(no subject)

Excerpt from a fantasy novel currently being given it's last (I hope) edit before submission:

Some time later - and feeling much better - the group of travelers rested in their cramped but warm quarters. After the hectic and demanding pace of the past few days the quiet and security of this shelter were quite welcome, indeed. Even the routine of hanging their laundry - the second batch, consisting of the clothes they had removed before bathing - helped their mood.
"This was a very good idea," said Bergen, as she hung the last of her now cleaned clothes to dry on a line above her cot. She felt a bit embarrassed by the underwear, but in these close quarters there was no other place for it. "After this respite we can move faster tomorrow."
"I feel tired," said the Prince, who lay sprawled on his back in a very undignified manner, "but not sleepy."
Bergen had been a bit surprised when the Prince did his share of cleaning, of both dishes and clothing. She was rapidly gaining a very favorable impression of the young royal.
"It's early, yet," said Llewellyn, from where he worked cross-legged on his cot with Carol and Eigenbrode, using a portable desk to examine a map of the area. "Just chat and relax for a while. We'll all be sleepy soon enough."
The youngest of their group was in the far right corner of the small room. Carol's cot was to the left of that, with Bergen's at the foot of the Prince's space, nearest the door. Llewellyn had the remaining cot. As Bergen finished and sat down under her damp laundry the Prince rolled over, sat up on the end of his cot and leaned towards her.
"What is the story behind their hair and this 'Brother' business?" said the Prince, quietly, to the chi master, while the others planned.
"Many magical healers go through a sort of mystical evaluation ceremony, where they are presented with multiple paths." Bergen glanced at the two white-haired men, who were chatting away like old friends. Carol didn't seem exactly happy with this, but wasn't objecting. "This usually happens with treateurs, wardein or crafters, though sometimes some other type of magical healer also experiences this trial. Those who choose a particular path get the white hair. Some call those the Children of the Light. They don't use that term, themselves, though. They consider it immodest."
The Prince watched the two healers, his expression difficult to read. Bergen, distracted with recalling how she had acquired that information, was a bit startled when he spoke again.
"My instructors keep teaching me that the age of wonders is long past. That today, all is known or knowable, tamed and disciplined, including magic... With those two men, though... and there's more to them than the white hair and calm manner. Much more."
Bergen was impressed. She'd already figured out that the Prince was no shallow, spoiled brat of a high noble. Now she was starting to realize he was both observant and insightful. Far more like his grandfather than his father. The elf woman looked back at the pair of healers.
"I once heard someone unusually perceptive say that even without those clues, the light behind their eyes gives them away."