Soterius laughed. "You're just jealous, being dead and all."
Mikhail shrugged. "You assume that such attractions end. But immortality isn't as lonely as you seem to think."
Soterius gave him a sideways look. "You're kidding me-right?"
It was Mikhail's turn to smile. "On the contrary. Liaisons among my kind can last for several lifetimes. And mortal loves-while necessarily brief and always tragic-aren't uncommon."
Soterius thought about that. "How is that possible?"
Mikhail was silent for a few moments, until Soterius thought the other might not answer. "Mortals' lives are urgent and passionate because they are brief," Mikhail said finally. "There's a jad-edness that comes with knowing you have all the time in the world." His smile was sad. "Some among our kind never look back. Others leave behind a mortal lover and don't want to let go. Nearly all of us, I think, at one time or another, are drawn back to the warmth."
"It works better than you might think-no more difficult than those who overcome a difference in religion or who fall in love from opposite sides of a war. But for us, your days are so short-just a few seasons-and the life and light fade. Afterwards, the cold is worse for having been near the flame."
"I never knew that being dead had quite so much in common with being alive."
"Being 'dead' doesn't. Being 'undead' is something else entirely."
TADRIE, THE FARMER Kiara had rescued on her trek across Margolan, met them at the entrance to the refugee camp. He was as tall as Soterius and lean, with broad shoulders and calloused hands that spoke of hard work. Soterius guessed that Tadrie was past his fortieth year, although he looked older. "Good, you're here." Tadrie bustled toward the two men. "I have a crowd for you." Soterius brightened. "You found volunteers?" Tadrie chuckled. "Oh, I found volunteers enough. Had to keep the women and boys from volunteering, that's the Lady's truth. Everyone in this camp wants to see that demon Jared off the throne."
"I feel the same way," Soterius said. "Let's see what you've pulled together." He gestured to the wagon behind him. "We've brought supplies for the camp-food and firewood from Prince Martris and King Staden, and weapons to help with the training." "And blankets?" Tadrie asked excitedly. "And blankets."
Tadrie whistled, and the refugees pressed forward. Soterius and Mikhail helped unload the precious cargo and smiled uncomfortably as the displaced farmers and trades people thanked them over and over again.
