Faint light came in from a window at the far end of the hall. The storm was coming on fast. She jiggled the knob of the door second from the right; it was locked. She went to work with the lock picks, feeling every second as if someone were going to come up the stairs after her. The servants’ stair was the only access to this floor, and she was trapped like a bird in a cage, waiting for the cat to pounce.
The seconds stretched out. She was out of practice, and it was going to cost both of them their lives.
The lock snapped open. Telaine opened the door, wincing at the creak, and shut it behind her.
The chilly room, which was about eight feet square, held nothing but a bedframe with a bare mattress and a bedside table. Sarah lay, tied hand and foot and with a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth, on the mattress, dressed only in her shift and barefoot. She had been crying and began to do so again when she saw Telaine. The light from the dirty window above the bed made her look ghostlike, pale and weak.
Telaine whispered, “I’m taking the gag out, but you can’t say anything, all right? Nothing.” Sarah nodded. Telaine removed the handkerchief and helped the girl to sit up. “I’m going to untie you and then we’ll figure out what to do,” Telaine said. She removed the girl’s bonds in what seemed to take forever; she should have brought her throwing knife with the lock picks. She swore under her breath. She was slow and careless. Stay focused, Telaine.
With Sarah rubbing her wrists and ankles, Telaine paced and thought furiously. Sarah couldn’t walk home dressed like that. She would freeze before they made it halfway back to Longbourne. She couldn’t stay in that room, and there was no place else to hide her. If the Baron found out she was missing and went after her—which he would have to do if he wanted to protect his secret—she’d be easy to spot, struggling through the snow.
Telaine looked out the window at the lowering pines. If Sarah could go down the stairs to the kitchen entrance, get to the cover of the trees, she’d be able to follow the edge of the forest back to Longbourne even if the storm came up—but no, she’d still be mostly naked, barefoot, and weak. And Telaine couldn’t go with her, because she had to be seen walking out the doors of the manor if she wanted to protect herself from the Baron’s rage.
No. Telaine didn’t have to walk out the doors. It only had to look like she did.
She tossed her cloak on the mattress and began undressing and tossing her clothes at Sarah. “Put these on,” she told the girl, who looked at her in bewilderment. “Do it, Sarah, I’ll explain in a moment.”
Clad only in her bodysuit and her thick wool socks, Telaine twisted the knob at her neck and heat begin to spread over her body. She folded the corner of her cloak around her elbow and, with a quick jab, smashed the window glass, then picked up a rope and sawed at it with one of the shards until it frayed and split.
She dropped the ropes on the mattress and unlatched the window, pushing it open, then shoved at the snow beneath it to make it look as if something heavy had gone over the windowsill. The window was small, possibly too small even for a person Sarah’s size to fit through, and it was a sheer drop down four stories to the ground below, but Telaine hoped it would distract the Baron enough that he wouldn’t turn his wrath on the servants.
Sarah looked confused, and afraid, but she put on Telaine’s clothes obediently. She was only a few inches shorter than Telaine and Telaine rolled up the extra length of trouser around her ankles. She fastened her cloak around Sarah’s neck, wrapped it close around the girl, and said, “Follow me. All the way down. And no noise.”
When they emerged from the stairs into the kitchen, Mistress Wilson looked at them both as if they had fallen through the ceiling. The kitchen maids huddled together, eyes wide, mouths shut. “Mistress Wilson, this girl needs your help,” Telaine said. “Those guards saw me walk in here. I need them to see me walk out. All I want is for you to walk with Sarah through the doors and bid her goodbye using my name. When you see her reach the bottom of the stairs, come back inside and go back to whatever you were doing. Please, Mistress Wilson, this isn’t going to work without you.”
“What are you…wearing?” she asked in a faint voice.
“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you next, all right? Can you do this, Mistress Wilson?”
The woman nodded hesitantly, then, with a look at Sarah’s face, more firmly.
Telaine grasped her hands. “Thank you. Thank you. Sarah, listen to me.” She took the girl’s shoulders and turned her to face her. “Go straight down the stairs toward the road. I left lots of footprints for you to follow. Put on the snowshoes, get on the road and don’t stop walking until you reach your father’s house, understand? Don’t look behind you. Just walk. I’ll see you soon.”
She helped Sarah put the boots on, then tucked the long trousers into them and, after a moment’s thought, wedged the lock picks back into the left boot. The throwing knife was still in the right—it would be useless for what she was about to do. She gave Sarah a hug. “You’ve been braver than anyone should ever have to be. Now, be brave just a little longer and—go home.”
“Let me get you—” Mistress Wilson began, and a bell jangled nearby, making her go white. “That’s the last course.”
“We have to go,” Telaine said.
“Let me at least—surely we have clothes that will fit you—”
“Trust me,” Telaine said, “I’ll be warm enough. And we don’t have time if we’re going to outrun this storm.”
“Wait,” Mistress Wilson said. She went around the corner and came back a few seconds later with a pair of old boots and a worn jacket. “You can’t go out there in just those socks. These aren’t much, but better than…”
She held the boots out to Telaine. The leather was worn, and they were too big, but Telaine shoved her feet into them as Mistress Wilson and Sarah left the kitchen. She wrapped the laces twice around her ankles, snugging the boots against her skin, and took a few steps. No worse than walking in snowshoes. They’d have to do.
She went around the corner to the kitchen door and opened it a crack. She already knew it was not visible from the front door, but in her dark gray bodysuit and the tan jacket, she felt horribly outlined against the white snow. If the sun hadn’t yet set, it was covered by the pendulous clouds that looked as if they might drop their snowy burden at any moment.
She rubbed her hands together, trying to keep them warm. This was the craziest thing she’d ever done. She heard the big door open and Mistress Wilson call goodbye to “Lainie,” counted slowly to ten, then made her way as quickly as she could through the snow toward the rear of the manor and the black tree line.
No one cried out after her, so the guards’ attention had to be on Sarah. Telaine was probably safe. The guards weren’t looking at her, the servants wouldn’t dally at the windows, and the Baron’s chair faced away from the tall windows overlooking the rear of the manor, though it would be just her luck if he happened to look out as she was slogging past.
She reached the tree line and ducked past the evergreen branches, then stood for a moment, breathing heavily. She didn’t have much time—in fact, she didn’t have any time to stand there catching her breath. She turned south, trudging through the ankle-deep drifts and dodging branches; it was slow, and awkward, but she had to stay within the trees until she was out of sight of the manor. The storm was coming, and she needed to move quickly. Dear heaven, please let it hold off until we’re both home, she prayed, and tried to slog faster.
She had no idea how long the route through the trees would take. Sarah would be in greater danger if the storm hit while she was on the open road, but Telaine’s path ran through rougher terrain, so not only was it longer than the road, it was slower.
She rubbed her hands together again, then blew on them. It’s so cold, she thought. Maybe she’d been cocky to reject Mistress Wilson’s offer of clothing, but there just hadn’t been time. She prayed again to ungoverned heaven that she hadn’t done something fatally stupid.
She remembered how helpless Sarah had looked in that tiny, cold room, and righteous anger surged through her, warming her. They would both make it. They had to.
Though her face and hands were cold, and the boots weren’t as efficient a protection from the snow as she’d hoped, the rest of her felt as warm as if she were still wearing her cloak. Warm, but strangely cold at the same time, near her feet. Well, the boots weren’t exactly waterproof, and there was a crack in one of the soles, but surely they wouldn’t have gotten wet so quickly?
Telaine stopped to feel along her ankles, and her fingers came away damp. She stopped walking and closed her eyes, cursing her stupidity. Of course the bodysuit was wet. The Device was melting the snow as she waded through it, and the thin cotton wasn’t water resistant.
She’d known this would happen, it had happened during their testing, but she and Josephine hadn’t done anything about the flaw because they hadn’t anticipated anyone being stupid enough to wear nothing but the bodysuit while wading through snowdrifts.
Telaine started walking again. There was nothing she could do about it now except stay out of the higher drifts. She had to get to shelter as quickly as possible. She pushed herself harder. Be grateful you’ve got the trees, where the snow hasn’t piled so high. Be grateful for the suit at all. By heaven, it’s cold.
She slogged along, feeling her ankles go numb and her fingers begin to tingle with cold. Gloves, she thought, gloves that are warm only on the inside, lined with something waterproof so your hands don’t get soaked. This was the most foolish idea she’d ever had, and she looked forward to telling her friends about it while she put her feet up by the fire at the tavern. Even Ben would eventually see the humor, once he got past the part where she risked hypothermia and death to save a life. That was a good thing, wasn’t it?
She came to where the tree line made a sharp turn to the left, away from the road and from Longbourne. Now what? She could keep following the trees, but that would take far too long. Cutting across country, trying to keep a straight line toward Longbourne or heading west toward the now-invisible road, was as dangerous in a different way.
Telaine shivered and rubbed her arms, trying to keep her fingers warm. The wires of the Device rolled under her hands. They were sturdier and better secured, thank heaven, than the prototype. It would have to be the trees. She couldn’t afford to be caught in the open when the storm arrived. She could compromise by striking out in the open whenever the tree line veered too far away from Longbourne, like now. She rubbed her arms once more, carefully, and started walking.
The snow was up to her knees now, and so was the freezing cold, and it was taking her forever to slog through it. Her calves were wet; she hadn’t been as careful as she’d thought. Maybe she should have taken the longer route under the trees instead. She couldn’t feel her nose or the tips of her fingers. This was definitely the stupidest idea she’d ever had.
Then the storm hit.
The world went gray. Wind whipped around her body and howled in her ears. She stood still, not sure how far she was from the forest. She was certain she was still facing the right direction, so she struck out again, feeling ahead until her grasping fingers were stung by thousands of prickling needles lashed by the wind. She clutched at the branch, hauled herself into the shelter of the trees, and stood a moment, panting with fear.
The trees grew thickly enough that the storm’s fury was lessened; she even felt warmer, though she was sure that was an illusion. She could move deeper into the forest, find shelter and wait the storm out—
—and end up dead, if this were one of those storms that lasted for days. She couldn’t take the risk. She would have to keep moving south, and she would have to travel outside the forest’s shelter or she wouldn’t be able to see Longbourne when she neared it. You can’t see anything at all in this weather, Telaine thought, but at this point she had few options left to her. She took a few more deep breaths, made sure the dial on her Device was turned to full, and went back into the storm.
She kept on walking, keeping her mind occupied with plans for retooling the suit, trying not to think about how the cold wetness was spreading. It would need a second layer that didn’t become warm, or was waterproof, or both. Something dark loomed up before her; she barely avoided running into a tree and instead knocked its load of snow onto her head. She shook frantically to get it off before it melted.
More walking. She wondered how Sarah was doing. Had she made it home before the storm broke? Had anyone started to look for Sarah? Had anyone started to look for her?
A tugging at her frozen calves told her she’d reached the low rise that ran parallel to Longbourne. She was getting close, though she couldn’t tell how much farther she still had to go. Time no longer existed; there was nothing but one foot after another, one step through the snow, then the next. Her suit was wet to her thighs and it was getting harder to feel her legs.
She tucked her hands under her armpits, reasoning that if the suit shed heat like that, she might as well take advantage of it. She ran into a tree and stood hugging it for a moment, afraid she might fall down if she let go. She was so tired.
“Don’t stop moving,” her father said. “Remember what I taught you. There’s nothing to stop you freezing to death but your own two feet.”
“I don’t remember where our camp is,” she told him. It sounded as if he were right in front of her, but the snow was flying into her face so rapidly she couldn’t see him as more than an outline that looked more like a tree trunk than a man.
“Don’t stop moving,” he repeated. “You’ll find it, talaina, winter flower, but you have to keep walking or you’ll find me first.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, but let go of the tree and took a step in his direction, then another. Her father moved when she did, always a few paces ahead of her, and she reached out to him, but he wouldn’t take her frozen hand…or maybe he had, and she couldn’t feel it.
She started to shake all over and wrapped her arms around her chest to contain the shivering. The wetness had spread above her hips. Her feet were numb now; the only way she knew they were still in contact with the ground was the jolt that went through her knees every time she took a step.
She stumbled over something, a stump or a rock, and landed on her hands and knees. Have to keep my body out of the snow, she thought, it will make me colder. She wasn’t sure it was possible to get any colder. “Papa, help me,” she cried, but Owen Hunter was gone, and she was afraid to cry because her tears might freeze her eyes shut, and then she really would be dead. She heaved herself up and, after three tries, made it back on her feet. The world was going darker gray by the minute. She smelled flowers. Lilac…and mint…
It was her source. She was close to the forge.
With renewed energy, she followed her nose until she could plunge her hands into the source, wishing it were warm. Ben’s house was…from here, it was to the right, maybe fifty yards away. She’d have to leave the security of the forest and the rise. She turned, stretched her hands out in front of her, and stepped forward, feeling her way like a blind woman.
Just as she’d begun to think she’d missed it completely and was wandering out through the streets, something knocked the breath out of her and she bent double. The forge rail.
She grasped it with her two frozen hands and followed it around the corner, then into the forge. She over the anvil and the empty quenching bucket and groped along the side of the house for the back door.
She held the knob and banged on the door, not sure how hard she’d knocked because her hands were numb. She banged again. No answer. She tried the knob; the door opened and swung inward. The fire was out, the house cold and empty.
Her addled brain panicked. The storm was so powerful it had swept the inhabitants of Longbourne away. Ben had gotten tired of waiting for her and had gone down the mountain himself; he was having tea with her uncle and explaining what the hardie hole on the anvil was for. She was the only living crea
ture in Longbourne, and soon she wouldn’t even be that.
She sat in the relative quiet of the open doorway and tried to think. Ben’s house was shelter, but she was too numb to start a fire and if she curled up on his sofa, he’d find her frozen to death when he returned. She could barely think, she was so cold. She had stared so hard at the darkness, for so long, she was starting to see specks of light glowing against the background. Or was that a real light? It might be Eleanor’s window.
She stood up, remembering to close Ben’s door—he wouldn’t want his house full of snow when he came back from tea with the King—and made her way across the forge again. At the rail, she hesitated, then struck out across the great empty space that separated the forge from Eleanor’s home.
The glow brightened. It didn’t illuminate her surroundings, but it gave her something to aim for. It was so hard to move her legs. Snow crusted her eyelashes and eyebrows and tried to plug her ears, but the howl of the wind buffeted it away. She closed her eyes to keep the snowflakes out—it wasn’t as if she could see anything—and took two more steps and ran face first into the side of the house.
A warm trickle ran down her upper lip, and she tasted hot blood. Amazing that she had anything warm left in her. She slid to her left along the wall until she came to Eleanor’s door and pounded on it. Her fists were numb. She kept pounding. Would they know it was her and not the wind? She fumbled for the knob and found herself sliding down the door to the ground. Mustn’t stop moving, she told herself, but her legs weren’t listening.
She toppled forward as the door opened and light blazed out. “Who—” someone said, and several hands helped her to her feet. “Lainie?” someone else said, and she was lifted and carried into the blissful warmth and light of Eleanor’s house.
“You boys, upstairs. You too, Ben. Especially you. Set her down by the fire. Fern, fetch blankets. Marie, get a hot compress going.” Eleanor removed the jacket and began unbuttoning the bodysuit, saying, “I might have guessed if anyone was going to try a stunt like wandering around in her underwear through a blizzard, it would be you.”
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