Tawny weeds and grasses bent low to the ground beneath the wind, their heads heavy with the weight of next year’s life. Oak, beech, and rowan trees bowed leaf-stripped branches as an invisible river of air rushed by. Wind sent ragged white cloud banners flying from the distant peaks. The sky between the clouds was a blue as deep as the treasured lapis lazuli brought back from the Saracen lands. But it was the sun that ruled the day. The sun was an incandescent golden disk that burned with angelic purity. Covertly, Simon studied his wife in the rich autumn light. She sat her mare with the elegance and ease that had beguiled him on the hard ride from Blackthorne to Stone Ring Keep. To his surprise, her Learned dress had proved to be quite suited for riding. It didn’t flap or fly or climb or hinder. If it hadn’t been made of cloth, Simon would have called the dress well behaved. The fabric fascinated him. The longer he looked at it, the more he thought he saw…something…woven into the very warp and weft.
