In Stone's Clasp by Christie Golden Page B

the open door and through the slats of the shutters that covered a single, small window. Here and there, shapes swelled, enveloped by snow. Kevla brushed snow from one such lump, her hands finding the hard curve of a small wooden stool. The walls were bare, and the entire place spoke of abandonment and desertion.
    “Well?” the Dragon asked as she emerged.
    “The houses are filled with snow. Perhaps people tired of the harshness of…of winter and traveled south, where it is not so bitter.”
    “A possibility,” agreed the Dragon. “Did you find anything inside?”
    Kevla inhaled swiftly. “Yes. Furniture,” she said softly as the full impact of the realization swept through her. “They left their furniture.”
    She and the Dragon regarded each other. The unspoken question hung between them: If these people had left of their own accord, wouldn’t they have taken their furnishings with them?
    Kevla knew what she had to do. Dreading what she now suspected she’d find, she reentered the house.
    She concentrated on the snow piled so thickly and gave a mental command. Like water slowly receding from the bank of the Nur River, the snow obeyed her, melting and running in warmed rivulets over her feet and out the door. And slowly, inexorably, the horror was revealed to Kevla’s gaze.
    Some of the lumps were indeed furniture, like the stool she had touched. But the others…
    “Kevla, what do you see?” asked the Dragon.
    “They…they didn’t leave,” she said in a trembling voice. “They’re still here.”
    Six of them sprawled on the bedding and floor. Two men, three women, and one child, bodies emerging from the blanket of snow that had mercifully hidden them. Kevla’s first thought was that somehow they had frozen to death, but as the snow melted, it began to turn red. Blood once frozen began to thaw and drip from wounds that gaped like open mouths. As Kevla stared, unable to tear her gaze away, she saw that the corpse of one of the women had been hacked nearly in two.
    She backed out the door quickly, almost running into the Dragon. She looked up at him, knowing her face told him more than her words would.
    “Marauders found them,” Kevla rasped. “They were—they were killed.”
    “When the land does not provide enough to eat,” the Dragon said in a low voice, “some take what they need from others. By any means they can.” He craned his neck and looked around. “There are other lumps in the snow out here as well. More victims, I would think.”
    Kevla looked where he had indicated and shuddered. “Are the men who did this still in the area?” Kevla asked. She was torn between apprehension and a furious desire to exact revenge for the brutality she had witnessed.
    The Dragon sniffed the air. “No living flesh is nearby.” He frowned. “I have seen no tracks, either. Not so much as a squirrel’s.”
    Kevla was too agitated to ask what a squirrel might be. She tried to calm herself, pressing her hands to her temples and breathing slowly and deeply.
    “If the Stone Dancer was ever here, he is not now. I think—I think I would know if any of the other Dancers were dead.”
    “You and I would not be here if any of the others were dead,” said the Dragon. “The Shadow comes with haste, once a champion of the world has fallen.”
    Kevla looked at her friend. “The bodies are thawing,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded. “We need to burn them.”
    The Dragon shook his head. “We don’t have time,” he said. “We must press on.”
    “No,” Kevla said quietly. “They deserve to have their remains respected. I would imagine there are predators in these woods, similar to the desert dogs or simmars. I won’t have these people gnawed on like—” A wave of nausea washed over her, but she forced it back. “Will you help me or must I do this by myself?”
    The Dragon sighed. “Let us be about it quickly, then.”
    The Dragon had been right. When Kevla melted the snow in the