by Spurrier, Jo
She drew a sharp breath, hope brightening in her eyes. ‘We can defeat him in a few weeks?’
‘Oh, you’re a long way from that point yet,’ Rasten told her. ‘I just want to make you strong enough that he can’t cripple you. Once this crisis is over we’ll work on the next step. But be warned, Little Crow, I’m going to run you until you drop. Your own foolishness has brought this upon us, and I won’t forget that. Don’t ever take this kind of chance again. I will not spend the rest of my life as Kell’s fuck-toy, and if you endanger my plans again I’ll cursed well kill your friends myself! Do you understand?’
When she didn’t reply at once, he found the pressure-point again and dug his fingers in hard enough to make her scream.
‘I hear you,’ she said when she could speak again. ‘But if you harm them, Rasten, I’ll kill you.’
He smiled as he reached for the pulley that raised and lowered the bar, and she shivered at the sight of it. ‘You can try,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s get to work.’
Chapter 13
From the mouth of the tunnel Delphine squinted at the hazy landscape, shrouded in freezing rain. Even that wet and miserable gloom was enough to sting her eyes. She huddled against the wall to let her watering vision adjust to the long-unseen light, while Ardamon’s men and Mira’s servants loaded their gear onto the horses.
She felt she ought to help. Hanging back like this with a pair of idle hands was embarrassing, as though she expected to be waited upon as she had in the past. Delphine had never thought herself particularly concerned with what others thought of her, but she couldn’t let these folk think she expected such treatment as her due. As she watched them lash bundles and baggage onto the packhorses, though, Delphine knew that she would only be in the way. ‘As useless as a spun-glass hammer,’ she muttered, hauling her saddlebags out of the way of a servant hurrying past, loaded down with kitbags and bedding.
‘Miss Delphine?’
Anoa was coming towards her, edging through the crowd of people and animals. ‘Floren has our horses ready; it’s time to mount up. And here, Isidro asked me to give you this.’ Anoa shook out a coat she’d been carrying over her arm, a garment the same dull grey hue as the drizzling sky. She was wearing a similar one, made of small patches of leather sewn together. Unlike the winter furs, which wrapped across the chest and could be folded back if the wearer grew too warm, this coat could only be pulled over the head like a shirt. Delphine took it with a murmur of thanks, scooped up her bags and followed Anoa through the scrum, biting her lip with apprehension every time the girl brushed past a horse’s rump. Wasn’t it dangerous to go so close when the beasts might kick?
Ardamon’s man was waiting for them — he took the bags and lashed them to the saddle, then showed Delphine how to adjust the stirrups. ‘You’ll want to put that on before you mount up, miss,’ he said, nodding to the strange and shimmery coat.
‘Oh, should I?’ Delphine asked. ‘Should I take the fur off first?’
‘No, no,’ Anoa said. ‘Leave it on. It’s a raincoat,’ she said, as though explaining to a simpleton. ‘It won’t keep your coat dry unless you wear it over the top.’
‘But won’t we be too warm?’ It was much warmer near the entrance than it had been in the chill depths of the mountain. As she waited for the party to get underway, Delphine had opened her coat to cool off from the effort of walking.
‘You’ll get cold soon enough sitting in a saddle, miss,’ the man said.
Anoa took the raincoat from her and bunched up its skirt. She tossed it over Delphine’s head and pushed the sleeves over her hands. ‘Now put your head through … there we are. Make sure it covers your collar and your hair. This is cursed miserable weather to get yourself wet.’
Once they’d finished dressing her as they would a clumsy child, the man turned her towards the horse. ‘Now put your foot in the stirrup and take a handful of mane …’
By the time they had her settled in the saddle, with her coat arranged so she was covered from head to knee in that strange grey leather, her cheeks had grown hot. See? she told herself as she made sure her bags were securely closed against the rain. Completely bloody useless. Being mounted gave her a better vantage-point and she searched the crowd for Isidro, finally picking him out deep in discussion with Mira and Ardamon. Delphine plucked and fidgeted with her horse’s mane as she wondered if she was making the right choice. Perhaps it would be better to give up and go home. She didn’t belong here — she never had — and if her true goal was to remake her life and build a family for herself in the empire, then she was wasting her time, and placing yet another burden on these folk who were already struggling to survive.
But before she completed the thought, Isidro looked up and turned, seemingly searching the cavern, and when he found her he rocked back on his heels and gave her a smile. It was weary and crooked, as though he didn’t dare let himself feel too much, but it was the first genuine smile she’d seen from him in weeks, and Delphine found herself smiling back. Why are you torturing yourself like this? a tiny voice asked inside her head. There’s no future for you there either. But the warmth the smile roused within her let her push the voice aside. Oh, why shouldn’t I pick the flowers while they bloom?
They set out a short time later, into weather that couldn’t decide if it was ice or rain. Delphine reached under the rainhood to pull her hat down to her eyebrows and her cowl up to her cheekbones. The soft fabric of the cowl began to collect ice at once, but the thread spun from the downy undercoat of the northern yaka held warmth even when wet.
They had been underway for a little while when Isidro rode back to fall in beside her. ‘How do you like our springtime, Delphi?’ he asked, his voice muffled by the ice-covered cowl.
‘It’s perfectly pleasant,’ she told him. ‘I hope it stays like this for weeks.’
He laughed at that, just a brief chuckle. ‘Unfortunately, it probably will.’
‘Oh, by the Good Goddess herself, please tell me you’re joking.’
‘I’m not. We wouldn’t normally ride in this weather, but time is against us. Well, at least it will help hide us from any scouts.’
The weather eased shortly after midday — the frozen rain falling in drizzling patches instead of a constant soaking misery. For some time Delphine had been hearing a strange grinding sound, a low and ominous growl, and since Isidro had returned to the head of the line she dropped back beside Anoa to ask what it could be.
The girl just shrugged. ‘Ice, probably,’ she said, leaving Delphine none the wiser. It was only when they descended into a river valley that Delphine understood what she meant. The river was full of jagged chunks of ice, jammed together in a heaving, grinding mass. Delphine’s heart sank at the sight of it. Of course she knew it was spring, and spring meant melting ice, but she had become so accustomed to using the northern rivers as roads that the sight was oddly dismaying.
When Mira ordered a halt and the riders dismounted, Delphine stomped around on the snow, trying to force blood back into her feet and hands. A couple of scouts rode off along the riverbank while some servants took axes towards the stand of trees above the valley, and Isidro and Ardamon walked down to the bank of the river, followed by men carrying buckets and an ice chisel. As they made their way down Isidro sought Delphine out and waved her down to join them.
By the time she reached them he and Ardamon were standing on the bank with arms folded, scowling at the groaning ice as the men chipped an opening with the chisel and dipped out buckets of water.
‘It doesn’t look good at all,’ Ardamon said.
‘What on earth caused this?’ Delphine asked as she came near.
Ardamon gave her that look, the same one Anoa and the warrior had given her when she fumbled with the raincoat, the look that said: How could anyone possibly be so dim? ‘It’s the Thaw,’ he said. ‘The ice begins to melt, and when it gets too weak, it breaks up.’
‘But why has it all jammed together like this?’ she asked, fixin
g her gaze on Isidro.
He shrugged. ‘There might be a log jam downstream, or a shallow patch where the ice has hung up on the bed. Or they might have choked together on a narrow bit of channel. There’s no way to know, and it could give way at any moment.’
‘Can we cross it?’
Ardamon laughed, and he put one foot on a chunk of ice and pushed. With a splash and gurgle of water, the ice bobbed and dipped in the flow. ‘You try to walk on that and it’ll capsize,’ he said. ‘If you go under that lot, I don’t like your chances of getting back to the surface again.’
‘I see,’ Delphine said. ‘What about elsewhere? If all the ice is here it must be clear upstream or down.’
‘This is too fresh,’ Isidro said. ‘It’s still cold enough to freeze again, but it’ll take days to get thick enough to cross — and that’s if the weather clears.’
‘How thick does it need to be?’
‘Two inches for a man, four for a horse, six for a team.’ Ardamon grunted. ‘If we break a channel through the glare ice the horses could swim, but we’d need to get the people and gear over without soaking us all …’
Delphine heard the crunch of boots approaching and turned to see Mira coming their way. ‘The kettle will go on as soon as the fire’s lit,’ she said, hearing the tail of the conversation. ‘But it’ll take a while with damp wood. Come and have a hot drink, and we’ll think of something.’
‘Delphi,’ Isidro said, ‘can’t you make damp wood burn?’
‘Of course I can,’ Delphine said. ‘And I can get that kettle hot a damn sight faster, too.’
In just a few moments Delphine had kindled a blaze on a platform of green wood, and then she boiled the kettle without bothering to wait for the fire to heat it. Wide-eyed, Mira’s servants dipped out the first bowl and offered it to their lady, but she passed it at once to Delphine, who took it with an embarrassed duck of her head. The way they all stared made her feel like a performing dog.
To cover her discomfort, Delphine turned back to the river as she cupped her hands around the bowl and breathed in the fragrance of the tea. ‘Can we go down to the bank?’ she asked Isidro. ‘I have an idea that I’d like to investigate.’
‘Of course.’
Delphine stood at the edge of the ice and considered until she’d drained her bowl. Then she absentmindedly handed it to Isidro and crouched down to peer at the opening the men had cut to dip out the water.
The water was warmer than the ice. The ice insulated it, helping retain the warmth even as it melted. Boiling water was a simple task, but making ice was a skill more in demand in Akhara. In summer, the wealthy enjoyed frozen confections, and street-sellers made a brisk trade with chilled refreshments.
Delphine gathered her power and froze the hole with a crust of ice. What did Ardamon say? Two for a man, four for a horse, six for a team. She doubted she had the power to make an ice-bridge thick enough to carry the whole party across open water, but could she freeze these blocks together and keep them stable long enough to cross?
Only one way to find out. She turned her attention to the nearest chunk, the one Ardamon had set bobbing in the flow. It was butted against the ice-strewn bank, and with a throb of power Delphine fused it in place, and then stepped onto the ice. It was tipped at a rakish angle, but as she stamped and then jumped up and down on it, it felt perfectly solid. Chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip, Delphine went to the edge and considered the next step.
‘Delphi, be careful,’ Isidro said. ‘If you go under we won’t have any way to find you. You’ll have to get yourself out again.’
‘I understand,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think that will be necessary.’ With another pulse of power, she anchored the neighbouring block, and cautiously stepped onto it. ‘You know, I think this is going to work.’
‘I thought you might find a way.’
Something in his voice made her turn and consider him. The elation that had enlivened him on hearing of Cam’s escape had faded to weariness, and in the steely light he looked worn down, aged beyond his years.
‘How are you coping, Issey?’
She had never used the intimate form of his name. She hadn’t intended to do it then, it just slipped from her lips unbidden.
He sighed, pulled off his hat, and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I … I don’t dare get my hopes up too much. It’s a long way, and a bad time of year to travel, and Cam …’
Delphine went back to the bank and took his hand in both of hers. ‘We’ll give him the best chance we possibly can. I’ll get you across this river, one way or another, and then I’ll get you across the one after that. I promise you, we will not give up.’
The crossing took well over an hour. It would have been less, but Mira strictly rationed their supplies, and Delphine began the task with only a chunk of bannock to warm her belly. Two-thirds of the way across, Isidro had to find some pemmican to shore up her waning reserves. It was very peculiar stuff to Delphine’s palate, made of dried meat and summer berries bound together with rendered fat. She had tried it before and found it frankly revolting, but with her hands shaking and her belly growling with hunger, the rich fat and the tart sweetness of the berries gave her the burst of energy she needed to get them across.
After another mug-up, the water boiled this time by natural means as Delphine rested, they headed south on the river’s western bank. By mid-afternoon the rain had turned the snow to a sticky, melting slush that clung to everything it touched. They pushed on through the dampness and the miserable cold until evening, when Ardamon finally called a halt. By then the fall was turning back into snow and the air had grown even colder.
It had been a long time since Delphine last spent a day in the saddle, and she was stiff and sore as well as chilled to the bone, with her clothes damp and her skin clammy. One of the men led her wet and smelly horse away, leaving Delphine clutching her saddlebags and once again feeling useless as she watched the folk around her go about their incomprehensible chores.
After a moment Anoa came to guide her to the largest of the tents. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Delphine asked the girl as she stumbled along on numb feet, fighting to keep her teeth from chattering. ‘Even a foreigner like me must be good for something …’
Anoa glanced back with eyebrows raised in a quirk of amusement. ‘Oh, you’ve helped already, miss. We’d still be on the other side of that river, otherwise.’
The interior of the tent was brightly lit but damp, as the spruce boughs laid down for a floor were covered with melting ice. Amaya fed dry splinters and twigs into the newly kindled blaze in the stove, and the air was just beginning to warm. Other women bustled about, bringing in the last of the bags and bedding and setting up the camp kitchen on a low table behind the stove. A few of them began to strip off, exchanging wet and clammy clothing for dry garments pulled from their packs. Delphine hastily turned away, feeling a flush creep over her cheeks, and saw Isidro coming towards her.
He took the saddlebags from her arms. ‘Delphi, you look half frozen. You’ll feel better if you put on some dry clothes, and if you hang these up now they’ll dry by morning.’
She knew he was right, but as he spoke, Ardamon came into the tent and went to the stove, where Anoa was stirring a pot set on the hob to heat. He said a few words to her and crouched down, warming his hands at the oven door. She could perhaps bring herself to strip off in front of the women, but where Ardamon and the other men could see? She was cold, exhausted, hungry and sore, and altogether Delphine felt on the verge of bursting into tears.
Isidro read her expression and glanced over his shoulder to see what had caused it. ‘I’ll hold up a blanket for you,’ he said. ‘You’ll feel better once you’re warm and dry.’
He did just that, although with only one good hand he had to tuck one corner between a pole and the tent hide to make a screen. When she was dressed again, she sat on her oilcloth-wrapped bedroll and pulled on two pairs of fresh socks while Isidro changed his shirt a
nd jacket. By then, a thicket of wet laundry had sprouted from lines strung between the tent-poles as damp clothes were hung to dry, but when Isidro gathered up his and Delphine’s gear to add to it, Mira came and took them from his arms. ‘I can take care of that, Issey. I know you’ve missed your usual lessons, but we have a little time before the meal is ready, so you can attend to them now if you wish.’
Isidro turned to Delphine with one eyebrow raised. ‘Are you too tired, Delphi?’
‘Not at all,’ she said, shaking herself. ‘And you’ve been making such good progress, it would be a shame to let it slip now. Just let me fetch the book …’
He made a good effort, but after the first quarter-hour, Delphine could see it was a waste of time. Isidro was too weary to concentrate, and the bustle and activity of the tent was an unaccustomed distraction after weeks in the quiet and stillness of the Spire. The people around them were no help either. Some, like Mira, Anoa and Amaya, had grown indifferent to mage-craft, but most reacted to the globes of power Isidro summoned with gasps and yelps of surprise and even shrieks of terror when they popped or fizzled as his control slipped.
After a while it became such an irritant that Delphine suggested he take a break, or perhaps simply read the text instead of trying and failing the last set of exercises she’d set him, but Isidro refused, even though his mood was growing darker with every attempt.
In the end Delphine took the book from him and firmly closed it. ‘You’re too tired. You’ve barely slept these last few weeks, and now you’ve been up since the middle of last night —’