“I can’t trust you for a second, wretched thing!” She pushed Snowdrop away firmly, the flesh warm and comforting under her hands.
The language the girl was speaking sounded different to Baluch’s. Bramble could understand it, but the difference made her wonder just where she was. Over Snowdrop’s back she saw three figures come into view around a curve of the mountain. Three young men. Acton and two others. One of them was Sebbi.
Bramble had seen Sebbi through Baluch’s eyes; now she could see Baluch through the girl’s. He was even fairer than Acton — a tow-headed, pale-eyed youth who next to Acton looked slight but who had a rangy strength of his own.
She watched his face as he looked at the girl and saw his hesitation, and then the pleasure and desire in his eyes. But the girl was looking mainly at Acton. Sebbi noticed that, too, and his mouth tightened. The girl didn’t notice. She was smiling at Acton.
Oh no, Bramble thought. Not that. She could feel heat flowing through her, the quick heat of the young who want things immediately, right now. This girl was smitten with Acton at the first glance. He was worth looking at, Bramble admitted grudgingly, if you liked that tall blond muscly type. The girl obviously did. Bramble thought wryly that the gods were having a joke with her. The only person she’d felt comfortable being since this began was an empty-headed girl who wanted the man she hated most.
The boys hesitated as they saw her, but she had clearly seen them and there was nowhere to go on the bare hillside. Bramble could see Acton make the decision; let’s pretend we’re just harmless travelers, boys out for a lark. He’d noticed that she was pretty, just as Baluch had, but without Baluch’s hesitation and reserve.
Acton smiled. Bramble wanted to think that it was a smile calculated to charm, like the way Thegan smiled, but even she had to admit that it wasn’t. It was simply pleasure: a sunny day, a pretty girl, a chance to stop hiking and chat. And get information. Oh, yes, that was in his eyes, too: determination.
“Greetings,” he said easily, in the girl’s language. Bramble suspected that Acton had learned some of the foreigners’ tongue from Elric.
The girl dimpled and played with one long red plait. “Greetings,” she said. She flicked a glance at Baluch and Sebbi but returned immediately to Acton’s face. “You’re not from around here . . .” It was both question and invitation. Acton moved closer and sat down on a nearby rock.
“From a couple of valleys over,” he said easily. Was that a lie or a simple understatement? Bramble glimpsed Baluch’s face and realized he was undecided about the morality of lying to this far too trusting young woman. The girl wasn’t interested in interpreting Baluch’s expression, just Acton’s, which was one of pure admiration.
“We thought we’d take a trip and, maybe… catch a glimpse of the Ice King.”
His statement was daring, Bramble thought, said so straightforwardly, but perhaps it was safer than making up excuses.
The girl pouted. The movement was unfamiliar to Bramble, and she instantly hated the sensation. I am not like her! she thought defiantly to the gods. I just like goats. Her own emotions almost distracted her from what the girl was saying.
“Well, that’s not hard. He’s only one more ridge over. It’s not like you can miss him.”
Acton frowned, puzzled as Bramble was by the girl’s tone, which was both resentful and dismissive, as though Acton had spoiled the afternoon by mentioning the king.
“Plenty of time for that later,” Acton said, sliding down the rock so that he was sitting next to the girl. “There are more interesting things here.”
She smiled and leaned back on her hands, tilting her head so that she looked at him from under her lashes. Her breasts were bigger than Bramble’s and it was a strange sensation, to feel them move and shift under her dress. Acton smiled back and trailed one finger down her cheek. The girl’s body came alight, on fire instantly. Acton’s thumb rubbed against her lower lip and her tongue came out reflexively, licking both her lips and his skin. He leaned closer. The girl’s eyes closed.
No, no, no! Bramble thought to the gods. Get me out of here! Now! But they didn’t listen to her.
Baluch and Sebbi had disappeared from the girl’s sight and thoughts, but just as Bramble felt the warmth of Acton’s face next to the girl’s and was bracing for his kiss, Baluch shouted loudly, “Acton! Get over here!”
Acton jumped to his feet immediately and ran, leaving the girl flustered and furious.
She jumped to her feet and turned on them. “What do you think you’re doing?”
They were standing on the ridge, looking down into the next valley. Acton’s hand had closed on Baluch’s shoulder as if for support. The three stood silently, staring.
The girl advanced on them. “What’s so important . . .?” Then she realized what they were staring at, although it was still out of her sight. Bramble impatiently willed her to go forward so that she could see.
“Oh, gods! Is that all?”
Acton turned to her. “All?”
She tossed her head, another action which Bramble immediately hated. “Oh, I know, he’s destroying everything, he’s wiping out all our farmland, we’re all going to starve —” There was a sob in her voice and Bramble realized she was genuinely upset. “But there’s nothing we can do about it and I thought we were going to have a nice day, just for once, just one day when I didn’t have to think about disaster.”
She moved a step forward, sank down and began to cry, but not before Bramble had seen what was in the next valley. Or rather, what was filling the next valley.
Ice.
The Ice King. Not a person, but a river of ice.
It filled the valley and covered the hills beyond. There were some peaks that stood out in the far distance, but each of the valleys between had been overrun. The ice stretched, white and blue and deep black where fissures broke the surface, as far as she could see. At its leading edge it showed as a striped cliff of blue and darker blue and white on top. It was too big to comprehend, too beautiful to be anything but terrifying.
As the girl’s sobbing quietened, Bramble found that she could hear the crunch and screech of ice breaking, of rocks being slid along with force. The river was moving. Acton heard it too. He crouched down next to the girl.
“How fast does it move?” he asked gently.
She shrugged, still crying.
“How long has it been in that valley?” Baluch asked, not looking away from the ice.
“Since three days after the Springtree dance,” the girl said, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“It’s Mid-Summer tonight,” Baluch said. “That means it’s eaten the valley in less than two months.”
“He eats everything,” the girl said. “My gran says it’s a punishment sent by the Wise One because we haven’t been sacrificing enough.”
“What do you think?”
She hauled herself to her feet as though she were as old as her gran.
“I think the world is coming to an end, that the ice giants are eating the world like the old stories say, and we’d better enjoy ourselves while we can.” She looked at Acton and Bramble could feel, finally, the desperation under the coquetry. “What do you think?”
He came closer and framed her face with gentle hands. “I think you are beautiful, that you have eyes the color of the sea,” he said, and Bramble could tell that there was no lying anywhere in him and perhaps never had been. So what changed him into Acton the invader?
He bent to kiss the girl.
Get me out of here now! Bramble screamed to the gods and at last they responded, sending the waters to tumble her away, to swirl her and shake her and land her somewhere, anywhere, but in Acton’s arms.
Ash
THE NEXT DAY, a day of high white clouds and breezes, they rode through winding trails along the side of the mountain, heading south toward the pass into the North Domain. Ash considered all the different kinds of trouble they could get in, down in the populated parts of the
valley. It was a truism among Travelers that two young men, Traveling together, were the most likely to attract unwanted attention.
“Bullies, bastards and bashers,” his mother had warned him when he was only eleven or twelve. “They all go for the young men on their own.”
He couldn’t see any way around it, though. They had to head down to the river flats, to make their way around the eastern spur of the Northern Mountains that fenced in the valley. The bluff reared up in front of them, growing taller as they rode through the next day, a sheer cliff bespeckled by stunted trees clinging to ledges and crannies.
“Do you know any way over the bluff?” he asked Flax.
“I’m not going up there!” Flax retorted, alarmed. “That’s wilderness!” Cam skittered a little, picking up on his fear.
Wilderness. Ash shivered. In wilderness, the old agreements with the wind and water spirits were void. Humans were prey, easy prey. The wilderness wasn’t like the Great Forest, which had its own laws. There were no rules, and no help. Acton’s people avoided the canyons near Gabriston because they believed them to be wilderness like that: fatal for humans. They were fatal, too, for anyone without Traveler blood in them. But the bluff ahead, that must be real wilderness, without demons, and no place for them. The valley was a haven in comparison. But they were likely to meet problems there.
Imagining all the problems, and planning how he’d deal with them if they arose, took enough of Ash’s concentration — along with the riding, which still didn’t come easily — so that he could mostly ignore Flax’s incessant humming and singing.
He was so concentrated on the threats ahead that the shouts behind them took him by surprise.
“Oi! You! What do you think you’re doing?”
They both turned in their saddles to see three men riding up behind them, on bay horses that even Ash realized were beautiful. The three men were all red-heads, brothers by the look of them, and they sat their horses in the same way that Bramble and Zel did, like they’d been born there.
“We’ll never outrun them,” Flax said quietly. “They’re chasers.”
Ash nodded. Better make sure they didn’t have to run, then.
He raised a hand in greeting.
“Gods be with you,” he said politely.
The greeting surprised them. But then they looked at his dark hair and dark eyes, and their own eyes narrowed. Flax moved forward a little and their expression lightened as they saw his fairer hair and hazel eyes. Ash dropped his gaze. Let them think he was a servant, if it made them feel better. “Pride gets you killed,” his mother had taught him, and she was right.
“Greetings,” Flax said, friendly and casual.
“What do you think you’re doing, riding through our land?” The eldest of them spoke belligerently, but as though he always spoke like that, not with any especial malice.
“Sorry,” Flax said. “I’m on my way to Mitchen, and I thought this was a public road.”
“Why not take the main road, then?”
Flax waved his hand. “It’s so pretty here, I just wanted to enjoy the ride.”
They frowned. Ash thought it was probably a bad excuse. But the youngest man, a boy really, was looking at Flax with undisguised admiration. Flax smiled at him.
“It is beautiful,” the boy agreed, pushing back his hair with one hand and smiling for all he was worth. His brothers shot him looks of annoyance, though clearly they knew all about his predilection for young men, because there was no puzzlement or disgust, just that look that brothers get when their younger siblings do something stupid. But the eldest wasn’t minded to let it go that easily.
“What’s he doing here?” he said, staring at Ash.
“He’s my safeguarder,” Flax said. It was an inspired idea. They looked taken aback, but not disbelieving.
Eyes still down, conveying no threat, Ash added, “Young master here likes to wander around. His father sends me to take care of him.” He lifted his eyes and risked a conspiratorial smile. “Make sure he doesn’t get into bad company.”
The second man’s mouth twitched, but big brother wasn’t cozened so simply.
“A Traveler who can fight. Seems to me I’ve heard something about that recently . . .”
Ash shrugged, and Flax cut in.
“We’ve been up in Foreverfroze.” He addressed the younger brother directly. “It’s so beautiful up there. Have you been?”
“No, I always wanted to go but —”
His brother cut him off. “You’re that one who killed the warlord’s man.”
Each man was suddenly still, staring at Ash. Except Flax.
“Oh, don’t be silly. Why would he do that? And when, anyway? He’s been with me.” His manner was perfect, and the men relaxed. Ash was impressed by the quality of his lying. That had to come from practice. He wondered how much truth Flax told Zel.
“Off our land,” the eldest brother said.
Flax and Ash both nodded, and turned their horses toward the river flats.
“Del, why don’t you go with them and make sure they do leave?” the second brother said, amusement in his voice.
“Good idea!” the youngest said and didn’t wait for endorsement from the eldest. He kicked his horse to move ahead and led them down a steep, stone-covered trail with the confidence of someone who’d done it all his life. Flax followed, just as flamboyantly. Ash came last with much more caution, finding another source of annoyance at Flax. It was all right for these boys who rode before they walked . . .
Del kept turning around in the saddle to flirt with Flax, who gave back smile for smile. Ash wasn’t sure if it were acting or not. He suspected not, and wondered. Men shagging together was frowned upon among Travelers and it was one of the other differences between them and Acton’s people. “We all have to do our duty to the blood,” the boys had been told on his first visit to the Deep. “The blood must survive.” And they were also told: no more than two children who needed to be carried. Children must be spaced so that, if necessary, parents could pick up one each and run. This was the man’s responsibility, to refrain from sex so that there were never more than two young children at a time. Many Traveler families had grown-up children and then a new batch, young enough to be their siblings’ children.
“Oh, there’s no room at our house. My grands all live with us and my brother’s brood and I’ve got four sisters, too, and none of them married yet,” he heard Del say with mock outrage.
The prohibition against having more than two children at a time, combined with the Generation law, which for hundreds of years had forbidden Travelers to move in parties containing more than two generations — parents and children — meant that there were no large, happy, dark-haired families full of siblings who complained about each other and squabbled and borrowed each other’s things and backed each other up in fights. Ash wondered what it would be like to live like that, in the middle of so many kin. But neither he nor any child of his was likely to find out.
They reached a ridge from which they could see the fertile valley, with wooden fences and houses looking like toys.
“This is the edge of our land,” Del said with clear reluctance. He pointed south. “Follow the trail down that way and it brings you to the main road.” He edged his horse closer to Flax and Cam. “Sure you can’t stay?” he asked, resting a hand on Flax’s shoulder. Flax looked a little downcast, too.
“I wish I could,” he said. “But we have to get on.”
They both sighed. Ash envied them for a moment: the quick solidarity, the easy friendship. Their ease together wasn’t just being attracted to each other; they were the same kind of person, spoiled and cosseted and sunny-natured as a result, expecting the best from the world. But in Ash’s experience, the best didn’t happen often, if at all.
He coughed politely, as a servant might to remind his young master of the time.
“Yes, we have to get on,” Flax repeated sadly. “Thanks for your help.”
“If you’r
e ever back this way . . .” Del touched Flax’s cheek gently, and Flax nodded, then gave a cheeky grin.
“Oh, I’ll pay a visit, don’t you worry about that!” They both laughed and Del was still laughing and waving as they headed down the trail he had shown them and turned a corner, hiding him from sight.
“He was nice,” Flax said.
Ash made a noncommittal noise of agreement, and Flax grinned at him.
“Not your type? You don’t know what you’re missing!”
For the first time they laughed together, so they were not on guard as they rounded another curve in the trail and found themselves on one of the roads that criss-crossed the valley floor. Ash hadn’t realized how far down they’d come and it made him nervous. This road was used. He could see a cart in the distance to the south, coming closer, and to the north was a man on foot, with the heavy pack of a hawker. At least he was moving away from them.
“Look for a way to get off this road,” Ash said. “We need to go the back ways.”
Flax grinned. “You could always go over the bluff instead of around it. You’re the one they suspect. I’ll meet you on the other side.”
Ash shuddered involuntarily, and Flax laughed.
“Very funny,” Ash said sharply. He forced himself to look unconcerned, but the very thought of wind wraiths made him shake. Doronit had made him confront them — to tame them, even — but the memory of their long claws and sharp, hungry eyes still troubled his dreams.
He was so caught up in the memory of the night on the cliffs of Turvite when he had met the wraiths that he barely noticed the bullock cart coming toward him. His instincts kicked in at the last moment and he assessed the driver, a middle-aged man… someone he knew. Frantically, he tried to place the face, but it wasn’t until the man spoke that he recognized him. This was the carter they had met, he and Bramble and Martine, on their journey out of Golden Valley to the Well of Secrets.
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