A Gathering Of Stones

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In the morning, as the eidolon had predicted, there were six inches of snow on the ground but none falling and a wind that cut like knives. Ailiki brought the ponies in, fed them grain she’d stolen from the Rushgar stores. The little mahsar was changing as every day passed, becoming less a beast than a furry person, even her face was flattening-slowly, imperceptibly, but steadily until Korimenei was sure she saw a human face emerging from the fur. If the change continued, maybe someday Ailiki would be able to talk to her. She stowed her gear in pouches that were beginning to show the strains of this long journey and took apart the shelter, rolling the several pieces of canvas into a neat packet.

By midmorning she’d found the Vanner Road; the stiff winds earlier had swept parts of it clear of snow, so she made better time, but the ponies refused to be pushed. They were shaggy with their winter coats, but not nearly so fat as they should have been. Despite the care she’d taken of them, they were as worn as the leather on her pouches, as worn as she felt some days though the morning stckness had left her before she reached the mountains. She walked and rode, rode and walked, slipped, trudged, cursed the mountains and the cold and her brother for sending her out in this weather.

As dusk settled over the slopes she rounded a bulge and found herself on the outskirts of a small neat village that reminded her very much of her home vale. She stopped her pony, whistled with pleasure. Even in the shadowy dimness she could see how bright the colors were, how clean and simple the lines were. The houses were smaller than the multifamily dwellings she knew as a child, they were like beads on a string, elbowing their neighbors, instead of standing solitary in a Housegarden, but they had the same high-peaked roofs with cedar shakes oiled until they were almost black, the same whitewashed walls with painted straps and beams, the same heavy shutters carved in deep relief. She couldn’t see the designs, no doubt they were quite different, the thing was, they were there in the same place as the ones she knew. She felt her souls expand, her metaphorical el-

bows come away from her sides. She understood for the first time how much she missed her family, her people. She’d joked with Frit about going home; now she was indeed going-home and she was suddenly very happy about that. Smiling fondly, perhaps foolishly, she nudged the pony into a weary walk and headed for the CommonHouse on the west side of the Square. Behind her, Ailiki made the little hissing sound Kori thought of as mahsar laughter and clucked the pack pony into moving after her.