“The dwarves,” Teryn said, annoyed. She made a dismissive gesture. “They care nothing for our mission. They will not care if we perish here.”
“Let us try anyhow,” Rin said.
“Oh, why not?” Lakanta said with resignation. “Just because they might not care for our task does not mean decency is beyond them. I have been through these parts many times over the years. They might be grieved, or at least annoyed, to find my corpse decaying upon their doorstep come spring, whenever our book thief lets it turn over into spring.”
“How can you jest at the notion that we could die here within reach of help?”
The small woman regarded Serafina with sympathy in her eyes. “Child, I have been around a lot of years, and if you don’t laugh, you cry.”
She slipped off her pony’s back and disappeared among the bare stones. The movement brought the packed snow on the rocks above tumbling down upon them. Rin stamped a hoof and twitched.
Teryn herded the rest of them over to one side of the canyon, under a broad stone outcrop that momentarily sheltered them from the snow. Tildi climbed down to let Rin shake out her blanket cloak. Edynn held out her hands. They were trembling.
“I’m not sure I can keep going, my friends.”
“I can make a fire for you,” Tildi offered. She held out her hand, and a green blaze burst out on her palm. She looked around for something to set it on.
“Don’t use that, Tildi,” Serafina snapped. “It’ll attract more of our foe’s lurkers. We are at a disadvantage in a fight at the moment.”
“I am sorry,” Tildi said, abashed at her impetuousness. “I forgot the wards.” She drew them swiftly, pleased at her own expertise. Her experience had grown over the last weeks, and with it, her confidence. No malign creature would use it as a portal to harass them now. “This fire doesn’t need any wood, you see. My brother used it to kill thraiks. It’s just as warm as real fire.”
“So I see,” Edynn said with gentle amusement. Tildi set the blaze down on a nearby rock. The others gathered around it, glad of the heat. Tildi automatically felt in her pack, and came up with a dusty packet of tea.
“Would anyone like some?” she asked. Teryn couldn’t hide the smile
as she found the kettle among their luggage, filled it with snow and set it to boil over the leaping green flames. Shortly, steam began to rise. Tildi poured the tea and handed Edynn the first cup. The elder wizardess drank it gratefully.
“Whatever we may find after this,” she said, “nothing could be as delicious as this little kindness of yours. Thank you, Tildi.”
Tildi bridled with pleasure as she offered the hot beverage around. The compliment warmed her as well as drinking the tea did. Her nose thawed out enough to run, but she felt better. Once the tea was gone she filled her cup with hot water to hold between her cold hands and touch to her cheeks. Though the snow continued to fall just inches from her, she no longer noticed it as much.
Edynn bowed her head. “Friends, I am sorry. I apologize for my weakness. I did not foresee that our quarry would use the book against us. More fool I. He laid a trap for us, and we have walked straight into its snares. If I could have held out longer we might have been able to find a more hospitable place to stay. Now I fear trying to fly against this weather.”
“It is not your fault, Mother,” Serafina fretted. She paced up to the growing wall of snow at the edge of the lip of stone. The horses danced nervously as she passed them. Morag’s eyes rolled with fear. She glared at him, making him step backward. At last she burst out. “Where has she gone? She has tried to turn us the wrong way ever since we set out from Silvertree.”
“What are you talking about?” Rin asked sharply. “Lakanta is our true friend. She is trying to aid us. I hope she is not wrong, but I applaud her making the attempt.”
The young wizardess’s eyes were wild. “She’s a spy. She’s gone to lead the enemy to us.”
“How could she? He’s miles ahead of us.”
“Then she is abandoning us. She knows where the dwarves reside, and she will live with them until this cursed storm goes. By then we will all be dead.”
“In my home,” Tildi said in her calmest and most friendly tones, doing her best not to sound accusatory, “we have a saying that the truth usually comes out in time. Why not just wait?”
Serafina could not seem to settle. Tildi now understood why she was so concerned, but there were no doors here to shut. It was not her mother’s fate to die in these circumstances, so the chances were good that the rest
of them would survive, too. Tildi knew well that there was no point in explaining her theory to Serafina. They simply had to wait, and watch her pace up and back through the melting puddles of snow.
After what seemed like forever, they heard threshing noises outside. Rin’s sensitive ears went up as the horses’ did, and the peddler woman appeared, walking very slowly because of the huge bundle in her arms. Teryn sprang forward to help, followed by Morag and Tildi.
“Easy there,” Lakanta said. “The top one will slosh. I’ve already had a faceful of soup. Go on, now. Put that over the fire to warm up again. There’s a deeper cave up ahead, one that will hold all of us. But that can wait until we’ve eaten. I’m starved.”
“Where did you get this?” Serafina demanded as the others relieved the short woman of her burdens. Each of the dishes was beautifully made, either fancifully painted earthenware, or gleaming gold or gemmed silver. Tildi didn’t care what they looked like, as long as the dishes contained food.
Lakanta grinned over the top of a covered platter encrusted with winking jewels. “There was a dwarf hall below our feet. I recognized one of the entrances back on the last turning but one. I thought that fallen scree looked as though it was too neat for Mother Nature to have tumbled it that way. You would not have noticed. You were not meant to have noticed it. They have been tracking our progress all this time.”
“You mean you have been telling them where we are,” Teryn said.
“Not at all. Here, take this. It’s most of the knuckle end of a roast. And here is a cheese. These are dates stuffed with jam. Very sweet and very sticky. Ah, there, you can just lick your hand.” She unloaded more packages from the capacious pockets of her cloak and handed them around.
“We mustn’t eat this food! It might be poisoned,” Teryn cautioned them.
“Don’t be a fool and starve to death!”
“I can wait until we find a source I trust,” the captain said stoutly.
“Ah, but can the noble lady here?” Lakanta asked, nodding toward Edynn. “You know that answer as well as I. That was part of the logic I used to get it, you see.”
“How do we know the dwarves have goodwill toward us?” Serafina asked, more reasonably.
“Ah, now that is a good question,” Lakanta said, and paused.
“Well?”
“I don’t let this get out much,” Lakanta said very hesitantly. “There are many good reasons, and you may guess most of them.”
“What is it?” Tildi asked, becoming alarmed. Had her new friend a dark secret, as Serafina had accused her of having?
“I think I know,” Edynn said with a smile. “They would not grudge provisions to a cousin.”
Lakanta looked relieved. “That’s it, you see. And you don’t mind, though I think these two do.” She nodded toward the soldiers.
“You’re a dwarf?” Teryn asked in disbelief. “But you look like a human.”
“Bite your tongue. In spite of what Olen told you that still doesn’t make it a compliment.”
“My apologies,” Teryn said humbly. “This is a gracious feast, and we are grateful.”
“Aye,” muttered Morag.
“Indeed we are,” Edynn agreed.
“Can we not go into the halls?” Serafina asked suddenly. “You can see how the storm is affecting my mother.”
“No, no,” Lakanta said, holding up her hands. “This is all the aid they would offer. Except for some blankets, and fodder for the horses, which you may find back there about a hundred paces. I couldn’t carry them all the way and still keep the food from falling out of my arms.” She nodded with her nose in the direction from which she had come. “They have fed you and given you what you need to survive. Consider that all you need. They like their privacy. Heavens, if every nosy traveler could just fall into the halls, then their lives would be over, as
they
see it.”
“Come on,” Serafina ordered Tildi. “We will follow her trail back to the dwarf hall. They will not refuse us shelter. You stay here,” she said to Lakanta.
Tildi tucked her cloak tightly around her and followed the young wizardess into the twilight. At that moment the wind had died down. She followed Serafina’s billowing cape around the bends of the canyon.
There was no difficulty in finding Lakanta’s footsteps. The snow had come up to the middle of her thighs. She had plowed her way through, leaving twin trenches punctuated by deeper holes where her feet had pressed. Tildi inched along through one track, unable to see past Serafina.
The young wizardess stopped abruptly. Tildi cannoned into her legs and sat down in the snow.
“Curse them!” Serafina exclaimed.
“What is the matter?” Tildi peered around the woman’s skirts at dark heaps to either side of the trail. “The blankets are here. And a bag of oats.”
“And nothing else.” Serafina flung out a hand at the landscape. Tildi did not understand what she was meant to see until she realized there was nothing to see. Beyond the piles of blankets the trail ended. The drifts of snow seemed untouched. “Did she rise out of the earth at this point, or do her dastardly relatives know the Cold Magic, and can call in winter at will, like our thief? What will happen to my mother?”
Tildi felt sorry for her. To think that she had ever envied Edynn the gift of the prophecy. Serafina could not see how her fear of the future made it impossible to enjoy the present. Shaking her head, she gathered up as many of the fallen blankets as she could hold, and stumped back along the narrow trail to where the others were waiting.
Teryn was still trying to make her case. “But do the dwarves not believe in our mission? They will suffer the same as we will if we can’t get the book back.”
“Of course they believe in it!” Lakanta said. “They can’t bother to do anything about it themselves, but they believe in keeping their way of life safe, the way it’s always been. That’s why they’ve given us their best. Plus these lovely blankets. Oh, and see? There are linens in between. We shall sleep soundly and well in these. Best weaving in the world—except for what your people produce, my dear,” she said to Tildi. “Ah, and look here. There’s a hat for you.”
“For her?” Serafina asked.
“Well, who else would it fit?” Lakanta demanded, holding up a wool hemisphere. “It fits across my palm, that’s all. Unless you want to fit one ear into that, honorable lady, I believe it’s a gift for Tildi. Yes, they’re willing to give us whatever we need, but out here, please.”
“No matter,” Teryn said stolidly. “We’ll make do with our own camp. Now that we have fire. And provisions.”
Lakanta nodded extravagantly. “That is what I have been trying to tell you. Once we’ve had some good, solid food inside us, we’ll see things in a much more reasonable light. Now, let’s eat before everything gets cold!”
“I wish I could see the halls,” Edynn said, as the guards reluctantly began to serve the soup. “I did once, long ago, before humans and dwarves fell out so permanently. They were beautiful. The carvings were worth a lifetime of study.”
“I wish I could see them, too, Mother,” Serafina said wistfully. “I wish we could go there together.”
Edynn patted her fondly on the hand. “Now, child, you’ll have your own experiences to tell your children about. Don’t live through me. My stories are my gift to you.”
Tildi was simply grateful for what she had at the moment. The stout pottery tureen holding the soup kept it piping hot until it was dished around in everyone’s bowls. Tildi closed her eyes to breathe in the steam, partly to warm her nose, and partly to absorb the luscious aromas. What a lot she had learned how to do without in just a few short months! First her hair, then her home, then a roof over her head at all. Bathing had become an occasional luxury. But here she had food, lots of it, and it smelled delicious. She also knew a secret, one that made her new friend even more interesting a companion than she had been.
She opened her eyes to see Lakanta’s bright blue ones gleaming at her. The dwarf woman winked at her and leaned close, her voice muffled by the roar of the wind at their backs. “Maybe some time I’ll get you a tour, lass. But not these big bunglers. My kin don’t want anyone bumping around and knocking the lamps askew. Not that even Rin is tall enough to touch the buttresses down below in this place,” Lakanta added thoughtfully. “My heavens, I thought my homeland was a picture and a half, but that below us is a whole gallery.”
I
n the morning the party steeled themselves to riding out against the snow. The wind had not lessened, but the sky had lightened considerably with the rising of the sun. The footing had improved, as the snow had frozen during the night. Rin tested it gingerly and pronounced it suitable for the horses. Tildi renewed the spell upon the map. She felt forlorn as she saw how far away the book was. The thief was moving so fast that the dot flowed visibly on the broad parchment. He was still traveling north by northeast.
The dwarves were evidently in favor of the continuation of the quest. Outside the cavern where they had sheltered, covered dishes waited upon a flat rock. Lakanta was as astonished as the others. There wasn’t a single footprint or disturbed wreath of snow to show from whence the
generous bounty had sprung. Tildi squinted at the outcroppings of rock, trying to distinguish a door or a place of concealment, but she could not.
“There’s no telling,” Lakanta said, helping to bring them inside. “I called them stingy, so they’re falling over themselves to be generous to us. I think they’re just being contrary, but I’m grateful, no doubt about it.”
Tildi, replete with a proper smallfolk’s breakfast of hot porridge and sausages, felt as if she was fit to continue, though the snow was now pouring sideways past the door of their cave. Rin lifted her onto her back. Tildi bundled herself up in her cloak and one of the dwarven blankets.
“What will we do with the dishes?” Edynn asked with a glance at the pile of beautiful platters and tureens, looking like a treasure trove from a fairy tale.
“Oh, just leave them here,” Lakanta suggested casually. “They’ll come back for them when we’ve gone.”
“I would like to thank them,” Edynn said. “Is there a way I can do that?”
“Not personally. They don’t want to meet you. If we accomplish what we have set out to do, they will consider that thanks enough,” Lakanta said. “They won’t help us directly, they’ve said that already, but they won’t hinder, and they will not assist the enemy, though they believe, as we do, that he is already far ahead of us.”
“Nevertheless, I owe them the gesture.” Edynn rode out into the blowing storm.
“Friend dwarves!” she called out, holding her staff on high. “We are grateful for your hospitality. Thank you for sustaining us. Farewell! I will seek to repay the kindness if it is ever in my power.”
“They’ll just ignore you,” Lakanta warned her.
Edynn turned to her. “No matter. They’ve saved our lives. I know I feel years younger because of their bounty.”
The party set out at a near crawl. The wind was so harsh that Tildi only peeked out of her nest of woolen clothes now and again. The scene was nearly the same every time: a view of Rin’s back, straining forward and half-covered with snow. Before them, the faint dark shape of Teryn, gamely leading them onward. Of the canyon she could see little past the pellets of snow that whipped by them. The canyon seemed to be narrowing, and the speed of the wind seemed to increase in response.
They stopped frequently to catch their breath and to rest the horses
in one of the many overhangs that offered themselves in the sloping stone walls. As she was the only one whose fire was not immediately extinguished by the gusts and snow, Tildi was designated as provider of water for the steeds. The animals, whose eyes were crusted with ice crystals, drank thirstily. She patted the legs of the huge beasts with sympathy. She was grateful they were strong enough to help carry the party forward in the storm. If she had had to walk on her own feet, she would have quit after barely a hundred yards. Climbing down from Rin’s back and gathering snow was heavy enough work. Her legs felt like lead weights.
Rin shook out her long hair, still damp but cleared of its crown of snow, and bound it into a single plait. Where her dwarven cloak didn’t cover it, her striped coat was matted from the wet. “We are being blown backward a pace for every two steps forward. I believe it is growing worse by the hour.”
“I am afraid you are right,” Edynn said. “We must risk flying through the storm.”
“Is that wise, Mother?” Serafina asked.
“I think it’s worth the try. It’s daylight. We’ll never be stronger than we are at this moment. Every night we spend in this weather is depleting to us. We could freeze in our sleep.”
“This is our enemy’s intention,” Teryn stated.
“I am sure you are right,” Edynn said. “That is why we must take the greater risk and escape from here. If we can get a purchase on the air we can climb above the clouds. Once there we will be able to see our way again.”
“Well, then why not?” Lakanta asked. Edynn turned to her.
“Because it is not a certainty that the spell will hold. One slip, and one of us can plunge to her death, and the others would never know it until we landed again. It will be horribly cold, much worse than anything we have experienced before. The storm clouds themselves will be enough to freeze us to death, and we have to go through them. There’s no going around them. They could stretch for a hundred miles in every direction. I am in favor of going before we are too tired.”
Tildi trembled at the idea of freezing or falling, but she took one look at the snow falling inches from them. “If we have a chance, I would take it,” she said.
“We could die trying,” Edynn warned them. “The winds could drag us back to earth.”
Tildi swallowed deeply. “Then they do. It’ll be a fast end, then.”
“Much more preferable,” Lakanta said. “If there’s one thing in life I don’t want, it’s a long, painful demise.”
“Lakanta!” Serafina exclaimed, shocked. The peddler grinned at her.
“I agree with Tildi,” Rin said, rescuing the discussion, though she hid a smile. “It’s much faster than trudging our way through the drifts. One way or another, we could die. Better to take the initiative again. This thief must not direct our lives.”
Morag, on guard at the edge of the overhang, plodded over to Teryn with a flat brown object in his hands and a puzzled expression on his misshapen face. Before the captain could examine it, Lakanta beamed at him and raced out into the storm. She returned with a large woven basket covered by a bright-colored cloth.
“Luncheon, everyone,” she said, setting down her burden against the wall. She shook snow off the cloth and laid it on the floor. From the basket she took earthenware platters edged with gold. They were filled with palm-sized, golden pastries. Steam rose, bringing with it a savory aroma. Tildi took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure. “Pies, ham and egg, by the look of them. Simple but filling. Ah, wine! May all creation bless them and their halls of stone. I think what our friend’s got there is the desserts. Tuck in, now.”
“They have been listening to us,” Teryn said, eyeing the walls distrustfully, as she passed food around to the others.
“In that case,” Edynn said, lifting her glass and enjoying the contrast of the brilliant red wine against the cold whiteness of the snow, “thanks again to our hosts.”
“They may not welcome our presence,” Rin said, “but they will facilitate our departure.”
Tildi was surprised at how hungry she was. She had never had to travel so far during winter, and found it absolutely exhausting. Teryn and Morag took charge of the remaining food. They exchanged grim looks, which Tildi understood to mean should the thin times continue, they did not want to risk being caught without provisions again.
“The wind is coming directly from the quarter we wish to go toward,” Serafina said, pointing at the gold dot on the map. “If we fly into its teeth, we could use the power to climb higher faster.”
“Wouldn’t it be safer to go with our backs to it?” Teryn asked.
“What does it profit to delay?” Rin asked, swirling her cloak around
and fastening it over her shoulders and withers. “Let us try something. I’m tired of not seeing the sun.”
Tildi recited the spell over her hooves and hoped for the best. They rode out into a solid mass of whiteness. On Edynn’s signal, Rin kicked off from the ground, scattering a mass of snow around her, and cantered upward. Tildi peered over her shoulder. Ice crystals stung her eyes, but she didn’t dare hide her face. She willed Rin to stay airborne.
The others disappeared in behind the blizzard’s curtain. Tildi was chilled to the bone in the first few yards. There was no way to see how far up they were. She worried they would bump into the surrounding cliffs. Once Rin’s hooves touched the stone, the spell would break. If they were not solidly on the ground, they could fall off. No one would see them.
Her face and hands stiffened painfully with ice. She tried to pay no attention to anything except the feeling of Rin’s strong muscles under her as the centaur reached higher and higher. Snow mounded up so thickly upon them that Tildi had to clear her face to breathe. Every breath was a struggle. The frigid air hurt her lungs. The crystals banging into her skin felt like needles. She thought it was impossible to feel any colder, but it got worse the higher they went.
A gust of wind hit them head-on, and Rin stumbled. Her head went down, and they fell, turning head over heels. Tildi shrieked, clinging to Rin’s cloak. Her hands were so numb. She thought she would lose her grip. Somehow she kept hold. Her legs flapped in the wind like a tattered rag on a fence. The centaur threw her head back and struggled with all six limbs to right herself. Tildi’s stomach felt as if it had been left behind. Suddenly, she felt a thud. Rin paused, one foot raised. She scrabbled with her other hooves for purchase in the air. Tildi recited the charm to herself. Suddenly, they were running again.
Rin turned to look at Tildi. Snow decorated her long, dark lashes with diamonds. “Never say a princess of the Windmanes ever gave up a race! Let us see if we can beat the others to the sun!”
Tildi put her head down against Rin’s neck and felt her surge strongly upward. Her ears burned with cold, but she heard a faint sound over the roar of the wind. Higher and higher they galloped. The pellets of frozen snow became sleet, then the sleet thinned into a freezing mist that seemed to surround them forever.
“Now!” Rin cried. Suddenly the mist broke around them, and they
headed upward into blue, blue sky. The wind died away. The clouds beneath Rin’s hooves looked like a dark gray quilt. She tilted her head back, pushing her hood off onto her shoulders. The snow and ice began to melt off in sheets of droplets. Rin sighed. “Ah, the sun.”
As the circulation returned to her limbs, Tildi looked around her. The noise she had heard was Teryn. The captain cantered over the tops of the slate-gray clouds waving her sword in triumph. Her cheeks were pink and her snapping blue eyes aglow with triumph.
“Rabantae!” she cried. “Rabantae! Your enemies cannot defeat you!” Morag still looked frozen, galloping in her wake.
Lakanta surfaced, her purple hood and the perked ears of her horse shedding snow as they emerged. The little peddler broke into a wide smile, and she waved to Rin and Tildi as she rode toward them. “The best part of that journey was the ending, my friends. Where are the others?”
They waited anxiously until a bank of clouds half a mile distant began to roil and bubble like stew in a pot. At last, the mist broke apart. Serafina, her head nearly down on her mare’s neck, cantered upward, pulling the reins of her mother’s steed. Edynn was holding fast to the saddlebow with one hand, and her staff with the other. The jewel in the tip was gleaming dimly.
Her hood had fallen back. She looked exhausted, but she was otherwise unscathed.
“Good to see you, my friends,” Edynn shouted hoarsely, her long white hair gleaming with ice.
“You, too!” Rin shouted, riding over to touch hands with the two wizardesses. Serafina unbent enough to clasp Tildi’s hand with her cold fingers. “What an adventure! I shall have much to brag about at our next festival!”
Color returned to their faces swiftly under the warmth of the sun. Edynn pointed upward with her staff, and the rest followed her as she rode higher and higher. Tildi looked down. She was stunned to see what a small area was covered by the unnatural winter storm. It seemed to lap at the edges of the mountains that contained it like an overfull bathtub, but extended no farther. She felt in her pouch for the precious leaf, which she had wrapped well against the weather. It was dry and unscathed. She gave a sigh of relief.
Teryn sheathed her sword and produced her map. Edynn looked for the golden dot, moving to the northeast. She pointed her staff over the backs of the next range of mountains. “That way, my friends.”
With a deferential nod, Teryn took point, spurring her horse. Rin fell into the pace behind her, and the others spread out at her sides.
Tildi glanced back. The storm seemed to be trying to follow them. The gray clouds crawled in their wake for a while, but appeared to collapse back into the ravine, too weak to follow farther.
“It will dissipate soon,” Edynn told her. “We are free. Let us seek our quarry.”