Several weeks ago.

For some time now, Martel's been steadfastly ignoring the knowledge wallowing in the back of his mind, and as much as he knows he can't continue ignoring it forever he'd really like to try. Relegated to the same place as 'Sparhawk used the word reconcile without spitting on it', his understanding of what he's been told lies not dormant enough for his comfort and in retrospect he sort of wishes he hadn't been able to grasp it so quickly. Another precious few moments ignorant, instead of this prissy refusal to examine the inside of his own mind-

He's not that self-pitying, he tells himself, and he's a very good liar.

"Candice?" he calls, pulling his gloves off as he comes down the hall towards wherever she's sequestered herself, having saved everyone a bit of time by merely asking where to find her when he arrived back from his bi-monthly tete-a-tete with the nearby chieftain and heading immediately in that direction. The problem with taking the time to go on horseback, alone, is that there's nothing better to do except think. He has a few thoughts, and there's really only one person he's inclined to share them with.

( in a slumber doubtful as death )