Bastion

rest came out with their bedrolls neatly bundled and the cooking gear and supplies to go back into the wagon, she had both horses harnessed. Amily and Lena scrambled up the steps into the wagon after stowing the pots in their outside box, and Bear handed everything up to them before following and pulling the steps up behind himself. It seemed they had gotten things down to a routine so far as Mags could see.
    While he and Jakyr tacked up the Companions, Lita moved the horses into position. By the time he had Dallen saddled and was ready to mount, she had finished the harnessing, working so smoothly and efficiently that it was obvious she had done this so many times it was as second-nature to her as tacking Dallen was to him. What surprised him was something he hadn’t noticed when he’d first seen the caravan. There was room for only one horse between the shafts; the other was harnessed alongside the first, on the right, outside the shafts. When the horses were buckled up, Lita got herself into place behind them and took up the reins. He watched in utter fascination as, with a series of remarkably economical maneuvers, she got the wagon completely turned around and pointed in the right direction.
    Never did the horses seem confused; never did they seem to put a foot wrong. It was almost like a dance, forward while turning, then back, then forward while turning, until the caravan was completely turned around, all in a space that wasn’t much bigger than two of the caravans put end to end. Mags was impressed.
    So was Jakyr. Mags could tell it from his face. He didn’t say anything, though, just gave a hand-gesture to Mags to follow, and skirted around the wagon and onto the path out as soon as Lita was ready.
    Mags had been a little afraid that the horses would just plod along, but their pace was a good, steady, brisk walk. They seemed to enjoy their work and weren’t straining at all. Lita didn’t use the little seat; she sat on the “floor” of the porch with her feet braced against a beam that separated the shafts, both hands full of reins, her Scarlet hooded coat wrapped and tied tightly around her, with the hood snugged down with a Scarlet wool scarf. It was clear that of all of them, she was probably the best prepared next to Jakyr for the trip. In her Scarlets, she was the brightest bit in the landscape; the color of her uniform and the few spots of blue on the Companions’ tack, and the faint pastels of the vines and flowers on the wagon were the only touches of color in all the gray and brown.
    :It isn’t as if she’s never done this before, you know,: Dallen chided him. :She’s more used to living on the road than you are. Before she was a teacher or the Dean, she was a Journeyman, and then a Master Bard, and Bards wander. And before that, she was a drover.:
    Jakyr forged on ahead, though he at least had the courtesy to stay within about five lengths of the caravan. Mags asked Dallen to drift back to Lita once they were properly on the road. Fortunately, that river below them was moving along placidly, or the noise of rushing water would have drowned out any attempt at conversation. Even the river was gray, moving along with scarcely a ripple on its surface. There wasn’t much sound other than the clop of the horses’ hooves, the faint chime of the Companions’ feet, and the sounds of the wagon. There was the steady creak of wood, the sound of the metal-rimmed wheels crackling through the layer of dead leaves on the road, and the steady breathing of the horses in time with their pace.
    It was peaceful. Just as peaceful as the slow, ambling pace he and Jakyr had taken on the first leg of their journey. If it hadn’t been so cold, it would have been perfect.
    I better get used to the cold again. There’ll be a lot more of it afore there’s less.
    “Dallen says you was a drover,” Mags said, as he caught Lita’s eye, and she nodded cordially enough to him. “What’s a drover?”
    “A drover is anyone who drives animals,” she said, “Now, that can just mean someone who herds them for long distances, when you take a herd of sheep or cattle or horses to market, for instance. That’s done afoot sometimes, sometimes ahorse. But in my case, it literally meant that I was a driver. My whole family worked as wagon, cart, and caravan drivers over great distances. We were the ones who got trading caravans where they were supposed to go. I used to live in a van like this one, only not nearly as