He came on a clear morning.
Not announced — he had written to Marcus that he was thinking about making the drive, and Marcus had passed this along, and I had said the road north was open, and then three days passed and nothing further was said, and I had assumed he was still deciding.
He was not still deciding.
He arrived at the gate with a single bag — not a small one, not the bag of someone making a short visit. The bag of someone who has packed the things that matter and has decided, even if the decision is still finding its language.
Roan sent word.
I went to the gate.
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Soran was tall.
That was the first thing — I had not built a physical image of him from the letters, and the reality was someone tall and lean with the weathered ease of someone who had spent a lot of time in
