Bright blue skies overhead gave a false promise that summer might return. The fog and the clouds drew back, revealing changes in the countryside. The river had changed gradually, with the far bank slowly advancing back toward them. Perhaps, Leftrin thought, they had finally passed through the remains of the wide lake that the dragons had spoken of. But it was just as likely, he told Swarge, “That nothing is as they remember it. And anything that they tell us of how things used to be can be worse than useless to us. If we rely on it instead of our own river sense, and they’re wrong, we could go nosing into all sorts of trouble.” Swarge had nodded gravely but said nothing, as was usual with him. Leftrin hadn’t really expected any conversation from him, but he would have welcomed more than a nod. He felt he’d been left too much alone with his own thoughts lately. Alise had been quiet for days, almost withdrawn. Oh, she smiled at him, and once or twice, she had taken his hand, so he did not think she was seriously regretting their interlude together.
