a day. He spent that time walking from inn to inn to stable, asking if anyone had seen a green-eyed girlie traveling with two charmcasters. or a pack of rovers. or a girlie on her own. one tavern maid recalled a pair of charmcasters resembling Micah and Fiona passing through some weeks before. nobody recalled anyone resembling rebecca, with or without rovers.
88
S i M o n S Ay S
She’s not dead, Han repeated to himself over and over. Delphi is a madhouse. it’s not surprising she wouldn’t be remembered.
when had she become so important to him?
He paid the stableman for extra grain rations for ragger, and the pony stuffed himself.
“Don’t get used to the soft life,” Han murmured, more to himself than to the rugged pony. He bought himself a pair of snowshoes at the market in Delphi, gritting his teeth at the price.
He left Delphi before dawn the day after the storm, a day that promised to be brilliantly clear. He’d debated waiting another day, letting other travelers break trail for him through the pass.
But more bad weather was closing in, another early spring storm, and he decided he’d better travel while he could. By the time that weather hit, he hoped to be snug in Marisa pines.
89
C H A p T e r S e V e n
The lady
Sword
The crossing into the Fells was anticlimactic, compared to last time. Han kept hold of his amulet, his hand stuffed into his coat as if for warmth. A bundled-up bluejacket pried himself out of his warm guardhouse to give Han the once-over and wave him on.
it seemed that Fellsian eyes were turned inward now, focusing on the drama surrounding the princesses. no one seemed to care if a lone rider crossed into the north.
Han was oddly disappointed. He’d almost hoped for a confrontation, like any sword-dangler wanting to try out his shiny new weapons.
ragger was downright frisky as they began the gentle climb that led to the pass, crow hopping and tossing his head, trying to wrench the reins out of Han’s hands.
“Better save your strength,” Han said. “you’ll be complaining before long.”
it was the same road he’d traveled with Dancer eight months 90
T H e L A Dy S wo r D
before, transformed by the recent snowfall. it was hard to say how much had fallen. in some places the wind had piled it into drifts higher than Han’s mounted height. other places were scoured clean, down to bare rock. once the sun rose, light glittered the peaks, setting every twig and icy rock face aflame.
Han hadn’t much experience traveling in early spring in the mountains. He’d spent his summers in the mountain camps, his winters running the streets of Fellsmarch. As they climbed, the temperature dropped, the clear sky seeming to suck up the heat of Han’s body, no matter how many clothes he layered on. He drew heat from his amulet, using bits of flash to warm his hands and frozen face.
even in summer, the weather in the mountains was changeable and treacherous, but Han was surprised how much the deep snow slowed him down. The road became a trail, threading between great blocks of stone that blocked the wind and drifting snow, at least.
it wasn’t long before ragger stopped his prancing and dancing and bore down for the long haul, laying his ears back along his head. Han rested him frequently, graining him at every stop from an already dwindling supply.
it was past midday when Han came on a clan way house, called way Camp, which lay a few hundred yards off the main road. He and Dancer had stayed there on their way south back in autumn. Han turned off the road toward the camp, thinking he could rest ragger under shelter this time.
Han was tempted to stay the night. The Demonai often stocked the way camps with food and other supplies, especially this time of year. Han had chosen to travel light since he’d 91
T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e
assumed he’d reach Marisa pines by nightfall.
But if they stayed, they might be overtaken by the next storm, and then there
88
S i M o n S Ay S
She’s not dead, Han repeated to himself over and over. Delphi is a madhouse. it’s not surprising she wouldn’t be remembered.
when had she become so important to him?
He paid the stableman for extra grain rations for ragger, and the pony stuffed himself.
“Don’t get used to the soft life,” Han murmured, more to himself than to the rugged pony. He bought himself a pair of snowshoes at the market in Delphi, gritting his teeth at the price.
He left Delphi before dawn the day after the storm, a day that promised to be brilliantly clear. He’d debated waiting another day, letting other travelers break trail for him through the pass.
But more bad weather was closing in, another early spring storm, and he decided he’d better travel while he could. By the time that weather hit, he hoped to be snug in Marisa pines.
89
C H A p T e r S e V e n
The lady
Sword
The crossing into the Fells was anticlimactic, compared to last time. Han kept hold of his amulet, his hand stuffed into his coat as if for warmth. A bundled-up bluejacket pried himself out of his warm guardhouse to give Han the once-over and wave him on.
it seemed that Fellsian eyes were turned inward now, focusing on the drama surrounding the princesses. no one seemed to care if a lone rider crossed into the north.
Han was oddly disappointed. He’d almost hoped for a confrontation, like any sword-dangler wanting to try out his shiny new weapons.
ragger was downright frisky as they began the gentle climb that led to the pass, crow hopping and tossing his head, trying to wrench the reins out of Han’s hands.
“Better save your strength,” Han said. “you’ll be complaining before long.”
it was the same road he’d traveled with Dancer eight months 90
T H e L A Dy S wo r D
before, transformed by the recent snowfall. it was hard to say how much had fallen. in some places the wind had piled it into drifts higher than Han’s mounted height. other places were scoured clean, down to bare rock. once the sun rose, light glittered the peaks, setting every twig and icy rock face aflame.
Han hadn’t much experience traveling in early spring in the mountains. He’d spent his summers in the mountain camps, his winters running the streets of Fellsmarch. As they climbed, the temperature dropped, the clear sky seeming to suck up the heat of Han’s body, no matter how many clothes he layered on. He drew heat from his amulet, using bits of flash to warm his hands and frozen face.
even in summer, the weather in the mountains was changeable and treacherous, but Han was surprised how much the deep snow slowed him down. The road became a trail, threading between great blocks of stone that blocked the wind and drifting snow, at least.
it wasn’t long before ragger stopped his prancing and dancing and bore down for the long haul, laying his ears back along his head. Han rested him frequently, graining him at every stop from an already dwindling supply.
it was past midday when Han came on a clan way house, called way Camp, which lay a few hundred yards off the main road. He and Dancer had stayed there on their way south back in autumn. Han turned off the road toward the camp, thinking he could rest ragger under shelter this time.
Han was tempted to stay the night. The Demonai often stocked the way camps with food and other supplies, especially this time of year. Han had chosen to travel light since he’d 91
T H e G r Ay wo L F T H ro n e
assumed he’d reach Marisa pines by nightfall.
But if they stayed, they might be overtaken by the next storm, and then there
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