the
little dog cote, stiff with cold and covered in dirt. Had that
blessed stone of hers in her hand. Rocking back and forth with it,
she was. Made herself so sick she could barely stand." Raina
clicked her tongue. "How she managed not to get eaten by those
wolfhounds the Shanks keep, I'll never know. Orwin feeds them but
twice a week, I swear."
Relaxing his grip on his reins, Raif
guided Shor Gormalin's gelding around a bank of loose shale. His own
anger suddenly didn't seem important anymore. "How's she been
since?"
"Well, that's what I came to warn
you about. She's lost a bit of weight. And she keeps so much to
herself…" Raina's words trailed away as a small figure
stepped out from the roundhouse below.
As Raif and Raina trotted their horses
down into the valley, and Mace Blackhail and his lead riders drew
close to the roundhouse, the figure took hesitant, child-size steps
forward. It was Effie. Her dark auburn hair gave her away. Raif
leaned forward in his saddle. She was so
thin
.
"Just you be careful with her,
Raif Sevrance," Raina Blackhail said, kicking her horse forward.
"You and Drey are all she has."
Raif barely acknowledged what Raina
said. He glanced two riders ahead, where Drey was riding at Orwin
Shank's side. Drey looked back. His fox hood was up again, and the
sky was nearly black, but the expression on his face was clear.
What
has happened to Effie
?
Feeling a stab of unease in his chest,
Raif kicked Shor Gormalin's gelding into a canter and raced along the
file. Drey came seconds behind.
The beaten clay court outside the
roundhouse greatdoor was filling rapidly with people. Some carried
pitch-soaked torches, others smoking racks of charred mutton and
spits of rabbits roasted in their skins. A few brought feed and
blankets for the horses. One figure, Anwyn Bird by the looks of her
round belly, rolled a keg of hearth-warmed beer before her that
belched steam into the freezing air.
Effie stood ahead of everyone, her
shoulders hunched together, shivering and clutching her blue woolen
dress. No one had thought to throw a cloak over her shoulders or push
mitts on her hands. As Raif approached, he saw where his sister's
cheeks had sunk away, leaving little pits beneath her eyes and around
her jaw. His heart ached to see them.
He slid from his horse and ran to her.
Effie took a small step forward. Her grave little face was turned up
toward his, and after a moment she held out her arms and waited to be
taken. Raif scooped her up and brought her to his chest. Pushing her
body against his, he drew her within the folds of his oilskin to
protect her from the cold. She was so light. It was like picking up a
blanket stuffed with straw. Raif hugged her harder, wanting to give
her his heat and his strength.
Then Drey was there, and Effie shifted
in Raif's arms and Raif released her to his brother. Drey's big arms
enveloped Effie completely, and his head came down to hers, and he
kissed her hair and her temples and the bridge of her nose. "It's
all right, little one. We're back now. Raif and I are back."
Effie snuggled against Drey's chest. "I
knew," she said quietly, seriously, glancing from Drey to Raif,
then over to Mace Blackhail, who was busy hefting the saddle from the
roan. "He said you were dead, but I
knew
it wasn't so."
SIX
The Inverted Spire
Ash March twisted the sheets around herself as she
turned in her sleep. Linen spun so smoothly by the old women of
Maker's Isle that it felt as cool as glass rode up between her
thighs, wound around her belly, and coiled about her wrists.
Ash dreamed she was enclosed within a
womb of ice. Blue white light shone on her arms and legs, making them
gleam like smooth metal. The icewall was slick where she had touched
it, skin warmed and dripping. Ice squeaked and cracked as she moved.
Frost fumes filled her mouth like milk.
If she could just push further,
deeper
.
Something shifted. The massive lode of
ice above her juddered, and freezing splinters rained on
little dog cote, stiff with cold and covered in dirt. Had that
blessed stone of hers in her hand. Rocking back and forth with it,
she was. Made herself so sick she could barely stand." Raina
clicked her tongue. "How she managed not to get eaten by those
wolfhounds the Shanks keep, I'll never know. Orwin feeds them but
twice a week, I swear."
Relaxing his grip on his reins, Raif
guided Shor Gormalin's gelding around a bank of loose shale. His own
anger suddenly didn't seem important anymore. "How's she been
since?"
"Well, that's what I came to warn
you about. She's lost a bit of weight. And she keeps so much to
herself…" Raina's words trailed away as a small figure
stepped out from the roundhouse below.
As Raif and Raina trotted their horses
down into the valley, and Mace Blackhail and his lead riders drew
close to the roundhouse, the figure took hesitant, child-size steps
forward. It was Effie. Her dark auburn hair gave her away. Raif
leaned forward in his saddle. She was so
thin
.
"Just you be careful with her,
Raif Sevrance," Raina Blackhail said, kicking her horse forward.
"You and Drey are all she has."
Raif barely acknowledged what Raina
said. He glanced two riders ahead, where Drey was riding at Orwin
Shank's side. Drey looked back. His fox hood was up again, and the
sky was nearly black, but the expression on his face was clear.
What
has happened to Effie
?
Feeling a stab of unease in his chest,
Raif kicked Shor Gormalin's gelding into a canter and raced along the
file. Drey came seconds behind.
The beaten clay court outside the
roundhouse greatdoor was filling rapidly with people. Some carried
pitch-soaked torches, others smoking racks of charred mutton and
spits of rabbits roasted in their skins. A few brought feed and
blankets for the horses. One figure, Anwyn Bird by the looks of her
round belly, rolled a keg of hearth-warmed beer before her that
belched steam into the freezing air.
Effie stood ahead of everyone, her
shoulders hunched together, shivering and clutching her blue woolen
dress. No one had thought to throw a cloak over her shoulders or push
mitts on her hands. As Raif approached, he saw where his sister's
cheeks had sunk away, leaving little pits beneath her eyes and around
her jaw. His heart ached to see them.
He slid from his horse and ran to her.
Effie took a small step forward. Her grave little face was turned up
toward his, and after a moment she held out her arms and waited to be
taken. Raif scooped her up and brought her to his chest. Pushing her
body against his, he drew her within the folds of his oilskin to
protect her from the cold. She was so light. It was like picking up a
blanket stuffed with straw. Raif hugged her harder, wanting to give
her his heat and his strength.
Then Drey was there, and Effie shifted
in Raif's arms and Raif released her to his brother. Drey's big arms
enveloped Effie completely, and his head came down to hers, and he
kissed her hair and her temples and the bridge of her nose. "It's
all right, little one. We're back now. Raif and I are back."
Effie snuggled against Drey's chest. "I
knew," she said quietly, seriously, glancing from Drey to Raif,
then over to Mace Blackhail, who was busy hefting the saddle from the
roan. "He said you were dead, but I
knew
it wasn't so."
SIX
The Inverted Spire
Ash March twisted the sheets around herself as she
turned in her sleep. Linen spun so smoothly by the old women of
Maker's Isle that it felt as cool as glass rode up between her
thighs, wound around her belly, and coiled about her wrists.
Ash dreamed she was enclosed within a
womb of ice. Blue white light shone on her arms and legs, making them
gleam like smooth metal. The icewall was slick where she had touched
it, skin warmed and dripping. Ice squeaked and cracked as she moved.
Frost fumes filled her mouth like milk.
If she could just push further,
deeper
.
Something shifted. The massive lode of
ice above her juddered, and freezing splinters rained on
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