At last, it was time for one of Nat's talents to come to the fore. Yes, it was time to devise and implement an optimal packing plan — truly, the most useful of skills — if you were into logistics.

  It wasn't some system granted capability or anything so grandiose. It could be a bizarrely useful skill though — one that had proven itself time and time again when he'd insisted he could pack, wedge, or otherwise arrange a random set of things into an optimal configuration for a given space. He could also determine when something wasn't possible in any configuration within a few seconds, which conversely meant that sometimes a packing job someone insisted was not feasible could turn into a fun game of ‘hold my drink and watch this!’ as he achieved a supposedly impossible fit.

  The actual process — if it was even worth calling it that — was straightforward, and required no active effort or even concentration on Nat's part. He simply cast a quick glance toward the assorted containers of food, beverages, clothes, poles, stakes, canvas, some line, and other minor travel gear that had been collected. Then he opened the door on the side of the carriage and leaned in, opened the doors on the small storage spaces beneath the seats and added that into his mental model.

  A final glance in the boot solved for the rest of the available space. The boot was mostly empty, containing only Tanner's small overnight rucksack, and some spare tack which clearly didn't fit in the smaller padlocked bags attached in various places around the coach. Those were almost certainly for the coach master's personal use or deliveries; no coach, carriage, or wagon for hire would set out without taking a few extra packages or missives along if it could be helped; profit margins were razor-thin already, and one would be a fool not to transport something that both paid and wouldn't complain about the weather.

  There were some unknowns still present, like Lyn's travel gear, but Nat assumed Lyn would have a pack suitable for a 1.3m silverpaw — and budgeted for that as well.

  He took it all in, then assembled a mental model of the sizes and shapes of everything he'd seen. No internal mental picture formed — Nat lacked that ability entirely — but he just instantly had a grasp on the volumes and shapes of everything. A few more seconds of staring off into space and his mind figured out how everything would best fit, taking position and orientation into account. There was no moment of realization or a snap of understanding, it always felt like it should have one, but no — he just knew if, and how, he could pack everything best.

  He paused a beat and let the order he'd need to put things bubble up into his consciousness. His organizational ability also accounted for packages moving or rattling around, and what should be accessible mid-trip. He wondered if this was his enhanced cognition at play or just something he'd been born with — he doubted he'd ever know, because how would you even test that?

  After a few moments, he nodded to himself and started putting everything where it best belonged, according to the plan.

  Anyway, it wasn't a big deal, it wouldn't really matter much, but Nat was happy to be useful and maybe save some time packing, unpacking, and repacking. One never knew what a few minutes saved here or there might matter. He sat down on a stone bench and nibbled on some jerky he'd purloined from one of the baskets to wait, mind wandering over some of the day's earlier discussions and what exactly his traits and talents might actually do, now that he knew what they were called, if nothing else.

  The coach master came back a few minutes later, glanced at the now-empty space where the luggage had been, opened the boot and a few of the storage compartment doors briefly, and raised an eyebrow. “Fast and efficient. Good job.” She pulled a few fruits out of a side bag and went back to finish tending to the horses, letting them take their choice of one each; probably an apology for not letting them finish grazing.

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  Nat smiled and continued to sit and think in silence, considering the alternately unsettling and intriguing aspects of the day. That only lasted several minutes until Tanner returned.

  “Hey again, Nat.”

  “Tanner, been a while.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “I'd just been considering a few cryptic things I've heard today — that's another. You want to be the one to explain?”

  Tanner sat down beside Nat on the cool stone. “Probably best I'm not, truth be told. I expect Lyn will want to talk shortly, though. If you're going to be travelling, there are a few things you'll need to know.”

  “I'll wait, then. I'm used to it and I imagine we'll have time on the road. But if they don't have answers, I'll ask you again, if you don't mind.”

  “That's fair.”

  “How have you been, other than, you know — all this?” Tanner waved his arm in a way that indicated, well, everything.

  “You know how it goes — can't complain, wouldn't matter if I did anyway.”

  They sat in comfortable silence for a minute. That was one of the things Nat really appreciated about Tanner — it was just okay to sit and simply be.

  Nat noticed that Tanner's usual tics were almost entirely absent compared to the last time he'd seen him a few weeks back. They had been present to some degree through the day, but were much reduced in severity, so much so they just hadn't merited notice. Tanner was Tanner. The tics and unbidden vocalizations didn't bother Nat like he knew they did other people. It wasn't like he was drinking a glass of water or something. Nat would never understand people who could stand next to someone gulping down some liquid without trying to flee lest they go quietly, or loudly, mad.

  He'd normally never broach the subject of Tanner's tics, but Nat figured he wouldn't mind. The Brin was practical about his problems, meeting them head on without shame; they might have been his burden, but they weren't his fault, after all.

  “You seem a lot better since I last saw you. Is the new therapy that effective?”, Nat said.

  “Haven't had it yet, actually. This will be my first, and hopefully only, time. My old therapy is effective enough, but requires regular sessions to remain effective. This is all just hard-earned work the old-fashioned way.” He'd gestured to himself at that last part, indicating pride in his accomplishment. Nat got it; Tanner deserved recognition for his persistence in the face of a constant struggle.

  “Oh? Still planning on having it?” Nat hadn't missed yet another one of those weird hinting phrases. He suspected his memory had gotten worse, and they were trying to be sensitive about it, so he decided to leave it. He'd have a captive audience to interrogate soon enough.

  “Lyn says it's safe enough to do on the move. I'm not thrilled at the rush, to be honest. But, the aether therapy should be longer lasting — it won't require the regular trips here to Bell House, which are expensive and time-consuming. So assuming it works, even if you weren't leaving, we might not see each other again for a long time.”

  Lyn stepped in around the opposite corner from where Nat had expected them at that moment. They must have dodged out to their room to pack their things while Nat was otherwise focused. “I think it best — it shouldn't be a cause for concern and this might be the last chance to perform it for a few weeks or more. We've got a number of hours till dusk, the treatment is entirely non-invasive, and I should be able to perform it on the road without risk. I'd still prefer to do it here, but I'd rather not spend the 15 minutes sitting here when we could be on the road, even if it means I don't have an assistant. Sorry.” Lyn paused, then continued. “That is of course ultimately up to you Tanner. I do not believe there's any danger at all, and we can be very cautious about the levels.”

  “I've got no problem with it, if you believe it's safe enough.” Tanner turned to Nat, “That okay with you?”

  “No problem here. I can't imagine why I might object. Just as long as there's no pouring water, or I'm jumping out, moving or not.”

  Tanner stood back up, “Well, then let's not delay any further. I'll go tell the coach master.”

  With that, Lyn, Nat, then Tanner climbed aboard, and were off.

  Fifteen seconds later the cart came to a halt, Nat jumped out with a hurried, “Sorry! Sorry! Be right back!” and ran to the nearby bathroom door.

  And then, two minutes later, they were really off.