they following you?" He stared at me. "Are they following you?" I repeated.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"Then we'd best cover your tracks in case they are. Are you warm yet?" He nodded. I ate my soup hurriedly. There wasn't much for me, but I've missed meals before with no harm done.

I stamped out the fire and kicked a bit of snow over it. Of course anyone could find it easily enough, but we'd cover our trail better once we were on our way. A quick wipe of my bowl with some snow and it went back in my pack. "Are you going anywhere in particular?"

"No." He stood wrapped in my cloak, looking very young, and I felt a little sorry for him.

"Right then. Follow me." I slung my pack over my shoulder and started off. He stumbled after me, and I set a quick pace, glancing back every once in a while to make sure he was still behind me. The wind wasn't quite as strong here in the trees, though the air was quite cold. I set a pace quick enough to keep myself from freezing. He slipped and slid after me, and I had almost forgotten he was there when we reached the river. We weren't too far south of the ford at Sevenpine, but I didn't intend to let our pursuers track us there. We would head south on the bank, then wade in up to our ankles and head north. The ford was quite shallow, and the bank on the other side all rocky with small pebbles. With a bit of luck, it would snow again tonight and any tracks would be washed away. Certainly the rocks would not hold our scent long, and our trail would be lost. I wondered if I was being absurdly cautious, whether they would bother to use dogs at all. I started off downstream, and we walked in silence for almost an hour before stopping.

He stood beside me a moment, pale and tired. "I don't know how much farther I can go."

I looked at him sharply. "Would you rather stay here and wait for them to find you?" He shook his head. "Then we'd best get on. Keep the cloak out of the water." I waded in until the water lapped against the shins of my boots. I could feel it seeping icy cold into the seams, my feet shrinking away. Back upstream we went, slipping occassionally on the wet rocks of the riverbed. It was an hour back to where we'd started, then another hour and a half to the ford. The crossing itself took only a few minutes. On the other side we walked upstream for another half an hour, always on the rocks, before turning into the woods again. My feet had been stinging with cold, but finally the burning pinpricks had subsided to a raging ache of cold, my toes numb. Yet I did not stop until we reached a good shelter, a grand old tree that had finally been conquered by time and fallen, leaving a broad trunk stretched out on the ground. The boy collapsed to sit with his back against the tree while I gathered wood for another fire, this one small and subdued. A few hills would hide the light from anyone at the river. It was dangerous, if they were close behind us, but we would both lose our feet if we did not have a fire soon.

Darkness fell and we sat by the fire in silence, the heat stinging our faces. He glanced at me from time to time. I am content enough in silence, and he spoke first, as I began to prepare the last of the meat for dinner. "Please forgive my curiosity, but I have never seen anyone like you before. Where are you from?" His voice had the accent of the highborn.

"I grew up here in Erdem." I smiled at his look of confusion. "I am Dari. There are not many in Stonehaven. The Dari are from the east, and the few that live in Erdem are mostly near the eastern border." He waited, watching me. "I was a foundling, in Llewton, to the southeast of Stonehaven. Male foundlings and orphans are trained for the military. I served under your father until about four years ago." He leaned forward in interest, and I handed him the first bowl of soup.

"I have never seen a Dari before."

I grunted and when he flinched back I laughed. "Do I frighten you?"

"Should I be frightened?" He flung the question back at me with a bit of fire and I smiled.

"Nay, if I wanted to hurt you I would have done so by now. I'm no monster."

He smiled. "No, I think you are a man of honor. Thank you. I haven't thanked you properly, and I do apologize. I haven't been myself really. Normally I do have better manners." He tucked into the soup with good will, studying me closely. I suppose his curiosity was well-founded. The Dari and Tuyets are quite different. We Dari are generally tall and well-built, muscular but not heavy. Olive-skinned. Dark eyes are usual, but some of us also have green eyes. I am uncommonly tall even for a Dari, skin dark from years of sun, green eyes. I am a warrior, trained from childhood to fight as ferociously and efficiently as possible, and I bear the muscles and scars to prove it. I would not say I am handsome, but I am a good warrior. I stand on my honor, and have never lacked for courage. I speak Darin, my own language, only haltingly, and I am quite out of practice.