A Cavern Of Black Ice Part 3

Marafice One EyeSo the Halfman is gone?""Yes, and G.o.d and the devil help him if he ever returns.""Are you sure he murdered Hood?""Do not question me like one of your flunkies, Surlord. I know what I saw. Seven dead men cannot slit a live one's throat."Penthero Iss studied the Protector General of the Rive Watch carefully as they walked side by side in the black limestone vault below the Cask. Something would have to be done about his eye. He had been back only one full day, yet already the whispers had started. Marafice One Eye, they called him now. It was not a sight to warm a mother's heart; the spur he had fallen on had punctured his left eyeball and raised great welts of flesh in a sunburst around the socket. Little doctoring had been done, and Iss suspected that the Knife had simply plucked out the deflated eyeball, pressed his fist into the cavity to staunch the bleeding, doused the entire thing with alcohol, and then got thoroughly and disgustingly drunk. Iss smiled faintly as he stepped into shadow. This would certainly add to the Knife's reputation. The Protector General of the Rive Watch might become a legend yet.Marafice Eye had returned from Ganmiddich alone, telling a tale of how Asarhia had blasted his sept with sorcery in the slate fields below Ganmiddich Pa.s.s. All the sept had died, their spines snapped like sticks, their ribs smashed to pieces and driven like nails into their hearts. Marafice Eye claimed that although he was flung with equal force to the others, the soft body of one his brothers-in-the-watch broke his fall. Regrettably, that brother's boots had been kitted with steel spurs."I will not be sent on any more of your petty errands, Surlord. If you want that cursed daughter of yours brought back find another fool to do it."Penthero Iss nodded. It was obvious now that no one could get near Asarhia until she reached. Better to wait until it was done and collect her then. Besides, he needed his Knife here, with him. "You know the Master of Ille Glaive has doubled the number of his Tear Guard, and has turned no Forsworn from his gates all winter?"The Knife grunted. "He swells his numbers, as all the Mountain Cities do. The clanholds at war is a tempting target to one and all.""No doubt. But if anyone is going to make first claim upon the southern clans, it will be the armies and grangelords of Spire Vanis. Not the Master of the City on the Lake.""There is good land beyond the Bitter Hills. Swift rivers. Fine grazing. Roundhouses with proper battlements and defenses, not like those stone t.u.r.ds they build up north."So the Knife had liked what he had seen of Ganmiddich. Perhaps the journey north hadn't been an utter failure after all. Penthero Iss came to a halt by a limestone column carved with the image of a three-headed warhorse impaled upon a spire and turned to look the Knife in his one remaining eye. "A dozen grangelords are ma.s.sing armies as we speak. Lord of the Straw Granges, Lord of Almsgate, and the Lady of the East Granges and her son the Whitehog are just a few who have been calling their hideclads to arms. They see the time coming when they will ride north and claim portions of the clanholds for themselves.""Lord of the Straw Granges! That fool couldn't p.i.s.s out of his own bed, let alone lead an army north." Marafice Eye punched the column with the heel of his hand. "And as for that tub of lard Ballon Troak, who now styles himself Lord of Almsgate..." Words failed the Knife, and he punched the column again. "I'd sooner follow the b.i.t.c.h of the East Granges into battle. At least she knows how to ride a man then leave him for dead."Penthero Iss smiled thinly. Marafice Eye's a.s.sessment of the three grangelords might be crude, but it was entirely true. He was clever in low ways, the Knife. It was easy to forget that. "Whatever their faults may be, meekness isn't one of them. They want land. All the grangelords do. They have sons and fosterlings and b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and nephews, and the cityhold of Spire Vanis is hemmed in by mountains and barren rocks. North is the only way to expand. North, into those fat border clans."Aware that his voice was growing louder, Iss worked to control it. The thick walls of the Blackvault created echoes, and broken bits of his own words floated back. "The world is about to change, Knife. Land will be won and lost. A thousand years ago Haldor Hews rode out with a warhost and claimed the ranging ground south of the Spill and all land west of the Skagway. A thousand years before that Theron Pengaron marched north across the Ranges and founded the city where we stand today. Now another thousand years have pa.s.sed, and it's time to take more. War is coming, make no mistake about it. Houses and reputations will be made. Men Men will be made. Fortunes will be brought home and divided amongst brothers and kin. And the only question that really matters is, Will Spire Vanis move first to claim her portion, or will we wait until it's too late and let the Glaive, the Star, and the Vor take it all?" will be made. Fortunes will be brought home and divided amongst brothers and kin. And the only question that really matters is, Will Spire Vanis move first to claim her portion, or will we wait until it's too late and let the Glaive, the Star, and the Vor take it all?"Iss met eyes with Marafice Eye. "What say you, Knife? It's been a hundred years since an army rode forth from Spire Vanis. The grangelords will raise their own forces and carry their own banners, but one man alone must lead them." He stopped there, knowing he had said enough. It was always better to leave a man enough room to reason things out on his own.Marafice Eye's face was hideous in the candlelight. His missing eye needed st.i.tching, and weeks of white-weather travel had turned his skin to hide. Earlier Iss had detected a limp, and even now, as the Knife stood silent and still, he clearly favored his right leg. When he spoke his voice was harsh. "So you would give me an army, Surlord? Send me to wet-nurse the grangelords and their armies and claim land in the names of their soft-a.r.s.ed sons?"Iss shook his head. "You will ride at the head of all armies. First claims and first plunder will be yours.""Not enough, Surlord. If I wanted land, don't you think I would have armed myself and taken some by now?""But what of your brothers-in-the-watch? Would they turn such an offer down? Clan land and clan plunder would mean riches to them."That made him think. It wasn't as easy to turn down wealth for his sworn brothers as it was for himself. The Knife was deeply loyal to his men. Just this morning, the first thing he had done upon entering the fortress was walk to the Red Forge and tell his brothers-in-the-watch how he had lost eight of their men. Fool that he was, he had brought back all the dead men's weapons, and they had fired up the forge then and there. The mercury-treated metal was cooling even as they spoke. New swords had been cast. The refiring deepened the red taint and set the memories of brothers lost in steel. It was the closest the Rive Watch came to belief. made him think. It wasn't as easy to turn down wealth for his sworn brothers as it was for himself. The Knife was deeply loyal to his men. Just this morning, the first thing he had done upon entering the fortress was walk to the Red Forge and tell his brothers-in-the-watch how he had lost eight of their men. Fool that he was, he had brought back all the dead men's weapons, and they had fired up the forge then and there. The mercury-treated metal was cooling even as they spoke. New swords had been cast. The refiring deepened the red taint and set the memories of brothers lost in steel. It was the closest the Rive Watch came to belief."Ganmiddich is fine land," Iss murmured, echoing the Knife's own words. "They say in spring the hunting is so good that a man just has to ride with his spear sticking out, and elk and deer simply run themselves upon the tip."Marafice Eye snorted. Still, Iss could see the gleam of interest in his one blue eye. "Who would watch the city if the Rive Watch rode to war?"Careful now, Iss reminded himself. "He who leads an army must also raise one. Almstown must be smashed. Able bodies must be recruited and trained. Every man in this city who can can fight must be made to do so. The grangelords can do only so much. They are known and feared only in their granges. You, Knife, are known from Wrathgate to Vaingate and the grangeholds beyond. You could raise an army and a safekeeping force single-handed." fight must be made to do so. The grangelords can do only so much. They are known and feared only in their granges. You, Knife, are known from Wrathgate to Vaingate and the grangeholds beyond. You could raise an army and a safekeeping force single-handed.""The Rive Watch has defended the city and the surlord for twelve hundred years.""The Rive Watch was birthed in war. Thomas Mar forged the first red swords with the blood of his brothers-in-arms. When he and his last twelve men took them up, they wrested the northern pa.s.sage from Ille Glaive."Marafice Eye could not deny it. Nor could he deny that it was the Rive Watch who smashed the city of High Rood, slaying the settlers and masons who had come from the Soft Lands to build a rival to Spire Vanis one hundred leagues to the east. The Rive Watch rode forth when it suited them; both Iss and the Knife knew it. And the only question that now remained was, Would they ride forth with Marafice Eye come spring?Iss needed them. The grangelords and their hideclads were notenough to take on the clans. Oh, they thought thought they were, with their swords of patterned steel and their horses bred as tough and ugly as moose stags, but the Surlord knew differently. Without a hard man behind them, they would crumble as easily as oatcakes in the hands of a child. "What say you, Knife? Will you lead the army north to crush the clans?" they were, with their swords of patterned steel and their horses bred as tough and ugly as moose stags, but the Surlord knew differently. Without a hard man behind them, they would crumble as easily as oatcakes in the hands of a child. "What say you, Knife? Will you lead the army north to crush the clans?""My men will be given first claim on all land?""And t.i.tles of grangelords as soon as roofs are raised over land held in their names."The Knife stroked the dagger at his belt, his small lips pressed so tightly together that it hardly looked as if he had a mouth at all. "There is risk here, Surlord.""Name what else you would have.""Your t.i.tle when you're dead and gone."If the branch of candles lighting the Blackvault had been nearer to the two men, the Knife would have seen Iss' pupils shrink to specks. Always there was someone who wanted his place. It wasn't enough to be surlord, not when any man with land and power could arm himself and unman you. Here, in this very chamber, Connad Hews had been held captive for thirty days of his hundred-day rule. His brother Rannock had stormed the fortress to free him, but he'd come seven hours too late. Trant Gryphon had already put a broadblade through his heart. Hews of the Hundred Days they called him now. And Penthero Iss could name a dozen other surlords who had ruled less than a year.It was a thought that brought him no peace. Quietly he said, "No surlord can name his own successor; you know that as well as any man. I had to seize power from Borhis Horgo. If you want power, you must seize it yourself.""Don't think I haven't thought about it, Surlord." Marafice Eye was suddenly close, his dead socket inches from Iss' face. "I have lost three septs to your daughter. Three septs. One eye. And the skin off my ankle and foot. There's witchery here, and there's more to come-I can smell it like a dog on a b.i.t.c.h. I know you, Penthero Iss, and I know you're clever enough to take the clanholds with or without me, but I also know your interest doesn't end with the clans. You have those pale, drowned-man's hands of yours in meals bloodier than clanmeat. And I don't want to find myself in a position where me and my men are sent forth to battle only to be abandoned when a brighter prize catches your eye."He was so close to the truth, Iss wondered if losing an eye hadn't endowed him with second sight. Clanholds first, Sull second: That had always been the plan. Strike hard while their attention was diverted. Strike hard, claim land for Spire Vanis... and a crown for himself. Surlord wasn't enough. He hadn't come this far, pulled himself up from farmer's son to ruler, spent ten years as a grangelord's fosterling, put to work as a retainer rather than the kin that he was, then another twelve years in the Watch, working his way up, always up, until Borhis Horgo named him Protector General and made him his right hand, to have it all taken away from him by some usurper with a blade. He had worked too hard and planned too long for that.Keeping his face still, he said, "You are crucial to me in all things, Knife. As I rise so do you.""Name me as your successor.""If I did it would mean nothing. A surlord must have the support of the Rive Watch and and the grangelords. If I named you as my successor, the grangelords would laugh at both of us. 'Who do Iss and the Knife think they are,' they would say,'the Spire King and his son?'" the grangelords. If I named you as my successor, the grangelords would laugh at both of us. 'Who do Iss and the Knife think they are,' they would say,'the Spire King and his son?'""They say the Lord of Trance Vor has taken to calling himself the VorKing.""Yes, and they also say his brain is addled with ivysh ivysh and he takes pleasure in little boys." and he takes pleasure in little boys."Marafice Eye sneered. "I want to be named, Surlord. It's my business if the grangelords laugh or plot death behind my back. Today they think of me only as your creature, your Knife Knife. Name me as your successor, and before this war is over I'll make them think again."Iss stepped back from Marafice Eye. He reeked of meat and horses, and he suddenly seemed dangerous in the way that wounded animals were. The journey home had taken eleven days. Eleven days alone with a blind and stinking eye and the memory of eight men's deaths. Iss shivered. He did not like this new and subtle Knife. What he proposed was unheard of-a surlord naming his own own successor-but Iss could understand the Knife's motives and even recognize the sense behind them. successor-but Iss could understand the Knife's motives and even recognize the sense behind them.Marafice Eye was nothing to the grangelords, a cutthroat with a red-tainted sword. He was not born to land as they were; he was a hogbutcher's son who spoke with the words and accent of h.o.a.rgate. While grangelords' sons were learning swordplay in their wind-sheltered courtyards, Marafice Eye was learning to cut the hands off anyone who stole sausages or pork belly from the front of his father's shop. He had joined the Rive Watch when he was fourteen, after his father began to suspect that not all the thieves his son maimed had actually thieved. Marafice Eye would have their hands for just a look look.As far as Iss knew, the Knife had spent his first three years in the Watch being bullied in the usual brutal way. Perhaps it had done him some good: Iss did not know. What he did did know was that by the time the Knife turned seventeen he had won himself the right to wear the red-tainted sword. Marafice Eye, a hog butcher's son from h.o.a.rgate, wearing the red alongside grangelords' b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and third sons. know was that by the time the Knife turned seventeen he had won himself the right to wear the red-tainted sword. Marafice Eye, a hog butcher's son from h.o.a.rgate, wearing the red alongside grangelords' b.a.s.t.a.r.ds and third sons.Iss had always a.s.sumed that the Knife had joined the Rive Watch thinking he would become one of the Lower Watch: those men who were bound without oaths and could not wear the red and patrolled only those parts of the city where no one but the poor and starving lived. Now Iss found himself wondering if ambition hadn't been within the Knife from the start.As Protector General he had risen as high as any baseborn man could. Now, by publicly declaring his intent to become surlord, he sought to take the final step. Oh, he knew the grangelords would be incensed-they'd shake their well-manicured fists and swear they'd never never accept a commoner as a surlord-but that wasn't really the point. Slowly he was going to get them accustomed to the idea. In five years' time what had once seemed so outrageous would have mellowed to plain fact: So accept a commoner as a surlord-but that wasn't really the point. Slowly he was going to get them accustomed to the idea. In five years' time what had once seemed so outrageous would have mellowed to plain fact: So Marafice Eye wants to become surlord... well, even Iss himself thinks him fit for it Marafice Eye wants to become surlord... well, even Iss himself thinks him fit for it.Iss breathed thinly. There was gain here, but danger also. Your t.i.tle when you're dead and gone Your t.i.tle when you're dead and gone, the Knife had said. Yet would he be content to wait that long? It was easy to imagine him seizing control of Mask Fortress, sealing the Cask, and taking his surlord's life. The Rive Watch was his and his alone; if he commanded them to march through the Want in midwinter, they would do it. And yet... The Knife was no fool. He needed legitimacy, and he would not get that by murdering his surlord. He needed time to remake himself as grangelord and warlord, and leading Spire Vanis to victory against the clans would be half of it. Iss' resolve stiffened. Far better to have Marafice Eye close, let him have a vested interest in this war-he would fight better and longer for it-and later, when it was over and done... well, who could say what might become of a general on his long march home? The Northern Territories were about to become an extremely dangerous place.Comforted by that thought, Iss said, "You do know you will have to acquire yourself a grangedom by fair means or foul?"The Knife shrugged. "There's a lot of ugly grangelords' daughters out there." His mouth was too narrow for grinning, but he managed a fair semblance of a leer. "Or mayhap I'll find some old fart willing to foster me, just as you did when you first came to the Vanis. I heard tell that the land you were born to was some sodden piece of farmland on the poor side of the Vor, not some fine castle-held estate."Iss ignored the gibe. Land was land, and his father may have been a farmer, but his great-grandfather had been born Lord of the Sundered Granges. There was a world of difference between Marafice Eye and himself, and if the Knife didn't know that, then he was a fool. No commonborn man had ever ruled Spire Vanis. Never had. Never would.Stepping toward the candle branch, Iss turned so the light lined his shoulders and shone through his fingertips and hair. "Tomorrow I will begin spreading the word that I see you as my natural successor. My word alone cannot make a surlord of you, but I will do what I can to change minds. In return you will form an army for me and lead the Rive Watch and the grangelords north."Marafice Eye nodded. " Tis agreed."Iss looked at the Knife's ruined face and trembled at what he had done.*** The Crouching Maiden crouched in the shadows at the rear of the house. It was a pleasant building, its faded yellow stonework glowing warmly in the noonday sun. The wind-damaged chimney stack leaked smoke near the base, and all the surrounding roof snow had turned black with soot and ash.The door and windows were especially interesting to the maiden, for while first glance showed the usual oak and ba.s.swood frames and rusted iron latches, second and third glances revealed other details tothe eye. The windows were equipped with two sets of shutters, and although the inner ones had been painted in the same dark color as pitch-soaked wood and certainly looked looked like wood from a distance, they had the smooth texture of cast iron. Similarly, the door itself was a great hunk of weathered and peeling oak that apparently hung on two horse-head hinges that were crusted with black rot. Magdalena had been studying the door for quite a while and had come to admire the subtle like wood from a distance, they had the smooth texture of cast iron. Similarly, the door itself was a great hunk of weathered and peeling oak that apparently hung on two horse-head hinges that were crusted with black rot. Magdalena had been studying the door for quite a while and had come to admire the subtle untruth untruth of the thing. It would take more than two rusted pot-iron hinges to support a block of oak a foot thick. of the thing. It would take more than two rusted pot-iron hinges to support a block of oak a foot thick.The thickness of the door was not in question. An hour earlier a young girl with fair hair had stepped from it, revealing the true width of the wood. The girl, whom Magdalena thought to be about seven winters old, had moved no farther than the front step. "It's freezing," she had called to someone inside, "but the sun's shining as if it were spring." A woman's voice had replied, telling her to shut and bar the door before all the heat fell out.Magdalena pursed lips few living had ever kissed. Shut and and bar the door. The Lok farmhouse was built like a fort. Oh, it didn't look it, and the maiden was full of admiration for the person who had modified the original structure in such a way as to fool the casual eye, but the simple fact was that all the entrances and exits could be sealed. It was bar the door. The Lok farmhouse was built like a fort. Oh, it didn't look it, and the maiden was full of admiration for the person who had modified the original structure in such a way as to fool the casual eye, but the simple fact was that all the entrances and exits could be sealed. It was that that fact more than anything said by the roofer Thurlo Pike that made the maiden certain she had found the right place. fact more than anything said by the roofer Thurlo Pike that made the maiden certain she had found the right place."The Lok family will be living in seclusion," Iss had said. "Angus Lok trusts no one with their whereabouts, not even his close-lipped brothers in the Phage."Magdalena knew several a.s.sa.s.sins who refused to take commissions against any man or woman who was believed to be a.s.sociated with a Steep House, as the Phage named their secret lodges. But she had looked deep within herself and found little fear of sorcery or those who wielded it. She had been born in the Cloistered Tower, raised by the green-robed sisters there, and she had known a man once who had sworn she wielded a brand of sorcery all her own. Magdalena bared dry teeth. She had killed the man, of course, but his accusations still tugged at her from the grave. She was the Crouching Maiden; all the power she needed lay within her own two hands.Suddenly uncomfortable with her position in the dogwood that grew beneath the stripped canopy of oldgrowth at the back of the house, Magdalena stood and stretched her legs. Shadows followed her like small children, and although she had little fear of being spotted by anything more troublesome than rabbits and birds, she still moved no closer to the house.Gaining access was going to be a problem. Obviously the women took due care with their own safety, and at night the door and the windows would be barred. Breaking locks and hinges was noisy and troublesome and not the maiden's way. Also, if there were defenses in place on the outside of the house, it was fair to a.s.sume that there would be arms close at hand within. Iss had offered no insight into the characters of the Lok womenfolk, but Magdalena suspected that the mother and oldest daughter would likely know their way around a knife. By all accounts Angus Lok was a swordsman of high order, and it would take a foolish man not to see the sense of pa.s.sing along some small portion of those skills to his daughters and his wife.No. Magdalena shook her head. It would be too dangerous to break into the house and chance being caught in darkness by people who might be armed. It was a risk the Crouching Maiden would not take.a.s.sa.s.sination was all about reducing risk. Those who didn't know about such things a.s.sumed all an a.s.sa.s.sin did was stalk their mark down a dark alley, slit the mark's throat, then flee by some secret route. Truth was, Magdalena had killed only one man in an alleyway, and it had been one of the most dangerous commissions she had ever taken. She had been young then, her fee a mere sparrow's weight in gold, and she hadn't realized how difficult it was to approach an unknown man and simply kill him. This particular man had lived through four other a.s.sa.s.sination attempts, and even though the maiden had approached him quietly and from behind, he had caught wind of her intent even before moonlight found her blade. He was large and brutal and had broken two of her fingers before she finally located his windpipe with her knife. His blood was all over her arms and face, and his cries had alerted people in nearby streets. It had taken all her maiden's skills to return to her safe house undetected.She had since learned to arrange situations more carefully, to use lures and props as means to insinuate herself into others' lives and create little "death plays" where she was playwright, player, and stagehand in one. Take Thurlo Pike: The man had been so taken with thethought of a drug that knocked women senseless, he had walked right into his grave.And that was another thing few gave proper thought to: the arrangement of the bodies later. Not all a.s.sa.s.sinations called for a corpse spread-eagled on a bed. Most called for greater subtlety than that; patrons asked that the means of death be disguised as natural illness, a rogue attack by thieves, an accidental fall into cold water, suicide, or murder by a third party's hand. And quite a number of patrons requested that the corpse be permanently lost, so that no record of death remained.Magdalena stripped off her thin leather gloves and ma.s.saged the deepening chill from her hands. As the Lok girl had said, it was bitterly cold, yet the sun shone with all the absurdity of a king at a beggar's feast. The maiden was sensitive to the cold. She worried about her hands yet could not bring herself to wear thick woolen mitts. Touch was everything to an a.s.sa.s.sin.With a small animal sound, Magdalena turned her attention back to the house. Iss had left all decisions concerning the Lok women's deaths to her, as was proper in such cases, and had asked only for "discretion." This suited the maiden well enough. Whenever she took the trouble of placing herself in a tightly knit community like that of the Three Villages, she preferred to leave blameless once the commission was over and done. Thurlo Pike's death would actually help her in this regard, as it was quite possible that blame would fall upon him. If indeed there was blame to portion out.Magdalena still hadn't made a decision about that yet. She might make the deaths look like an accident.Slowly she began to work her way around the side of the house, moving in a wide-turning circle around farm buildings, stone pens, rusted plow bits, a covered well, a grove of wintered-withered apple trees, and a retaining ward built in the crease where the slope of a neighboring hillside met level ground.The front entrance was not well used; the maiden saw that straightaway. Not one pair of footsteps were stamped upon the path, and a wedge of drifted snow lay undisturbed against the door. No one ever came or went this way, and Magdalena suspected that the door was sealed permanently closed. She saw no evidence to suggest this, but she had seen enough of the farmhouse defenses for her mind to work in the same way as the person who had constructed them. A second door was an unnecessary risk; far better to board it up and perhaps the front windows as well and so leave only the back of the house vulnerable to invasion.Magdalena suppressed the cold wave of curiosity that rose with her. Why Angus Lok chose to keep his family in protected seclusion was not her affair. He feared something something, that she knew, and the fact that she was here now, an a.s.sa.s.sin crouching in the shadows at the side his house, was proof that he feared correctly... but nowhere near deeply enough.She studied the door, its frame, jamb, and pitch weatherproof for only a minute longer before heading back to the woods. It was her last night working at Drover Jack's, and she saw no reason to be late. She had worked under many taskmasters in her time, and Gull Moler was kinder than most. The fact that he had fallen a little in love with her was reason enough to be moving on.Tomorrow. She would leave the Three Villages tomorrow, under cover of darkness, once her commission here was done. She had made her decision about the deaths: By the time she had finished with the bodies it would look as if a terrible tragedy had taken place.Fire was always good for that.

FIFTY-FOUR.

The Hollow RiverThe wind howled as the Sull warriors took their axes to the ice. Great bear-shaped Mai Naysayer put the full force of his body behind each blow, sending a battery of sharp white splinters into the air. Ark Veinsplitter worked on the dimple holes he had created, chipping away at weak points, thaw edges, and cracks. The river ice smelled of belowground places, of pine roots and iron ore and cooled magma. It rang like a great and ancient bell as the Naysayer's pick found its heart.Raif was standing on a raised bank that was heavily forested with stick-thin black spruce. Above him towered the ma.s.sive, glaciated west face of Mount Flood. Boulders as big as barns rose above the snow cover at the mountain's base, towering over fields of rubble and dead, frost-riven trees. All surrounding land sloped down toward the river in a great misshapen bowl. Rock walls plunged beneath the surface, sheer as cliffs. A frozen waterfall hung like a monstrous white chandelier above a bend in the river's course, and countless dry streambeds funneled wind along the ice.The Hollow River itself ran through a granite canyon and into the maze of knife-edge ridges that formed the mountain's skirt. Raif raised his bandaged fingers to his face and blew on them. From where he stood by the horses, the river looked like a sea of blue gla.s.s.It had taken them three days of hard travel to reach here, as the Naysayer had promised it would. The two Sull warriors chose paths Raif would never have dared to take: across fields of loose shale, past seepage meadows bogged with melt holes, and over lakes fast with ice.Always they trusted their horses. Even when neither Ark nor the Naysayer was riding, they let the blue and the gray lead the way. Ash had ridden a Sull horse before, and it was easy for her to hand her stallion the reins and allow it the freedom to choose its own path. Raif found himself constantly pulling his stallion back the first day, the reins held so tightly around his wrists that for once his fingers went numb from lack of blood, not cold. The state of his hands did not help, as it was difficult to fine-guide a horse without fingers on the reins.The pain was excruciating. Raif had dreams that his hands had been skinned, and turned and sweated in his blankets as his dream-self watched Death and her creatures pick the last sc.r.a.ps of meat from his bones. Raif woke shivering and filled with fear. Once he had torn off the bandages, just to see for himself that there was living flesh beneath. Straightaway he wished he hadn't. There was was living flesh, pink flesh lying beneath a black-and-red jelly of blisters and cast skin, but the sight was almost as bad as the pared fingers in his dreams, and he couldn't get the Naysayer to rebandage them quickly enough. living flesh, pink flesh lying beneath a black-and-red jelly of blisters and cast skin, but the sight was almost as bad as the pared fingers in his dreams, and he couldn't get the Naysayer to rebandage them quickly enough.Mai Naysayer saw nothing in the blistered, shedding skin to be alarmed about. In one of the few long speeches Raif had ever heard him speak in Common, he said, "They will work again, I promise you that. I've seen worse in my time and doubtless caused worse, too. This hand here will be capable of holding a drawn bow, and this finger here able to hold and release a string at tension. They will not look pretty, and they'll be frost shy from now on and must be tended like newborns in the cold, but that is the price you pay for killing wolves."It did not occur to Raif until much later that Mai Naysayer had no way of knowing that the bow was Raif's first-chosen weapon and had simply a.s.sumed it was so.Both warriors carried fine recurve longbows made of horn and sinew, with lacquered risers and wet-spun string. The Naysayer hunted on foot as he traveled alongside the packhorse and managed to flush a few ptarmigan and marten from their lairs. Whenever he made a kill, he plucked the lacquered arrow shaft from the carca.s.s, slipped it back into his case, and then drained the blood into a lacquered bowl and served it, still steaming, to Ash.Ash remained weak, but she insisted on walking for increasingly longer periods each day. The Naysayer had given her a coat that was so long it dragged behind her as she tramped through the snow. It was athing of alien beauty, combining lynx fur and woven fabric in a way that Raif had never seen before. Ash refused to have it cut to fit her and cinched a leather belt around her waist to raise the hem by less destructive means. She looked, Raif had to admit, just as he imagined a Sull princess would look: tall, pale, and covered from head to toe in the silvery pelts of predatory beasts.Ark Veinsplitter had offered gifts to Raif: mitts made from flying squirrel pelts that had the softest, richest fur Raif had ever touched, a hood of wolverine fur that shed even breath ice with just a shrug, and a padded inner coat that was woven from lamb's wool and stuffed with shredded silk. Raif had refused them. He had no wish to be further beholden to the Sull.Ark Veinsplitter had nodded his head at the refusal and said something that Raif did not understand. "To Sull, a gift is given in the offering, not the accepting, and I will hold them for you until such a time comes when you need them, or the Sender of Storms claims my soul."Raif had thought a lot about that over the past three days. At first he had a.s.sumed it was just a way for the Sull to claim a debt even when a proffered gift had been refused, yet now he thought differently. Ark Veinsplitter had separated the mitts, hood, and inner coat from his other possessions and made a parcel of them, which he placed in the bottom of his least-used pack. And Raif believed with growing certainty that the parcel would be opened again only on his his say. say.The Sull were a different race. They thought in different ways. Raif found himself thinking back to what Angus had said about them, how it had taken Mors Stormyielder fourteen years to breed a horse to repay a debt. He understood that now. It was quite possible that Ark Veinsplitter would carry that package with him, unopened, until the day he died."We're through!" The cry came from Ark Veinsplitter, and it broke through Raif's thoughts like a a whip cracked against his cheek. Both he and Ash looked down to the riverbank where the two Sull warriors continued to chip at the ice. Ark Veinsplitter's bent back was turned toward them. They waited, but he said no more. whip cracked against his cheek. Both he and Ash looked down to the riverbank where the two Sull warriors continued to chip at the ice. Ark Veinsplitter's bent back was turned toward them. They waited, but he said no more.Raif glanced at Ash. "Are you ready?""Yes." Her gray eyes flickered with snowlight as she spoke. "It's time this was over and done."He let her walk ahead of him to the bank, glad for a few momentsto settle his mind in place. He waited to feel fear, expected expected to feel fear, but there was nothing but emptiness inside him. Their journey was coming to an end. to feel fear, but there was nothing but emptiness inside him. Their journey was coming to an end.Readying himself as he walked, he pulled on his gloves and packed the s.p.a.ces between his fingers with dried moss as the Naysayer had taught him. He had no weapon or guidestone to weigh his belt, yet he tugged on the buckle to check its hold as if it were loaded down with gear. The hard edges of his dead man's cloak curled in the wind as he approached the river's edge.The two warriors stepped back, their faces reddened by exertion, their axes sparkling with ice. No one spoke. Ash shivered as she looked down upon the hole they had created. The ice was nearly two feet thick, carpeted by an uneven layer of dry snow. The hole was roughly circular in shape, its blue and jagged edges creating a trap for the light. Score lines caused by ax strokes drew Raif's gaze down through the shadowless rim to the utter darkness at its center. It was impossible to see the riverbed or anything else that lay beyond."How deep is it?" Ash's voice was a whisper."Let us see." Ark Veinsplitter unhooked the coil of rope that was attached to his belt by a white metal dog hook. Swiftly he fed the weighted end of the rope into the hole and let it run through his half-closed fist until it halted of its own accord. He pulled up close to fifteen feet of rope. "It will be deeper near the middle."Raif looked out across the ice. "I'll go first."The two warriors exchanged a glance. Ark said, "Blood must be spilt before you enter. This is a place of sacrifice to the Sull." Almost instantly the warrior's letting knife appeared in his hand, the silver chain that linked the crosshilt to his belt chiming softly like struck gla.s.s. With his free hand he pulled back his sleeve and bared his fore arm.Raif's hand shot out to stop him. "No. If anyone must pay a toll for this journey, it will be me." Biting the end of his glove, he stripped it off. "Here. Cut the wrist."Muscles in Ark Veinsplitter's face tightened. When he spoke his voice was dangerously low. "Your blood is not Sull blood. It comes at a cheaper price.""That may be so, Far Rider, but Ash and I will be the ones who make this journey, not you.""I don't understand," Ash said. "I thought-""Nay, Ash March," the Naysayer said, his gruff voice almost gentle. "We travel with you only this far.""But you will wait for us?" Ash glanced from Raif to Ark to the Naysayer. The fear in her voice was barely masked. "You will will wait for us?" wait for us?"The Naysayer's ice blue eyes held hers without blinking. "We cannot stay here, Ash March. We must pay a toll for the pa.s.sage we have opened and ride north before moonlight strikes the ice. We are Far Riders. Kith Ma.s.so Kith Ma.s.so is no place for us." is no place for us."Ash looked at him, the plea slowly slipping from her face. After a long moment she matched his unblinking gaze. "So be it."Raif held his face still as he listened to her speak. The hollow place inside him ached for her, and he wanted nothing more than to lift her from the ice and crush her against his chest. Instead he thrust his wrist toward Ark Veinsplitter. "Cut it."The Sull warrior's eyes darkened, and Raif saw himself reflected in the black oil of his irises. Slowly Ark raised the letting knife to his mouth and breathed upon the razor-thin edge. His breath condensed upon the metal, then cooled to form a rime of ice. With a circle of wool dyed midnight blue, he wiped the edge. That done, he grasped Raif's forearm and jabbed his fingers hard into the flesh. Raif could feel him searching for, and finding, veins. With a movement so fast it could not be followed with the eye, Ark Veinsplitter slashed Raif s wrist.Raif felt the shock of cold metal, but no pain. Blood oozed quickly to the surface, rolling in a wide band along his wrist.Only when the first red drops landed in the snow above the river's surface did the Sull warrior release his grip. "There. Clan blood has been spilt upon Sull ice. Let us hope for all our sakes that this angers no G.o.ds." Ark Veinsplitter turned and made his way to his horse.Raif breathed deeply and then jammed his knuckles into the wound. The pain in both his hands was blinding, and it made him wonder if he'd lost his mind. What had he been thinking, letting Ark Veinsplitter spill his blood? He counted seconds as he continued to press against the cut vein. Truth was, he knew knew what he had been thinking; it just didn't make much sense, that was all. He didn't want the Sull paying for his journey. Not this part, the last part, after he and Ash had come this far. what he had been thinking; it just didn't make much sense, that was all. He didn't want the Sull paying for his journey. Not this part, the last part, after he and Ash had come this far."Here."Raif looked up. Mai Naysayer held something out for him to take: a broad leaf, deep green in color and covered with rough hairs. Recognizing it for what it was and what it did, Raif thanked the Naysayer and took it from him. Bracing himself, he laid the leaf flat in his palm and then pressed it against the cut vein. Comfrey or, as some called it, wound heal: Clans used it like the Sull to stop the bleeding of small wounds.As the Naysayer walked a small distance to retrieve the pack he had left on the bank, Ash turned to Raif. "You knew they wouldn't come under the ice with us." It was not a question."I thought they wouldn't, but I wasn't sure until I saw their faces when we first reached here this morning." Raif adjusted his grip on the comfrey leaf; a thin trail of blood was still leaking from the wound. "They know this place, Ash. I think-" He stopped himself before the words they even fear it they even fear it left his lips. left his lips."You think what?"He shrugged. "It means something to them, that's all."Ash gave him a look that made him feel like a liar. She was so pale and thin, he wondered how she stood against the wind. After a moment she nodded toward his wrist and said, "He cut you pretty deeply, didn't he?"Raif couldn't deny it. "It'll heal," was all he said.As if by unspoken agreement, the two Sull warriors picked that moment to converge upon the hole in the ice. Both held packs in their hand, and Ark Veinsplitter held a length of stout rope woven from flax that Raif had seen him use to raise the tent. The dark-eyed warrior handed his pack to the Naysayer. No words pa.s.sed between the two men, yet Raif knew and understood what was happening. It shamed him.The Naysayer held out both packs toward Ash. "Here, Ash March, Foundling, I offer you these gifts for the journey. There is a stone lamp and what oil we can spare, food and blankets and herbs to ward off sickness, and other such things as one .who travels beneath ice might need."Ash's eyes filled with tears as the great bear-size warrior spoke. Witha small movement she tugged down her hood so he could see her face wholly. When she spoke her words were as formal as his, and the wind dried her tears before they fell. "I thank you, Mai Naysayer, Son of the Sull and chosen Far Rider, for these gifts that you have given. Without them I would have neither light nor warmth along the way. You have saved my life, yet claimed no debt, and for that I owe you, and give you, a piece of my heart. May all the moons you travel beneath be full ones.The Naysayer stood still, his ice eyes unblinking, his back straight as a black spruce, his lynx hood shedding snow, and studied Ash without speaking. His face looked carved from stone. After a moment he laid both packages in the snow, then bowed so low to Ash that the crown of his hood touched river ice. He bowed again to Raif and then walked away, and Raif knew he would not come back.Ark Veinsplitter knelt on the river surface and hammered an iron stake into sh.o.r.e-fast ice three feet from the hole. Raif watched his bent back, feeling nothing but shame. The Sull warrior had not wanted his gifts refused a second time, so he had pa.s.sed them to his ha.s.s ha.s.s, who had given them to Ash."There. It is done." Ark secured the rope to the fixed stake and then tested its strength by tugging on it. "It will hold well enough."Raif pushed his mitt over his hand, covering the b.l.o.o.d.y bandage and the letting wound, and stepped forward. Ark Veinsplitter's eyes met his. Raif knew it wasn't his place to thank the Sull warrior for the gifts he had given to another, so he said only, "Thank you for heeding my call in the darkness."Ark Veinsplitter nodded slowly, the flat plains of muscle on his face suddenly looking worn. "It was Mai who gave the word to aid you."'That may be so, but I've only known Mai Naysayer to give one answer to any question he is asked." Raif held his gaze firm, and both men stood in silence, feet apart, the wind blowing their clothes separate ways. After a moment Raif held out his hand. "I thank you, Ark Veinsplitter, for asking the right question."The Sull warrior clasped Raif's arm, his face grave. "Do not thank me for something we both may come to regret later, Raif Sevrance of No Clan. Thank me instead for the use of my horse, and my tent, and my rope." He smiled roughly. "Perhaps we can both live with that."Raif nodded. He found he could not speak.Together he and Ark Veinsplitter secured the rope around his chest. The Sull warrior rechecked all knots and took care to thread the rope in such a way that it removed all possible strain from Raif's hands during the drop. Fifteen feet was not a great drop, but a bad landing on hard rock could break bones. Raif had walked on dry riverbeds before, but he had no idea what he would find beneath Kith Ma.s.so's Kith Ma.s.so's frozen crust. frozen crust.Ark Veinsplitter pinned Raif's arms flat against the ice as Raif eased his legs and lower body into the hole. Muscles bunched beneath the Sull warrior's lynx coat as he transferred Raif's weight to the rope. Raif thought he was ready for the pain as his gloved hands closed around the flax, but he wasn't. Streaks of white fire shot up his arms to his heart. The letting wound on his wrist suddenly seemed deep enough to sever his hand, and as his fingers sprang from the rope in fear, his body dropped.The world he entered was as cool and still as a guidehouse. The blue glow of icelight closed around his body, like water around a sinking stone. All was quiet. Raif heard his own heart beating. The sharp tang of air trapped beneath ice stole into his nose and mouth. Above him, Ark Veinsplitter lowered the rope. The flax ticked with strain, the free swinging of Raif's body making it saw against the ice edge. Wincing, Raif forced both hands around the rope and guided his body down.His feet hit bottom with a jolt. Quickly he worked himself free of the makeshift hoist and called for Ark to pull it back. As the rope disappeared above his head, Raif pressed his mitted hands against his jaw. He hated being weak. Hearing the soft catch of Ash's voice above him, he turned his attention to the icy blue tunnel that surrounded him. He did not want to hear what words pa.s.sed between her and Ark Veinsplitter.To his left, the granite bank glittered with lenses of ice. Flecks of iron ore shone darkly within the wall like pieces of ossified bone. Beneath his feet the riverbed was a rough valley of rock, frozen pools, and desiccated litter of fish carca.s.ses and caribou antlers, pine needles and algae. A A white sc.u.m of frosted minerals lay over everything; salts and rock sill condensed as the river drained. Above it all stretched the ice ceiling. It was like nothing Raif had ever seen before: warped, folded, jagged and then smooth like a wall of transparent rock. Light and color white sc.u.m of frosted minerals lay over everything; salts and rock sill condensed as the river drained. Above it all stretched the ice ceiling. It was like nothing Raif had ever seen before: warped, folded, jagged and then smooth like a wall of transparent rock. Light and color poured poured from it, creating a waterfall of sea greens and silver grays and dark midnight blues. Raif felt as if he were standing in the underbelly of a glacier, in the place where ice and shadow met. from it, creating a waterfall of sea greens and silver grays and dark midnight blues. Raif felt as if he were standing in the underbelly of a glacier, in the place where ice and shadow met.Dry matter crunched beneath his boots as he stepped aside to make way for Ash's descent. To either side of him darkness pooled beyond the light.Ash came down smoothly, both hands feeding rope. Raif caught her before she hit the riverbed and pulled her free of the hoist. She was shivering. The blue light reflecting off her face looked like moonlight. When he pulled his hand free of her waist, she made a small movement as if to hold it there. As they waited for Ark Veinsplitter to lower the two packs, Raif watched Ash closely. Since the night of the wolves she had not lapsed into unconsciousness, but he didn't know if she was still fighting the voices. By unspoken agreement, neither had mentioned them in front of the Sull.By the time the packs were lowered, Raif could already perceive a darkening above the ice. This day was the shortest winter had shown him so far. He wondered what Drey and Effie would be doing now, then closed the thought off from his mind."You will need to remember this place," Ark Veinsplitter called as he let the rope drop for the final time. "This may be your only way out, save for picking a new hole in the ice."Raif nodded; he had already thought of that."From here you head upriver until you come upon the tributary that branches west. That may be frozen, too." Ark's ice-tanned face finally appeared above them. "You must take due care, Raif Sevrance of No Clan and Ash March, Foundling. The Naysayer says the riding moon will bring no thaw, but that which is cold and brittle may collapse.""Then we will dance ice," Ash said, looking up at him, "as all your horses do."Raif thought perhaps the Sull warrior would smile, but his lips barely stretched against his teeth. "The Naysayer and I head north. We will leave such a trail as can be followed by a clansman, if you choose to take our path." He left them then, with no word of farewell save the sound of his footsteps beating a cold rhythm upon the ice."Come," Raif said when all was still. "We need to use the last hour of daylight as best we can." He picked up both packs from the floor and slung them over his back. One was a lot heavier than the other, and metal items jingled dully within.Ash did not move or speak. She stood in the circle of diminishing daylight directly below the hole in the ice. Raif did not like the quick manner in which she was breathing. He touched her lightly on the arm. "Let's go," he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. "We've come too far to stop now."Slowly her gaze turned upon him. Her eyes were made brilliant by reflections of ice, and he almost didn't see the fear that shone through them like light from a second, weaker source. "They know I'm here," she said. "They know... and terror grows within them."Raif found himself watching the ice ceiling as they walked. The ma.s.s of frozen and suspended water weighed upon his thoughts. It was a slice of the river, frozen from the surface down; smooth above, where he could no longer see; and roughly coved below, like the roof of a cave. The ice was thickest nearest the bank, where frozen white piles rested against granite and cantilevered the great weight of ice. Raif had already decided that he and Ash were safer close to the bank, yet as darkness fell and the air around them cooled, the ice supports began to creak and rumble like a roundhouse in a storm.Ash carried the soapstone lamp the Naysayer had given her, cupping it in both hands for warmth. Raif wasn't sure what kind of oil fueled it, for it burned with a silver flame and trailed the sweet, musky, not-quite-human odor of whale yeast in its smoke. The single flame produced was housed in a protective guard of mica, but it was more than enough to light the way."Do you think Mai and Ark know what I am?"Raif was surprised to hear Ash speak. She had been silent since she had lit the lamp. Switching his gaze from the blue gla.s.s of the ice ceiling to her face, he said, "Perhaps. Tem once told me that the Sull know more than any other race. He said they pa.s.s knowledge from generation to generation and some even inherit memories, like clans-folk inherit the will to fight."Ash hugged the lamp closer. Above the cuff of her mitt, Raif could see the white stick of bone and flesh that was her wrist. "I think Mai gave me something that first night to make the voices go away.""A warding, like the one Heritas Cant set?""No. Something different... I can't explain." She shrugged. "It's gone now."Raif glanced into the tunnel of shadows ahead. Even in the far distance light from the lamp created a corona of blue light around the ice. "Perhaps we should stop here for the night. Build a camp. Sleep."Ash shook her head even before he had finished speaking. "No. They'd have me the moment I shut my eyes. They're desperate now. And so close..." She swallowed. "So close I can smell them."A spark of anger flared within Raif as she spoke. Suddenly he hated everyone who had helped her come this far: Ark Veinsplitter and Mai Naysayer, Heritas Cant, even Angus. None of them were clan. No clansman would have forced a sick girl to travel north in full winter. Tern Sevrance would have kept her warm by the stove and taken his hammer to any shadows or dark beasts who approached her.Abruptly Raif stopped. Emptying the contents of both packs onto the riverbed, he searched for something to use as a weapon. Amid the pouches of lamp oil, cured salmon, and wax, he found a slender spike of steel the length of his forearm. An ice pick. He weighed it in his hand, forced his fingers around the squared-off b.u.t.t. It would do. It would have to do.Ash frowned at him. "You can't fight what isn't here."Raif thought of a reply but didn't say it. Instead he began scooping the spilled contents back into the packs. Bits of river litter stuck to his mitts like frost, and deep beneath the fur he felt blood trickle along his wrist as the scab that had formed over the letting wound stretched to breaking. When he was done, he slid the pick through his belt. "We'll travel through the night."Hours pa.s.sed in silence. No wind disturbed the air in the tunnel, and the only sound was the shifting of the ice and their own booted feet grinding dried and frozen pine needles to dust. The riverbed rose steadily as they moved upriver, and the ice ceiling grew closer with every step. Raif was constantly aware of the fragile ma.s.s above him. Tons upon tons of frozen water, suspended above his head. After a time it became impossible to walk near the bank, and Raif set a course close to the river's middle, where the ice crust was at its thinnest.From time to time the dark, gaping holes of tributaries breached the granite wall of the bank. Most channels were choked with clumps of gray ice that spilled out onto the riverbed in rubble heaps several feet high. Pools of frozen water lying flat beneath the rubble told of late-season thaws and water running after after the channel had hard-froze. Raif dismissed each channel as he came upon it; the one he was looking for had to run from the west and be clear enough to let a man and woman pa.s.s. the channel had hard-froze. Raif dismissed each channel as he came upon it; the one he was looking for had to run from the west and be clear enough to let a man and woman pa.s.s.The pa.s.sage of time was difficult to gauge. Raif felt his body growing colder and his mind moving slowly from thought to thought. He forced Ash to eat some strips of cured salmon, but he had no stomach for food himself. The air in the drained riverbed was becoming thicker and more condensed. The river itself was shrinking, and soon Raif found himself walking with his back and neck partially bent. The ice crust was so close he could reach up and touch the hard gla.s.sy surface, see the flaw lines and pressure whorls within. Tiny bubbles of trapped air shone like pearls.On and on they walked, following the bends and bow curves of Kith Ma.s.so Kith Ma.s.so as it skirted the mountain's base. Raif watched Ash constantly, finding a dozen excuses to touch her in small una.s.suming ways. Her face was gray and tightly drawn. Too often her eyes were focused in a place he tried to but could not see. At some point she had stripped off her mitts, and her bare hands were now closed around the lamp so tightly it looked as if she were trying to crush it. Her knuckles showed white and jagged like teeth. as it skirted the mountain's base. Raif watched Ash constantly, finding a dozen excuses to touch her in small una.s.suming ways. Her face was gray and tightly drawn. Too often her eyes were focused in a place he tried to but could not see. At some point she had stripped off her mitts, and her bare hands were now closed around the lamp so tightly it looked as if she were trying to crush it. Her knuckles showed white and jagged like teeth.He spoke to her little, and received few responses, yet he feared to do much more. She was fighting the voices, and even Tern's hammer would have proven useless against those.Eventually they entered a stretch of the river where the granite walls were jagged and twisted as if something had been wrenched from them at force. Stone ledges broke through the ice crust. Great piers of black iron rock jutted from the walls, and troughs gouged deep into the riverbed were filled with dark ice. Raif turned his head sharply as a cry that came from nothing human ripped through the tunnel like a blast of cold air. The flame within the soapstone lamp wavered. Ash inhaled sharply. Her eyes met Raif's and she nodded, once. "They draw nearer," she said. "Their world touches ours in this place."Raif closed his eyes. He had used up a lifetime's worth of prayers the night the ice wolves had attacked him, and he knew better than to ask the Stone G.o.ds for more.In silence they continued walking. Ash could no longer stand fully upright, and Raif wondered how long it would be before they'd have to get down on their hands and knees and crawl. Time pa.s.sed. Progress was slow over the warped and concentrated granite that formed the river's floor. Fear grew in Raif slowly, filling the hollow places in his chest. A second cry came: high and terrible, almost beyond hearing. Listening to it, Raif wished he were back on the snow plains, facing wolves. Other sounds followed: hisses and broken whispers and the wet snarls of things with snouts. As he rounded a bend in the river's course, Raif breathed in the faint odor of charred meat and singed hair. When he breathed again it was gone.Noooooooooo.The hairs on Raif's neck p.r.i.c.ked up all at once. Something other other had spoken, yet it reminded him of another time and place. When he realized what it was it made him sick. The Bluddroad. The Bludd women and children. The sound of desperation was the same in both worlds. had spoken, yet it reminded him of another time and place. When he realized what it was it made him sick. The Bluddroad. The Bludd women and children. The sound of desperation was the same in both worlds.With his back bent almost double and his stomach heaving, he almost missed the gash in the far bank. He thought at first it was just shadows, as there was no telltale gleam of ice on the surrounding riverbed, but the darkness ran too deeply, and the surrounding rocks were too flat to cast shadows of any depth."Ash. Bring the lamp." He waited until she reached his side before crossing the riverbed. The river was barely the length of three horses now, and the ice ceiling dipped to chest height in parts. Light in the tunnel dimmed noticeably as Ash crouched to set down the lamp.The gash in the rock was bell shaped, tall as Ash's shoulders, and completely clean of ice. Raif stepped through to check the way. Here the air was different: colder, drier, shot with the smell of iron ore. No ice ceiling stretched overhead, just a barrel curve of rock. The tunnel led west into the mountain, disappearing into darkness so complete, it gave Raif a chill to see it."Raif. Here."Raif backed out of the gash. Ash was crouching by the lamp, her right arm extending outward, her hand flat upon the riverwall."Look."Raif quested for his lore. A raven etched in stone marked the way.

FIFTY-FIVE.

A Cavern of Black IceCa.s.sy Lok woke to the smell of smoke. Beth Beth, came the thought straightaway. She's been up making honey cakes again and forgotten how many she put on the fire She's been up making honey cakes again and forgotten how many she put on the fire. Ca.s.sy huffed in her pillow, determined to go back to sleep. I'm not saving her this time. I don't care how many honey cakes have fallen through the griddle and caught light... and I hope she gets fat from eating the ones that turned out Fat and spotty with big rot holes in her teeth I'm not saving her this time. I don't care how many honey cakes have fallen through the griddle and caught light... and I hope she gets fat from eating the ones that turned out Fat and spotty with big rot holes in her teeth.Ca.s.syclosed her eyes as tightly as she could, then scrunched up her face for good measure. Just this morning she'd caught Beth trying on the good blue dress Father had brought back with him from Ille Glaive. Her Her dress. And she wouldn't have minded much-well, not dress. And she wouldn't have minded much-well, not that that much-if it hadn't been for the fact that Beth was prancing in front of the looking gla.s.s at the time, pretending to be a fine court-bred maiden, nibbling on sweetmeats rolled in gold leaf and sipping wine through a crust of rose-scented ice. For sweetmeats Beth had used hazelnuts coated in cinnamon. For wine she had used plum juice. much-if it hadn't been for the fact that Beth was prancing in front of the looking gla.s.s at the time, pretending to be a fine court-bred maiden, nibbling on sweetmeats rolled in gold leaf and sipping wine through a crust of rose-scented ice. For sweetmeats Beth had used hazelnuts coated in cinnamon. For wine she had used plum juice. Plum juice Plum juice! Ca.s.sy gritted her teeth. And when this fine court bred maiden had found herself caught in the act, the first thing she'd done was twirl around to face her elder sister, holding the cup of plum juice in her hand holding the cup of plum juice in her hand!It didn't bear thinking about. Mother said the stain would come out. And Beth had had spent the rest of the day following her around with a kicked-dog expression on her face. But still. Father had bought her that dress, and it fitted so well, and it was a grown-up dress, withoutany of those silly girlish frills that Father knew she hated, and it didn't really matter that she had nowhere special to wear it until spring. spent the rest of the day following her around with a kicked-dog expression on her face. But still. Father had bought her that dress, and it fitted so well, and it was a grown-up dress, withoutany of those silly girlish frills that Father knew she hated, and it didn't really matter that she had nowhere special to wear it until spring."I'll take you dancing in it when I return from the North, Casilyn Lok," Father had said as he'd handed her the package. "And that's a promise as binding as I've made to any man."Ca.s.syunscrunched her face. Perhaps she'd been a bit harsh on Beth earlier. The smell of burning was growing worse, and if she didn't know better, she'd imagine a whole tray of honey cakes had fallen onto the fire.The chimney chimney. Ca.s.sy sat bolt upright. What if more bricks had caved in and blocked the flue? It was windy enough for it. And the roofer hadn't come today, as he was supposed to, and the whole stack was held up by only a couple of pinewood struts.Quickly and in complete darkness, Ca.s.sy found her slippers and shawl. As she stepped toward the door, a sleepy voice spoke out from the deep shadows at the far side of the room. "Ca.s.sy? Is that you?" Beth.A small shift took place in Ca.s.sy's chest: not fear exactly, but the first stirrings of it. There were were no honey cakes on the fire. "Beth, put your coat and slippers on. Quick now." no honey cakes on the fire. "Beth, put your coat and slippers on. Quick now."Sheets rustled in the darkness. "You're not still mad at me, Ca.s.sy?"Ca.s.syshook her head. Then, realizing her younger sister couldn't see her, she said, "No. Not much," out loud."What's burning?""I think the chimney's caved in.""But-""No buts, Beth. Do as I say." Ca.s.sy was surprised at how sharp her voice sounded. Bare feet thudded onto the floor. More rustling followed. A moment later she felt Beth's shoulders knock against her arm. "Here. Take my hand." Beth's hand was warm and sweaty: She always fell asleep with her fists clenched. Ca.s.sy led her toward the door. "You didn't put anything to cook on the hearth tonight, did you?""No, Ca.s.sy.""Good girl." Ca.s.sy lifted the latch and opened the door. A wave