7 Folds of Winter

by Carolyn McCray

  “Viola, Traven is at least five days out. I can’t travel that far —”

  “What if he’s hurt? Close to drawing his last breath? What if they find him at Thaw?” Viola turned and touched Crystalia’s palm. “You, and you alone, know where he is. He blessed you with this for a reason. Will you not take this risk for him?”

  Crystalia’s knees buckled, and she feared she would swoon right there. Viola knew she would take any risk for Traven. Crystalia had just hoped no one would ask this of her so soon.

  “Madame Hesper will be angry.”

  Viola patted Crystalia’s hand. “She will see the wisdom when you bring him to safety.”

  In the face of such logic, Crystalia had no argument. Madame Hesper truly was dying. Crystalia had seen it in her eyes, just like in her own mother’s all those years ago. And how long could she keep the spirit sexton and her lifeline a secret? In this small town with prying eyes, her secret would not last to the Sabbath. To stay any longer, she would risk never leaving — never seeing if her destiny truly awaited her with Traven. “All right. I will leave tonight.”

  Viola jumped forward and gave Crystalia an enveloping hug. “You are so brave. Finish packing the saddlebags. I’ll run upstairs and change. Oh, how I wish I could go with you!”

  With the thought of the bitter cold and Barren Plains, so did Crystalia.

  ***

  Ornery threw down his scarf. Miss Emmert just wasn’t fair. How could she turn his world upside down again, then send him inside the wagon to clean up?

  He had a million questions, but Miss Emmert was firm. They drew near to Last Hitch, and she wished him “presentable.” Ornery rubbed fog off the small brass mirror. There was no way to make this misshapen body of his “presentable.” Everything about it was grotesque.

  Just in the few hours since they’d left Charolette’s Berg, Ornery’s floppy ears had retracted, leaving only two extremely long earlobes to hang down almost to his shoulders. Worse, his nose had elongated, and fur covered his brow and forehead. Why did all this have to happen now? Last week, just last week, Ornery’s face was almost normal. He had been able to pass as human amongst the crowded marketplace. Why could not his body behave? Just this once.

  “You have nothing to prove to your father,” Miss Emmert said from behind.

  Ornery spun around so quickly that he dropped the mirror. The delicate piece of metal shattered across the slats of the wagon. A hundred reflections told him that Miss Emmert was wrong.

  “Child, you must be more careful,” Miss Emmert said as she bent down to clean up the shards.

  “What about the horses?” Ornery asked as he headed for the front of the wagon.

  “They need little guidance from me. You took so long that I thought you might need some help.”

  “I have need of answers.”

  Miss Emmert looked up at him. “Would you not like to hear them from your father’s own mouth?”

  Ornery’s temper flared as he felt his nose stretch a bit more. “It’s no use. He’ll take one look at me and gallop off again.”

  Ornery had meant to stay angry. To vent all his rage at Miss Emmert, but tears rose and cracked his voice. He wanted to tell her all his fears, but only a squeak came out.

  Miss Emmert rose and put an arm around him. “Ornery, your father has already seen you. Every centaur goes through this awkward stage. Dimitri himself did as a foal.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. Only my understanding is that your father suffered far worse. The other colts called him ‘Baldy’ for an entire moon.”

  “Really?”

  Miss Emmert pulled him closer into her embrace. “Yes.”

  Whether it was her jasmine perfume, her soothing voice, or the reassuring news, Ornery found himself comforted as Miss Emmert stroked his coarse head. His hair had sprouted over the last few days and taken on a life all its own, thick and long enough to be called a mane.

  Before today, Ornery would have chaffed at that equine description. Now he rolled the idea around in his head. To think everything he went through, everything he had despised about himself, was not only normal, but expected! It would be nice to have his father around to explain such things. Ornery had enough questions to fill the next decade.

  Finally, Ornery snuggled down into Miss Emmert’s sheltering arms. He was running out of anger. Ornery felt strangely drained, and even more oddly, he felt a lightness that almost made him dizzy. Still, something nagged at him. Something that Miss Emmert had said that whizzed past him faster than a hungry hummingbird.

  “My father’s seen me?” Ornery asked in a shocked voice. He pulled out of the woman’s embrace, staring at her with wide-open eyes.

  Miss Emmert cleared her throat, obviously amused at his surprise. “Do you remember that trip we took to the Outer Reaches last summer?”

  Ornery nodded. It had been the most boring region they’d ever traveled through, just acres and acres of rolling fields of wildflower.

  “Remember how you told me no one would want our potions and creams?”

  “And I was right. They didn’t buy a single one!”

  Miss Emmert chuckled lightly. “Of course not. Why would they? Their healer is a student of mine. That natural spring of theirs is blessed by a powerful nymph.”

  “So?” Ornery became impatient until it dawned on him that they had no reason at all to travel so far from civilization, unless... “It was a rendezvous with my father!”

  “I knew you could catch on.” Miss Emmert patted his hand and turned to leave. “Now you’d best get cleaned up and put on your muff. We’ll be within sight of the town any moment.”

  Ornery threw on his scarf and hat, chasing after Miss Emmert into the wagon. He wanted to hear every last detail of his father’s secret visit. Cold air snapped his cheeks as he settled in beside his guardian. The lights of Last Hitch flickered on the distant horizon.

  Miss Emmert was right. At their present speed, they would reach the town before moonrise.

  “What did he... what did he say about...”

  “He was proud. He wrote a poem for you. I’m sure he will read it to you.”

  Ornery adopted a begging stance. “Oh please, please tell it to me it now!”

  Miss Emmert laughed lightheartedly. “Obviously you haven’t heard Centaur verse before. I’ll let your father embarrass himself, thank you.”

  All of Ornery’s questions jostled about in his head, jamming words at his lips. “But... but...”

  “Remember the year I made you a little birthday cake of alfalfa and oats?”

  “And then I didn’t get to eat it because my teeth changed back to human, and I could not chew so well.”

  “You remember throwing a tantrum and sleeping under the wagon?”

  Ornery could not help but smile. His previous behavior seemed so disproportionate now. It seemed like someone else had lived that life. Miss Emmert snapped the reins a bit. Ornery knew it was no longer to goad the horses, but for show if any of the town’s sentries looked their way. The wagon had slowed to almost a crawl as the horses, once again, made footprints in the snow before them. The town’s wall and brass-fitted gate were readily apparent.

  Smiling, Miss Emmert asked, “Do you still have that bit of slate you found in your pocket that next morning?”

  Ornery shrugged. “I think it’s in the wagon somewhere.”

  “Your father gave it to you that night and kissed you upon the cheek.”

  His hand flew up to his face. Ornery touched the spot Miss Emmert had pointed to. He had thought that memory was only a dream. Ornery could remember awakening slightly that night and someone leaning over him. Dear goddess, he had swatted the invading face away!

  “Don’t worry. Dimitri knew his beard tickled your skin.”

  Ornery blushed.

  Did Miss Emmert know everything? He didn’t have time to ask as the horses slowed to a walk. The town’s gate loomed before them, dark and uninviting. Only two small torches on the ram
part illuminated the area. A few feet from the gate, they stopped and awaited a guard — and waited, and waited.

  Ornery looked to Miss Emmert, who only shrugged. It was not at all unusual for them to arrive late to a town. Usually, a coin in the hand of the guard, and they were neatly through the gate.

  “Do you believe them so lax that they didn’t see our approach?” Ornery asked.

  “Nay. This far into the wilderness, they have men in the watchtowers, day and night. Something is wrong.”

  Miss Emmert slid down from the seat and carefully crossed the icy snow. It seemed the brewing storm had not hit here. The hard surface crackled and snapped beneath her boots. She was making enough noise to raise the whole town, let alone the gate’s guard. Yet no one appeared upon the rampart. Usually, a guard would at least peek out the smaller side gate and check on the town’s latest visitor. Strange.

  Ornery’s guardian strode forward and banged upon the shorter, less ornate guard’s door. There Miss Emmert stood for the span of a few heartbeats. When no answer was forthcoming, she banged again, this time much harder.

  “Camp outside ’til daylight,” a voice pled from inside the guard’s door.

  “A storm approaches, and we need to stable our animals!” Miss Emmert yelled back.

  “In the morn,” the voice said as it drifted away.

  Miss Emmert took her fist to the door again.

  “Go away,” the guard shouted back.

  “I will knock all night if you don’t, at the very least, speak to me face to face.”

  There was a pause and then the loud creaking of hinges long overdue for oiling. The guard looked shaken and skittish. “Now go.”

  He tried to push the door closed, but Miss Emmert leaned her ample weight against the wood and kept it open a crack. “What goes on here that you are so inhospitable?”

  “A girl. She’s been stolen right out from her daddy’s nose. The gates are locked until she’s found,” the guard stammered. He looked no older than Ornery.

  Miss Emmert’s voice took on a schooling tone. “We certainly could not have had any part in this kidnapping. We simply desire lodging.”

  The guard still looked unconvinced.

  Trying to explain further, Miss Emmert continued, “We were far from here when the poor child was abducted. By letting us in, you’ll have two more sets of eyes to find her.”

  “We don’t wants any strangers around, not tonight.”

  The guard gave a shove, almost dislodging Miss Emmert, but her boots were dug into the snow. The woman kept her footing. “I will have you reported,” Miss Emmert said between clenched teeth as she brought her full weight to bear against the door.

  “Look, lady, you don’t want to come in. You’re safer out there.”

  Concern crept into Miss Emmert’s voice. “Why?”

  The guard looked around him, then leaned in close. “A pall’s been cast over the town, Ma’am. Babies cry, and men shudder in their sleep. There’s dark goings on.”

  “I’m a healer. I can be of help.”

  The man vacillated for a moment but then straightened. “I’ve got my orders and —”

  Miss Emmert’s tone cracked like a whip. “Then send a runner to Hanger’s Mansion and explain why you’ve refused me entry.”

  “But... what...?” The guard was thrown into complete confusion.

  “Perhaps Madame Hesper herself will come out and chastise you.”

  The guard paled and gave the signal to raise the gate. Ornery clucked to the horses, and they moved towards the opening. Miss Emmert kept her foot in the guard’s door until the horses were past the threshold. Ornery went to stop the wagon, but Miss Emmert hit Nutmeg on the rump to keep the horses moving as she jumped aboard the rumbling wagon, a move which was well-timed, since the gate immediately began lowering.

  Ornery shrank deep inside his clothes. Inside the gates, the temperature was a good ten degrees cooler. The town was battened down. Not a single window overlooking the street had a shutter open. Yet along the back of Ornery’s neck, the hairs stood straight up, as if someone — no, something — evil was staring right at him. Even Miss Emmert kept her head down and her gaze upon the horses’ backs. Whatever was wrong in this town, Ornery did not want to get involved.

  ***

  “Perfect timing,” Viola chirped as they watched the gaily painted wagon pass by. “And look, the guard has left the smaller gate unlocked.”

  Crystalia wished she could be so delighted. The two girls were crammed into a tiny crevice in the baker’s wall, spying on the gate. Now that her departure was at hand, Crystalia’s stomach complained and begged to stay home. And she might have backed out of Viola’s plans had it not been for the constant itch of her palms. Fate had a nagging way of reminding Crystalia of her duty to the Hero. “Viola, maybe you should come along with me.”

  “Shh...” Viola said as she checked to be sure that the guards were still milling near the door. “We’ve been through this before—”

  “But I don’t mind you coming. I want you to.”

  “You’ve only one horse —”

  Crystalia was desperate. “We could ride double.”

  Viola turned and looked as stern as a schoolmarm. “Crystalia. We had a plan.”

  Crystalia backed away as Viola’s face transformed back to her old cheerful smile. Suddenly, her friend’s tone was light and giddy again.

  “Crysty, I truly wish I could come with you. I truly do. But how else are you going to get past the gate unless I stay behind? This is the only way.” Viola patted Crystalia’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You must give Traven a kiss for me. Promise?”

  Nodding, Crystalia hung her head. Viola’s logic was sound. If she was to leave tonight, it would have to be under Viola’s cover. Slowly, Crystalia pulled out a letter and handed it to Viola. “I... I didn’t want to just up and leave… and Madame Hesper not know why.”

  Viola took the proffered letter and gave Crystalia a hug. “I’ll give it to her on the morrow. For now, it is our good-bye.”

  Tears crested over her eyelids, and Crystalia felt the sting of salt water on her lips. Viola’s hug was warm and encompassing. The smell of the blonde’s rose-petal lotion seemed to embrace them both. How she would miss her dearest friend. Crystalia reminded herself that if she wished to find her perfect love, there were sacrifices to be made.

  “Good-bye,” Crystalia choked out.

  Viola wiped away tears. “Once you are safely out on the Plains, I’ll climb to the tallest spire and wave to you. So this is not our last farewell. All right?”

  Crystalia could not even fully answer. She just nodded with a jerk. If she was forced to speak again, she might abandon this quest. Viola must have felt the same, for she snuck away without another sound. Watching her friend sneak over to the guard post, Crystalia kept a teeny hope alive that Viola’s plan might not work, and they might get caught. If Viola could not keep the guards distracted long enough, it would not really be Crystalia’s fault if she did not go. Right?

  Shaking her head, Crystalia moved out from her hiding spot. Even if no one else ever knew of her cowardice, she would in her heart. How could she ever face Traven if she abandoned him now?

  No, the Hero called to Crystalia through the compass, and she was to join him.

  Laughter bubbled from the guard shack as Crystalia guided her horse out from between two buildings. Even with the blanket of snow on the ground, its steps rang out like church bells, but no one raised the alarm. Inching closer, Crystalia could see the smaller guard’s gate slightly ajar. Carefully, she began pushing it open, but the rusted metal screamed in protest. Frozen in place, Crystalia waited to be apprehended, but raucous laughter was the only thing that flowed from the guards’ quarters. Viola was doing a grand job of distracting the men.

  On a lark, she removed her glove. Crystalia remembered the door at Madame Hesper’s. Touching the door, she willed it to be new and oiled, but nothing happened. The hinges were still crusted
over and the wood-pocked. Crystalia tried again with equally depressing results. She was about to give up when the horse spooked, shoving her into the door.

  In a deafening screech, the hinges gave loose, and the door swung open as Crystalia stumbled through the archway. The only thing that kept the girl from falling was her grip on the horse’s reins. Unfortunately, the horse decided to buck and kick its way through the door.

  Frigid snowflakes collided with her cheek and bit into her tender skin. Skating on the slick ice, Crystalia ran into the horse’s side and clung to it for her life. Luckily, the horse sensed the capricious footing and slowed its antics. Crystalia swung up into the saddle as if she had done it a thousand times before, adrenaline fueling her muscles. She did not wait to hear if the alarm was raised. She just spurred the horse to the east and gave her mount the bit. In her panicked flight, Crystalia did not even have time to say good-bye to her birthplace.

  ***

  Jory paced across his office. Crystalia was still not found, and the smith’s wife had miscarried. It was not the couple’s first such tragedy. Since their second son, the woman could not seem to keep a child in her womb. Still, so close on the heels of Crystalia’s disappearance, the loss of the child only stirred the townsfolk into a greater fervor. Every guard looked wary, and the priests were locked in their various temples, praying for guidance.

  Jory desperately needed to find the master behind this rash of baneful events before the town tore itself apart.

  “Sir, there has been a breach of the gate.”

  The commander spun around and buckled his scabbard onto his belt. “Someone escaped the curfew?”

  “Nay. They demanded entry.”

  “Who?”

  The guard had lost that glow of excitement and stared down at his boots. “They said they were destined for Hanger’s Mansion.”

  “Madame Hesper’s?” Jory asked unnecessarily. He had heard the youth the first time. His fingers stopped working his belt, and he laid his sword back upon the table. “Was it a middle-aged woman and a young boy?”