“He’s very proud.” Thayet dipped her handkerchief in Alanna’s water basin and wiped the knight’s face. “Some women can cry and look beautiful,” she said dryly. “You and I can’t.”
“I know,” Alanna sniffed. “I get red and blotchy. When George told me he was, well, interested, I cared about his being a commoner. I even said ’like should marry like,’ or something like that. George didn’t care. But Liam—What difference can rank make to the Shang Dragon?”
There was a quiet rap on the door, and Liam came in.
“I was just leaving,” Thayet said. She winked at Alanna and went out, closing the door.
His face scarlet, Liam watched the floor as he spoke. “You shouldn’t’ve taken the dress off. You look very pretty in it. I guess sometimes we get used to seeing a person a certain way.”
It was all the apology she would ever get from him, she knew. Alanna patted the bed beside her, and Liam sat. “I like dresses,” she explained. “If you come with us to Tortall, you’ll see me wearing more of them. Just because I’m a knight doesn’t mean I don’t like pretty clothes.” She grinned at him. “I’ve even worn face paint, sometimes.”
When he looked startled, she explained, “You know, lip rouge, and so on. I’m not ashamed of being female, Liam.”
Tentatively, he brushed Alanna’s hair with his hands. “I didn’t think you were. I never forget you’re a woman, Lioness.” His first kiss was gentle, the second passionate. Alanna let him pull her into his arms, thinking, We should talk some more about why he was angry. I don’t think lovemaking will settle anything. The Dragon was so determined, however, that once again she put her questions aside to be dealt with later.
An hour later, as they dressed for dinner, she asked, “Are there any Lionesses in Shang?”
Liam stretched, thinking. “Not for fifty years. The women prefer names they don’t think are ’flashy.’ That means not many Lionesses or Dragons. My master in kick fighting was the Wildcat. She always said if the men wished to attract attention, that was their problem.”
“But mythic beasts are ’flashy’ by nature, I should think,” protested Alanna. “Or don’t you let women get to those ranks?”
“Try to stop them!” he grinned. “Right now there’s me, the Griffin—also a man—and Kylaia al Jmaa, the Unicorn. She’s the most beautiful thing on two feet, all silk and steel and lightning.” He tweaked her nose. “Satisfied?”
Their group had dinner in the room Thayet and Buri shared, not bored enough to go down to the common room yet. They were filled with a weird sense of mingled excitement and apprehension, but no one cared to talk about it. What could they do now? Wait until Chitral cleared?
Alanna didn’t think she could wait that long. Though she didn’t know why, she had a strong feeling that she had to get home.
They amused themselves the next morning by catching up on chores that went neglected while they were on the road. Alanna and Coram spent the hours after breakfast mending tack in the stables. Liam worked on his fighting gear as Thayet mended clothes and Buri cleaned the weapons. By lunchtime all of them were ready for diversion. They went to the common room to see who else was kept there by the storm.
Two companies of merchants were present: one bore spices to the valley north of Lumuhu and Chitral, the other furs and hand-woven goods south to Port Udayapur. They were joined by four locals—two shepherds, a blacksmith, and a guide—and a group of five Doi. The Doi were as interested in Alanna and her friends as the knight was in them. They exchanged looks with Alanna throughout the meal.
“Liam,” Alanna whispered, trying not to seem obvious, “the Doi woman with the onyx in the middle of her brow—who is she?”
Liam nodded gravely to the Doi. They hid their eyes briefly, a sign the Dragon said meant respect. “A fortune-teller,” he answered. “The Doi give them as much honor as you’d give a priest. Each fortune-teller works differently. Some read tea leaves in a cup. Some tell your future from the stars. I had my future done once. It’s interesting.”
She was surprised. “You don’t like magic.”
Liam shook his head. “This isn’t the same. No sparkly fire, nothing flying at you, or things changing. A Doi looks at something real!.”
One of the Doi men came over, covering his eyes briefly to show his respect for Liam. “Dragon-man, we are of the Rockmouse people.”
“I know the Rockmouse,” replied Liam.
“Our Lady-Who-Sees, Mi-chi, she knows time lies heavy, out of the wind. If you wish, she will tell your hands, all of you.”
“We will be honored.” Liam stood, telling the others softly, “It’s an insult to say no.”
Thayet sat beside Mi-chi when the fortune-teller beckoned to her. “I read hands,” Mi-chi said. Her voice was deep, her eyes dark and mysterious. “It is said the hand you use to draw a bow or to stir a pot will reveal that part of you others can see. The less-used hand, that is your inner self.”
Thayet nodded. “I’m right-handed.”
Mi-chi took the princess’s left hand, holding it palm up. No one spoke as she ran her fingers over the lines in Thayet’s palm. Curious, Alanna probed with her Gift. The fortune-teller’s magic was like Bazhir magic; it was drawn from the land rather than from a source inside the person who wielded it.
“What do you see?” Thayet wanted to know.
Mi-chi smiled at her. “You have lost your chains only, great lady. Follow your heart. It leads you to a mighty place. And forget your home. You will never return there.”
Thayet rose and walked over to the hearth, keeping her face away from them. Buri watched her royal mistress for a moment before taking her place beside the Doi woman. “Whatever it is you have to say, whisper it, all right?” she asked as she offered her right hand.
Mi-chi agreed, and afterward Buri refused to say what she’d been told. Coram was next, and he asked the same favor. When he stood, he was smiling—whatever his own future held, he seemed to like the prospect.
Mi-chi smiled at Liam. “You know your fate already, Dragon-man. Nothing I may say will change it, or your knowledge of it.” She looked at Alanna. “You, please.”
Alanna took the seat beside Mi-chi, offering her left hand. Mi-chi took both, studying the knight’s callused palms intently. When she spoke, Alanna could feel a power in her words that was nothing like the Doi magic she’d sensed earlier. This was stronger and untamed.
“He waits, old Chitral.” Mi-chi’s voice was harsh. “He knows you have come for his prize. He will not surrender it if you are unworthy.” Alanna’s friends gathered close, listening. “Do you think it will matter if you await this storm’s end before you set out? He has others to throw at you.”
“I’m not trying that pass in the middle of a blizzard!” Alanna protested.
“Then your desire, or whatever it is that drives you, is not enough.” Mi-chi’s eyes were mocking. “Make no mistake, hero from the flatlands. Chitral fights you with his snows and winds. All who would face him must battle on his terms, or not at all.” Dropping Alanna’s hands, the Doi looked at Liam. “Dragon-man, do you bring your kitten to us for testing? You may not want the grown cat.”
“I don’t bring Alanna anywhere, wisewoman. She picks her own road.”
Mi-chi stood, shaking. One of her companions came to support her. “Do not forget that, Dragonman.” Her voice rasped with exhaustion. “She is a champion, like you, but different. Always different.” The Doi helped her to her rooms.
Alanna rubbed her hands on her breeches—they still tingled with both Mi-chi’s Doi magic and the other magic that had spoken through the fortune-teller. “It sounds...I don’t know. I’m not a hero, not yet.”
Buri slung an arm around Alanna’s shoulders. “Glad to hear it. Come on out to the stables and we’ll practice some kick fighting.”
The worst of it was that Alanna believed Mi-chi, or she believed whatever had spoken through the Doi woman. That surge of weird magic was impossible to deny. Just what is sit
ting up in that pass, waiting for me to come after the Jewel? she asked herself time after time as that day ended and the next crept on. The blizzard continued to blow outside without showing any signs of letting up.
She thought about just going home, but at this point, something inside Alanna balked. She knew there had to have been other times in her life when she’d failed to complete something she’d set out to do. She couldn’t remember them, however, and she didn’t want to. Furthermore, she did not want her search for the Dominion Jewel to become the time she would remember that she had started something and had given it up. Almost in spite of herself, she began to remember what she’d known as a child in Trebond about survival in the snow.
She was peering through a crack in a shuttered window shortly before twilight of their third day at the inn when she felt someone come up behind her. She knew it was Liam and didn’t turn. “I think the storm’s dropping,” she said, trying to hope.
Liam turned her around, gripping her shoulders tight. “Don’t even think of it,” he warned. “And don’t make your eyes wide and ask what I’m talking about. I’m not Coram, and your tricks don’t work with me.”
That made her angry. “Maybe Coram lets my ’tricks’ work with him, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then why’d the innkeeper tell me you were asking about snow gear?” He gave her a little shake. “Do you think you’re immortal? That’s a killer blizzard! Entire herds are out there frozen in their tracks! Maybe that Gift of yours could shelter you from the little blows in Tortall, but this is the Roof of the World, and you will die. I’d never attempt it, and I forbid you to!”
Years of training stopped her from hitting him, although she’d never wanted to as much as right now. “You don’t know what I can do, Ironarm.” Her voice was icy as she jerked out of his hold. “I resent your acting as if I’d do something stupid if you weren’t around.”
“And wouldn’t you do something stupid?” he snapped. “Sometimes you act like you have no more sense than the kitten I named you!”
That was unfair, and they both knew it was unfair. Liam couldn’t apologize; Alanna couldn’t forgive. They were coldly silent through dinner, and the others retreated to their own rooms immediately after, rather than witness this quarrel. Liam stayed to talk with the Doi, and Alanna went upstairs with Faithful.
“We’re not going to work this out,” she told the cat as she undressed and got into bed. “We’re too much alike, I guess.” Then she began to cry, because it hurt, in spite of her knowing why things were going wrong. Faithful nestled beside her cheek, purring comfortingly. Alanna was asleep by the time Liam came to bed. She didn’t feel him gently touch her tear-blotched cheek.
The dream was so clear it scared her: Jonathan stood beside a coffin that held his mother, Queen Lianne.
“She was not strong.” Roger stood on the opposite side of the coffin, his face emotionless. “Her time had come.”
Jon’s eyes were tired. “She was healthy once, before you sent the Sweating Sickness. Before you tried to kill her with your spells.”
“That was another lifetime for me,” Roger said. Thom was a shadow at Roger’s side. “I have no more magic,” Jonathan’s cousin went on. “I did not kill her.”
Jonathan looked at his mother’s face. “I know you didn’t.”
Behind Jon, in the shadows, stood George. His eyes were fixed on Roger.
Alanna’s eyes flew open. It was very late—Liam was asleep, and the hearth-fire had burned down to embers.
That’s it, she thought grimly as she slid out of bed. I’ve wasted enough time. I’m going to claim that Jewel and go home.
Are you sure? Faithful asked as he settled on Alanna’s pillow.
“This is crazy,” she whispered as she dressed. Liam slept peacefully, not hearing her preparations. “That Doi fortune-teller was making fun of me.” Grabbing the bag that contained her next layer of clothing, she pointed to the door.
No, replied Faithful. Someone has to keep him asleep. He began to purr. A white, shimmering glow rose to cover him and Liam.
In the hallway Alanna shivered as she exchanged the clothes she’d put on so quickly for garments made of silk: shirt, hose, and gloves. The next layer was wool: leggings, stockings, another shirt. She’d begun to sweat, but she knew outside things would be very different. Discarding the bag and carrying soft-soled trapper’s boots, she tiptoed out of the inn and into the passage that joined house and stables.
Underground hot springs made it possible for the inn to stay open. The stables were warm—in her clothes, too warm. Alanna cursed the heat until she spotted the stableboy, asleep in a pile of hay. When he stirred, she touched his forehead and told him to sleep, putting her Gift into it.
Moonlight pranced when she saw her mistress, but Alanna shook her head. “Not tonight, girl.”
Next to the stable doors were the three large bins the innkeeper had described for her. The one marked in red contained heavy winter gear in the largest possible sizes; the yellow one held medium sizes, and the green was for small. Opening the last, she pulled out the next layer of clothing. Everything was Doi make: leather jacket and trousers lined with fleece, a vest filled with goose down, a knitted facemask, goggles.
She used a burnoose for a head-cloth and her own fleece-lined mittens. From her belt hung Lightning and a double-headed axe with a special blade for ice. Over it all she wrapped a fur-lined cloak. Scanning the racks of snowshoes hanging over the bins, she selected the smallest pair and fastened them over the boots. “I hope I still remember how to use these things!”
Standing, she took inventory. Had she left out a single piece of clothing or a single tool that might help?
If she had, she couldn’t remember it now. Gently she brought up her Gift, filling every stitch she wore with it and binding the stable’s warmth to every layer of clothing. She fixed it there with a word of command, just to be safe, and sealed it all with the ritual “So mote it be!” Heat settled over her like a blanket. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the stable door a crack and passed through. Before she closed it, she sent a bit of magic back to the sleeping boy, so he would wake in five minutes and bolt the door.
The stableyard held drifts of only a foot or so, protected as it was by the inn’s high containing wall. She found the gate and opened it, bracing herself for the first unrestricted blast of the storm. When it came, it almost knocked her over. Slanting her body into the wind, Alanna passed through the gate and pulled it closed.
The wind made her gasp with its sharpness. Icy daggers bit into her chest as she started to shiver. Cold, a part of her wailed, hate the cold!
Alanna forced a foot out in front of her, trying not to think of ice or wind. She stepped again, shoving her shoed foot down. Step two. She could barely see in front of her. How would she know which way to go? She raised a foot and brought it down, moving forward against the wind. Third step takes all. Somehow she was moving. Given what she already knew—that whatever ruled the pass was going to make this as hard for her as possible—she walked directly into the wind.
She hadn’t used snowshoes much in the years since she’d left Trebond. It took her a few minutes to make her legs and feet remember just how they worked: long steps, lift the shoes clear of the snow, then put them down. Stop every six or seven steps to shake off the snow that piled on the top of the broad, flat shoe. It was hard work for her leg muscles, but she welcomed it. She welcomed anything that took her mind off the cold. Even her Gift couldn’t ward off all of it, and her magic was burning up dangerously fast in the attempt.
Was she mistaken, or had the ground begun to rise?
She wasn’t mistaken. With a thump she collided with a tall stone pillar, the one that marked the point where the road left the valley floor and climbed into the pass. Alanna sheltered herself in the lee of the rock for a moment, panting with the effort it had taken to get this far.
On a stormless day this walk would’ve taken me five mi
nutes. How long have I been out here? An hour? She pushed away from her shelter and into the wind again.
A sudden gust shoved her to her knees. Clenching her teeth, Alanna got up and went on to ram into a tree. She stumbled and fell on her back in the snow. Afraid she’d get buried in snow if she stayed in one place too long, she struggled up again, hissing words she’d forgotten she knew at the clumsy snowshoes. Inspiration struck. She seized a tree branch and hacked it off with her axe to form a staff. Miache didn’t have to put up with anything like this to get the Jewel, she thought grumpily as she shook the snow from her shoes and set off once again. She stole it from a nice, warm vault. Now she tested the ground ahead with the wood, always heading face first into the wind. She decided she’d rather face a dragon than this storm.
It helped to recite poems as she walked. First she went through those the Mithrans had taught her in the palace. When they ended, she started with those taught her by foot soldiers, thieves, and hostlers. She was halfway through “The Tireless Beggar”—the song that had almost gotten Coram into trouble in Berat—when she ran out of voice. Stopping to rest, she wondered how far she’d come.
Her internal clock said dawn was still a few hours away and that she’d been at this almost two hours. The innkeeper has said it was two hours’ hard walking from his door to the top of the pass, but under these conditions, Alanna knew it might take her an entire day to cover the same distance.
I wonder if I can sense the Jewel? She reached for her Gift and stopped, feeling afraid. While she’d concentrated on pushing ahead, her Gift had poured itself into the effort of keeping her warm. It was dangerously low and flickering, burning itself up against the killer storm. She couldn’t turn back—it would be gone before she reached the tree, let alone the valley.
Alanna climbed on. She thought wryly that she couldn’t even blame Liam for forbidding her this climb and making her determined to do it. She was a grown woman, and the only person who had ultimate control of her behavior was she, herself.
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