Followed by Frost

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  “Djmal,” he said. “It is closer to Kittat than anywhere we have been, in the canyons.”

  “Is it small?”

  “Very.”

  “My town is small, too,” I said. “There were three hundred people or so when I left.”

  His dark eyes shifted from the fire to me. He hesitated before speaking, but when he did it was without abashment.

  “Tell me, if you will, why you are how you are. It is apparent you were not always Svara Idyah. Why has this winter come to follow you so intimately?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but only chilled air passed my lips. It would be a long time before I explained to someone Mordan’s curse. Over the years I had realized I’d done many things to deserve his curse, whether or not he knew it.

  After some thought, I answered, “Winter is the dearest friend to those who have chosen to be cold.”

  He narrowed his eyes, but I did not explain. Standing, I brushed off my skirt. Using my right hand, I signed, Thank you for talking to me, and excused myself to my quarters.

  I do not know how late Lo stayed up, but I managed to get an hour of rest before Eyan banged against my door at dawn for our two-week return trip to Mac’Hliah.

  I did not tell him how terrified I was of what would happen to me once we arrived.

  CHAPTER 14

  Lo did not slow the soldiers when we reached the city; they staggered to a halt on their own, awed at the sight before them. I peered over their tall shoulders to see it for myself, and a smile broke across my face.

  Fresh water ran down the mountain slopes that cradled Mac’Hliah, and I dare say I saw a few struggling patches of green among the cliffs. Not enough time had passed for the water to bolster farming, but the market—the almost straight line of color that cut through the center of the city—seemed a little fuller, the people a little livelier.

  Lo gave me an almost wry look before shouting to the men in Hraric and leading us down the sandy slopes into the capital, through the winding streets to that exquisite palace that shimmered against the breast of the mountains. Imad, dressed rather plainly for a prince in long khalat robes of teal and plum, welcomed us warmly on the steps of his home. He even embraced Lo, who stood a full head taller than him, and bowed to me. He was a prince, so the gesture humbled me and left me speechless.

  “The pools have been refreshed, Smeesa,” Imad exclaimed, gesturing to the mountains behind us. “The leopard pools have been dry so long, but your snow has filled them, and will continue to fill them.” He clasped my gloved hands. “You must stay here; I beg you. Should you wish to return to the Northlands, I will of course grant your wish, but I beg you to stay. Even if the drought ends tomorrow, the water will make Zareed prosper. Do you see?”

  He released my hands and rubbed his own together, warming them.

  “But she cannot stay in the city,” said an older man lingering behind him, his head and face shaved clean like Eyan’s. He was dressed more richly than Imad, despite the heat. For a moment I supposed him to be the king, but no one bowed, and Imad had described his father as being very old. This man looked middle-aged at most.

  Imad nodded, thumbing the hoop in his left ear. “I have considered that. Smeesa, my adviser, Kechak.”

  The man nodded, as did I.

  “Do not think me ungrateful,” Kechak said in heavily accented Northlander, “for your services here. But Mac’Hliah will not survive under constant snowfall, and the cold will throw off the balance of the land. Tar Tarra”—the term meant Mother Nature—“did not intend for Zareed to be so temperate.”

  “Come inside, Smeesa,” Imad said, gesturing with both hands. “And we will all discuss it. Lo, please excuse your men—their journey has been hard. A few days’ paid rest will see them well.”

  Eyan yelped a solo cheer behind me.

  I followed Imad and Kechak up to a wide room on the second floor, where another adviser, Talim, sat waiting for us at a long table. I had the impression that these men had been against Imad’s mission to find me. But if that had been the case, they regarded me much more warmly now that the land was thriving.

  I, of course, agreed to stay in Zareed, for there was nothing in Iyoden I wanted to return to—nothing I could return to, save for the empty mountains, hunting dogs, and Sadriel’s visits. After a meal and some discussion, Imad decided on some caves in the Ohpi, or “Finger,” Mountains northeast of Mac’Hliah. They were far enough for my snowstorms not to affect the city but close enough that, should I be needed, I could be easily reached. That, and the mountains would continue to collect snow and provide runoff throughout the year. I was wary about my new home, but Imad gave me his word that it would be comfortable. I stayed in the palace for three more days while Imad’s men made arrangements for me. During that time my storm refreshed the city’s runoff but also drove families back into their mud-brick homes. I imagined many of them were happy to see me leave.

  I did not see Imad the day of my move—Aamina told me he was working out border delegations in his father’s stead with Paeil, a small coastal country to the west. Aamina, a woman in her late forties with hair dark as onyx and a mouth full of conversation, had been appointed as one of my suppliers, a servant of sorts who would bring food and other necessities to my new home. I felt awkward to accept such an arrangement—after all, I had learned to live on my own—but Imad had insisted on it. Before I left, Aamina introduced me to Rhono, a stout woman with a pursed mouth, and Havid, a tall, thin man with a long neck and short hair, both of whom would also assist me in my new residence. Neither seemed happy to meet me nor pleased with their new line of work. Rhono actually crossed herself and tapped her shoulders before I even left the room. I pretended not to notice, but anxiety pressed in on me from all sides until I was forced to breathe slowly through my mouth just to hold my calm. Aamina asked if I was all right, and I assured her that I was. I did not want her to worry, though I was relieved she would be the one to help me settle into my new home.

  My belongings had already been loaded onto my choice camel, and when I left the palace with Aamina, I was surprised to find Lo securing my load—I had not expected him to be my escort. He had shaved and trimmed his hair, and donned a fresh uniform of indigo sewn with mail. A heavy, curved sword hung at his left hip.

  “Do you have everything?” he asked in Northlander.

  I glanced to Aamina, who didn’t speak that tongue, and nodded. I had little to bring with me and could not bring myself to ask Imad for anything more.

  The three of us walked down the steps of the palace, Lo guiding his camel and mine. My storm, which blew and twirled about us, had left the earth slick beneath the animals’ feet. Aamina and I held on to the straps of my camel’s saddle as we picked our way through the half-shoveled roads beneath the palace. The snow soaked my slippers, and I knew Aamina had to be freezing despite the extra layers she wore. I apologized to her, but she merely shook her head and reassured me that she was fine. Fortunately, after some walking, we outstripped the worst of the storm and the winds died down. The earth suddenly dried beneath our feet, and I imagined it felt much warmer to the others.

  Lo halted the camels between a few low-roofed houses and had them both kneel down. He helped Aamina onto his own animal. As I approached my blanketed mount, however, I heard a noise that froze me in place.

  Barking.

  I whirled around, stumbling over my own feet, as two long-legged dogs came racing down the street, the wispy hair of their ears and tails blowing in their self-made wind. Three boys chased after them, waving sticks in the air.

  I stopped breathing. My leg still bore the marks of the basset hound’s bite from that long-ago day when the two hunters had come for me in the mountains. My mind screamed at me to run.

  I cried, a mewing sound with no air, and stumbled backwards, tripping over the folded legs of my camel.

  The dogs bolted for me. I flung both arms over my head and held an icy breath.

  I heard the faint scraping of metal
, and the dogs’ gallop slowed. My heart racing, I glanced up and saw Lo standing over me, his thick, curved sword in his right hand. The tall dogs stopped and regarded him warily.

  I shivered.

  The three boys, none older than perhaps fourteen, caught up to the animals and snatched them by the thick woven collars around their necks. Their eyes bugged at the sight of Lo’s sword.

  He sheathed the toothed blade. “Keep your animals under control,” he growled, “especially so close to the city limits. You disrespect these women who are in the service of your sheikh.”

  Trembling, I forced myself to my feet and gawked at Lo. The children’s gazes moved between Lo and myself, and they gushed out an apology before darting back the way they had come, tugging their animals with them.

  “I-I’m sorry,” I said, covering my face and willing myself not to cry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s all right,” Lo said, his tone softer than when he’d addressed the boys. “I would have gone around this area had I known dogs frighten you. There are a lot of them here.”

  I tried to swallow, to wet my frozen throat, but I couldn’t. I only nodded, focusing my energy on keeping back my tears. Aamina watched me with an almost maternal concern, but she didn’t speak.

  “I do not think they would have hurt you,” he offered.

  “There were men in Iyoden who feared what I am,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I scrambled onto my camel’s saddle with little grace. “Men with dogs.”

  I left it at that, and Lo didn’t ask me to explain, only nodded his understanding. He took his own seat behind Aamina and guided us out of the city, following the Finger Mountains north.

  I recognized my cave before we reached it—its entrance stood high and narrow, much like the eye of a needle, and a wooden door had been fitted just inside of it. When we stopped and climbed off our camels, I hesitated to approach it, but Aamina led the way as Lo unpacked my belongings from the camel.

  I had not known what to expect—after all, it was a cave—but the reality exceeded my wildest imaginings.

  The room inside was about the size of my home in Euwan but narrower, stretching back about thirty paces. A bed with a thick mattress sat against the left wall, and a beautiful stone table was positioned against the right, complete with three chairs. Thick rugs hid the rocky floor, and long draperies masked most of the walls. They alternated red, cream, and white, some decorated with inky depictions of Mac’Hliah itself. A white drapery, ironically, depicted the profile of a dog. The cavern’s ceiling did not quite meet itself, leaving a long crack overhead. It had been covered with what appeared to be a thick canvas, which let in the soft gray glow of storm-filtered sunlight.

  “This . . . is amazing,” I said as Aamina lit a tall glass lamp in the corner, illuminating a short red chair with high armrests and a plum-polished wooden cupboard. When I rushed over to look inside, I saw it held a variety of dishes and food. There were even animal skins filled with water, not that I needed it. My snow had always been enough for me. Closer to the door I noticed a small fireplace filled with coals, its chute drilled into the rock.

  Lo opened the door, a load of blankets and clothing in one arm. I hurried to him and accepted the items myself, though he seemed hesitant to hand them over. His gold earrings glimmered in the lamplight.

  He glanced around and smiled. “Our sheikh has outdone himself.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I agreed, turning in a full circle as I took in the effect once more. “I can’t imagine what it must have cost . . .”

  “Now, don’t worry about that,” chided Aamina. “I’ll be back in three days; Rhono will come to you tomorrow, and Havid after that.”

  “Oh, I won’t need—”

  “They’ll come all the same. Just in case.”

  I smiled. “Thank you. Really.” I glanced to Lo, remembering his swift response with the dogs. Though I believed he was right and they had been no real threat to me, I appreciated how quick he had been to protect me. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “I imagine Prince Imad will pay his respects shortly and see you settled in.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  Lo left to retrieve the rest of my things—my books from home and some medical supplies. Before he and Aamina left, he waved his hand at me, signing, You will be safe here.

  I signed back, Thank you, but I didn’t think he saw it.

  CHAPTER 15

  “You don’t know what luxury is.”

  Sadriel startled me from my reading. Now that I was alone, he had wasted no time in coming to see me; the sun had not yet set behind my cavern.

  He walked around the interior of the cave, studying the drapes. “You think this is nice? I suppose it’s . . . quaint, in its own way.”

  “Imad put a lot of work into this for me.”

  Sadriel laughed. “Imad’s servants put a lot of work into it, and they only did so to make a few coins.” His amber eyes settled on me. “In my realm, your chamber pot would be made of rubies.”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  “Why?” he asked, pacing the length of the room. “Because it insults your desert prince’s interior decorating, or because it tempts you?”

  I shut my book and glared at him. “Do you really think such a thing would tempt me? Where have you been the last three years, Sadriel?”

  “Fine clothes will change a person,” he said, rubbing his chin. “They might change you yet.”

  His words stuck in my ears. But I have changed, I thought. Haven’t I?

  I shook the thoughts from my head. “I am grateful for the clothes I’ve been given. They keep me from hurting anyone.”

  “But they do not warm you,” he said. “I could take you somewhere where mortal concepts like warm and cold don’t matter.”

  I picked up my book with gloved hands and squeezed it. “Please leave.”

  “You want to discard me for your new friends?” Sadriel laughed. “They’re so unrefined.”

  “And the company of the dead would be preferable?”

  He grinned.

  I took a deep, cool breath. “Your tactics won’t work on me, Sadriel. Why must you torture me so? Do I really still ‘amuse’ you after so long?”

  “It would amuse me more if you danced. But I know others who are less prudish than you, Smitha. Until we meet again.”

  His chuckle echoed between the cavern walls as he faded away.

  I tried to read my book again in my quiet cavern, but I could not focus. Imagining it to be weariness from travel, I turned down my lamplight—leaving it at a soft glow—and climbed beneath the covers of my lush bed. I did not need the blankets, but I relished the comfort of their weight. Shivering and aching, I fell asleep quickly.

  I dreamed of Lo. When I awoke before dawn, I did not remember much of it, only that he and Ashlen had been in it, and we had been handtalking. Every time Lo said something, however, I couldn’t read it.

  I got a knock on the door while working a brush through my cold white hair. I hurried to it, eager for a visitor, and saw Rhono standing outside in the snow, her head scarf soaked. She carried a small tin bowl of soap, washcloths, and what looked like salt. Behind her I noticed a number of men out in my storm, digging long paths through the snow and shoveling the frozen clumps into stout leather bags, which they then piled into a large wagon. Snow harvesters, come for water. Or perhaps they had simply been sent to ensure the blizzard did not trap me inside this cave.

  “Come in, come in,” I urged Rhono. I stepped aside so she could enter. Her eyes marveled at the room for a moment before she stepped in out of the cold. I spied her camel not far off, its reins staked into the frosty ground.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to light the fire. Actually, I’m not sure how, with coals . . .”

  I knelt at my small fireplace and looked down at the coals, wondering if the rocks would just light if given a spark. I stood up to find my flint, but Rhono had already laid down
her load and walked back into the snowfall, trekking toward her camel.

  I watched her go. “Thank you!” I called. Without so much as turning, she mounted her camel smoothly and started back for the city at a trot.

  After shutting the door, I took Rhono’s gift and placed it with the tin tub I had found hanging on the wall in the very back of the cave. Afterward, I finished brushing my hair and ate some dates. With nothing else to do, I returned to my book of plays and started up where I had left off.

  As Lo had predicted, Imad came that very afternoon. I could hear him talking before he even knocked. When I opened my door, Lo stood there with him—not surprising, as he was captain of the prince’s guard. Both of them were dusted with snow. I hurried them inside.

  “Smeesa, it’s freezing in here!” Imad exclaimed, rubbing his hands together and looking over the walls. His words puffed in clouds of white. “But they did a decent job. Is it satisfactory?”

  “Yes, yes, of course!” I said, tugging my gloves tighter over my hands. “And I’m sorry, I don’t know how to light a fire with these kind of coals—”

  Before I could even finish the sentence, Lo crouched at my fireplace and began rearranging the coals into a cone, not caring that they left black smudges on his riding gloves. He found a cask of oil that I had not seen and drizzled it in the coals’ center, then struck a match to light it.

  “Thank you,” I said. He nodded.

  “A little dark for my tastes,” Imad said, examining the ceiling. “You’re sure you like it? I can send more lamps.”

  “I love it. Really, truly. I could not have asked for better. Did your negotiations go well?”

  Imad blinked for a moment. “Oh, with Paeil? Well enough; thank you for asking.”

  “You know Dideh Bab?”

  Lo gestured to the open book of plays on my bed, its pages wrinkled, faded, and torn on the edges, the dye in its cloth cover patchy from having been left in the snow too many times.

  “Dideh Bab?” I repeated.

  He tilted his head. “These are his plays. The Fool’s Last Song.”