{19}
The Weary NavigatorDays passed, in a vague sense, held together by routine: hours of trudging in wiry, thigh-high grass on horse or on foot, breaking for rests, continuing on, making camp for the night, eating, and finally sleeping. And always it was northeast, as Biahnd had instructed.
The initial two days were filled with optimism and self-
approval. On the third day, she was having her doubts, and by the fifth, those doubts had turned to discouragement. Fearing she had misjudged the position of the sun, she’d back-tracked a bit, tried due east for half a day, then turned northeast again.
Nothing. It was the eighth day now with no road in sight and Santha was fighting down panic.
Weary and bleary-eyed, she trudged onward. What else could she do? Biahnd’s directions were all she
