fall again through the whirl of snow and darkness.
Don’t make him be dead
, he prayed.
Please don’t make him be dead
.
Hethya’s hand dropped gently onto his shoulder. “Come on, honey,” she said. “We’d better do as he says. I’ll make it as easy on you as I can, and if we’re attacked again I’ll see to it you can get to safety.”
Tir nodded. He wondered sometimes, lying beside her in the warmth of her blankets, feeling safe while Bektis’ wolves and saber-teeth snuffled around the verges of the camp, if she had a little boy of her own.
“Who’s his Lordship who’s coming?” he asked softly, as she led him toward a thin sycamore tree where there was shade and grass. “And what’s he going to do? Why does he want me?”
“Never you mind that, honey,” said Hethya. “I’ll make sure you’re all right.”
But her eyes avoided his as she said it. She wasn’t lying, he realized. She just knew that she had no power to do that, if Bektis—and his Lordship, whoever he was, and why ever he wanted him—decided to kill him.
CHAPTER SIX
Shadow passed over the grass.
The Icefalcon turned, scalp prickling, then scanned the sky. There was no sign of a bird.
The chill wind of morning rippled miles of grass and brought the smoke of the camp on Bison Hill. They were waiting for someone, the Icefalcon thought. Or for some event, as Wise Ones waited for conjunctions of stars and planets that would increase and focus their power. Above the coulee, black birds now gathered in clouds, but none circled anywhere near the hill.
A smoke-colored flicker in the corner of his eye, and this time he was sure of it. Ears tilted inquiringly, Yellow-Eyed Dog raised his nose from his paws and sniffed the air. The sky was empty overhead.
“What is it?” whispered Loses His Way.
The Icefalcon drew breath and relaxed a little, as much as he ever relaxed or could relax.
“Cold Death,” he said.
It was after noon, the day following Tir’s abduction from the Keep, that a mixed company of Guards and other Keep soldiery under command of Janus of Weg finally reached the gorge where Rudy lay. Once it grew light enough to see, Gil climbed the rocks two or three times, snow still falling heavily, to lay out branches and rocks and to carve laborious notches with her footprints in the snow, showing where they were. She had just returned from gathering more wood when she heard voices on therocks above. “Gaw, what a mess,” said the familiar back-country drawl of the Commander—and a heavenly choir of angels playing the back half of “Layla” on electrified harps couldn’t have been sweeter to her ears—“I thought you said you could chase the snow-clouds out onto the plain, me dumpling.”
“They should have gone.” Brother Wend’s soft voice was puzzled. “It’s unheard of for weather to cling this long after the Summoner has departed. I think … I’m not sure, but I think there are spells of danger up ahead as well, avalanche and anger among the beasts of the mountains.”
Janus cursed. “Bektis was never that strong,” he said. There was a scuffle, and a couple of little snow-slips tumbled down the rock face. Then Gil saw the black shapes of the Guards, and a couple of the white-clothed warriors of Lord Ankres’ company, scrambling down the way she had marked.
Wend knelt beside Rudy and exclaimed in shock, pulling off his heavy gloves at once to weave spells of healing and stasis over the great burns and cuts on Rudy’s face and chest. Meanwhile, Janus and the others spread out along the frozen stream to cut saplings for a litter. The Icefalcon’s makeshift wall had served to keep the niche under the overhang warm through the night and into morning, but Rudy’s face wore the look of death. “Don’t die on me, man,” Gil whispered, in her disused English, as she watched the priest-wizard’s fingers trace again and again the lines of healing and strength over the still, hawk-nosed
Don’t make him be dead
, he prayed.
Please don’t make him be dead
.
Hethya’s hand dropped gently onto his shoulder. “Come on, honey,” she said. “We’d better do as he says. I’ll make it as easy on you as I can, and if we’re attacked again I’ll see to it you can get to safety.”
Tir nodded. He wondered sometimes, lying beside her in the warmth of her blankets, feeling safe while Bektis’ wolves and saber-teeth snuffled around the verges of the camp, if she had a little boy of her own.
“Who’s his Lordship who’s coming?” he asked softly, as she led him toward a thin sycamore tree where there was shade and grass. “And what’s he going to do? Why does he want me?”
“Never you mind that, honey,” said Hethya. “I’ll make sure you’re all right.”
But her eyes avoided his as she said it. She wasn’t lying, he realized. She just knew that she had no power to do that, if Bektis—and his Lordship, whoever he was, and why ever he wanted him—decided to kill him.
CHAPTER SIX
Shadow passed over the grass.
The Icefalcon turned, scalp prickling, then scanned the sky. There was no sign of a bird.
The chill wind of morning rippled miles of grass and brought the smoke of the camp on Bison Hill. They were waiting for someone, the Icefalcon thought. Or for some event, as Wise Ones waited for conjunctions of stars and planets that would increase and focus their power. Above the coulee, black birds now gathered in clouds, but none circled anywhere near the hill.
A smoke-colored flicker in the corner of his eye, and this time he was sure of it. Ears tilted inquiringly, Yellow-Eyed Dog raised his nose from his paws and sniffed the air. The sky was empty overhead.
“What is it?” whispered Loses His Way.
The Icefalcon drew breath and relaxed a little, as much as he ever relaxed or could relax.
“Cold Death,” he said.
It was after noon, the day following Tir’s abduction from the Keep, that a mixed company of Guards and other Keep soldiery under command of Janus of Weg finally reached the gorge where Rudy lay. Once it grew light enough to see, Gil climbed the rocks two or three times, snow still falling heavily, to lay out branches and rocks and to carve laborious notches with her footprints in the snow, showing where they were. She had just returned from gathering more wood when she heard voices on therocks above. “Gaw, what a mess,” said the familiar back-country drawl of the Commander—and a heavenly choir of angels playing the back half of “Layla” on electrified harps couldn’t have been sweeter to her ears—“I thought you said you could chase the snow-clouds out onto the plain, me dumpling.”
“They should have gone.” Brother Wend’s soft voice was puzzled. “It’s unheard of for weather to cling this long after the Summoner has departed. I think … I’m not sure, but I think there are spells of danger up ahead as well, avalanche and anger among the beasts of the mountains.”
Janus cursed. “Bektis was never that strong,” he said. There was a scuffle, and a couple of little snow-slips tumbled down the rock face. Then Gil saw the black shapes of the Guards, and a couple of the white-clothed warriors of Lord Ankres’ company, scrambling down the way she had marked.
Wend knelt beside Rudy and exclaimed in shock, pulling off his heavy gloves at once to weave spells of healing and stasis over the great burns and cuts on Rudy’s face and chest. Meanwhile, Janus and the others spread out along the frozen stream to cut saplings for a litter. The Icefalcon’s makeshift wall had served to keep the niche under the overhang warm through the night and into morning, but Rudy’s face wore the look of death. “Don’t die on me, man,” Gil whispered, in her disused English, as she watched the priest-wizard’s fingers trace again and again the lines of healing and strength over the still, hawk-nosed
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