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you d throw those years away into a ditch? For mere conceit?
 I mtrying for exactly the reverse. Dar swiped an angry hand across his
brow.  You re the one who seems to be galloping blindly for the ditch.
 Not by my will. Nor Fairbolt s. He ll stand up for me. Actually, Fairbolt
had said only that he didn t care to defend this before the camp council not
whether he would overcome his understandable distaste if he had to. But Dag
was disinclined to confide his doubts to Dar at this point.
 What, scoffed Dar,  with all the trouble this will make for patrol
discipline? Think again.
Had Dar and Fairbolt been talking? Dag began to be sorry he had held himself
aloof from camp gossip these past days, even though it had seemed wiser not to
present his head for drumming on or let himself be drawn into arguments. He
countered,  Fawn s a special case anyway. She s not just any farmer, she s the
farmer girl who slew a malice. As contrasted with, for example, your malice
count. What was it, again? Oh, yes none?
Dar s lips thinned in an unfelt smile.  If you like, brother. Or maybe the
count is, every malice that any knife of my making slew. Without a sharing
knife no patroller is a malice killer. You re just malice food walking
around.
Dag drew breath through his nostrils and tried to get a better grip on his
temper.  True. And without hands to wield them, your knives are just what did
you call them? wall decorations. I think we need to cry truce on this one.
Dar nodded shortly. They paced beside each other for a time.
When he could trust himself to speak again, Dag went on,  Without Fawn s
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hand, I would be dead now, and maybe a good part of my patrol with me. And
you d have spent the past weeks having memorial rites and making tender
speeches about what a fine fellow I was.
Dar sighed.  Almost better, that would be. Simpler, at least.
 I appreciate thatalmost. Almost. Dag gathered his wits, or attempted to.
 In any case, your bird won t fly. Fairbolt s made it clear he ll tolerate
this for the sake of need and won t take it to the council. And neither will
Mama. Get used to us, Dar. He let his voice soften to persuasion, almost
plea.  Fawn is her own sort of worthy. You d see it if you d let yourself look
at her straight. Give her a chance, and you won t be sorry.
 You re besotted.
Dag shrugged.  And the sun rises in the east. You re not going to change
either fact. Give up the gloom and set your mind to some more open view.
 Aunt Mari was a feckless fool to let this get by.
 She made all the same arguments that you just did. Rather better phrased,
but Dar had never been a diplomat.  Dar, let it ride. It ll work out in time.
Folks will get used to it. Fawn and I may always be an oddity, but we won t
start a stampede any more than Sarri did with her two husbands. Hickory Lake
will survive us. Life will go on.
Dar inhaled, staring straight ahead.  I will go to the camp council.
Dag covered the chill in his belly with a slow blink.  Will you, now. What
will Mama say? I thought you hated rows.
 I do. But it s come down to me. Someone has to act. Mama cries, you know. It
has to be done, and it has to be done soon. Dar grimaced.  Omba says if we
wait till you get your farmer girl pregnant, you ll never be shifted.
 She s right, said Dag, far more coolly than he felt.
Dar bore the look of a man determined to do his duty, however repugnant. Yes,
Dar would stiffen Cumbia, even against her better judgment. Did both imagine
Dag would cave in to these threats or did they both realize he wouldn t? Or
was it one of each?
 So, said Dag,  I m a sacrifice you re willing to make, am I? Is Mama so
willing?
 Mama knows we all know your passion for patrolling. How hard you fought to
get back in after you lost your hand. Is dipping your wick in this farmer girl
worth casting away your whole life?
Dar was remembering the brother from eighteen years back, Dag thought.
Agonized, exhausted, seeking only to deal death in turn to that which had made
him the walking corpse he d felt himself to be. And then, with luck, to be
reunited in death with all that he d lost, because no other course seemed
possible or even imaginable. Something strange and new had happened to that
Dag in the malice cave near Glassforge. Or something that had been happening
below the surface had finally been brought to light.I m not who you think I am
anymore, Dar. You look at me yet don t see me. Dar seemed curiously like
Fawn s kin, in that way.So who am I? For the first time in a long time, Dag
wasn t sure he knew the answer, and that was a lot more disturbing than Dar s
old assumptions.
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Dar misinterpreted Dag s uneasy look.  Yeah, that s got you thinking! About
time. I m not going to back off on this. This is your warning.
Dag touched the cord below his rolled-up left sleeve.  Neither am I. That s
yours.
They both maintained a stony silence as they reached the shore road again and
turned right. Dar managed a nod when he turned off at the Redwing campsite,
but he spoke no word of farewell, of further meetings, or of any other
indication of his intent. Dag, fuming, returned an equally silent nod and
walked on.
On the mere physical level, Dag thought he need have no fear for either Fawn
or himself. It wasn t Dar s style to gather a bunch of hotheads like Sunny and
his friends to deliver violent rebuke. A formal charge before the camp council
was precisely what Dar would do, no question there. His was no idle threat.
Dag felt a curious blankness within himself at the thought, in a way like the
familiar empty moment before falling into attack on a malice lair.
He considered the current makeup of the camp council. There were normally a
representative and an alternate from each island, chosen yearly by rotation
from the heads of the various clans and other elders, plus the camp captain as
a permanent member on behalf of the patrol and its needs. Cumbia had been on
the council herself once, and Dag s grandfather, before he d grown too
fragile, had been an alternate twice.
Dag had scarcely paid attention to who was in the barrel on council this
year, or to tell the truth any other year, and suddenly it mattered.
The council resolved most conflicts by open discussion and binding mediation.
Only in matters involving banishment or a death sentence did they make their
votes secret, and then the quorum was not the usual five, but the full seven.
There had only been two murders in Hickory Lake Camp in Dag s lifetime, and
the council had settled the more ambiguous by ordering a payment between the
families; only one had led to an execution. Dag had never yet witnessed a
banishment like the one at Log Hollow that Saun had gossiped about. Dag
couldn t help feeling that there must have been a more unholy mess backing up
behind that incident than Saun s short description suggested.Like mine? Maybe
not.
Dag had deliberately steered clear of camp gossip in the past days if only to
avoid the aggravation, keeping to himself with Fawn and healing, don t forget
that but in any case he doubted very many of his friends would repeat the most
critical remarks to his face. He could think of only one man he could trust to
do so without bias in either direction. He made plans to seek Fairbolt after
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