Lioness Rampant

4 THE ROOF OF THE WORLD

ONCE THEY LEFT THE BORDER, THE ROAD BEGAN TO climb. The nights were cold, although it was May; Alanna was glad for Liam’s warmth in their bedroll. Thayet was the first to don a fur-lined cloak, but the others soon followed suit.

Thayet and Buri joined the Dragon’s morning exercises, learning Shang hand-to-hand combat. Alanna was surprised at how well she herself did. Evidently the years of training for knighthood helped her now. She could feel the difference in her body when they practiced, as her muscles took her smoothly from kick to blow and back. Filled with the optimism that comes from being physically fit, she mentally dared the Roof to do its worst.

The farther Thayet got from home, the more relaxed she was. She spoke about her childhood so frankly that Alanna thanked Coram for his affectionate, if gruff, raising of her and Thom. Thayet was the daughter of a ruler who wanted a son; only Kalasin made her feel loved. It was Kalasin who taught Thayet K’miri ways, Kalasin and Buri’s family.

“I could never be as good a queen as my mother,” Thayet said. She grinned. “Not that it makes a difference now. I won’t be a queen at all.”

“Are you sorry?” Alanna wanted to know. She had been terribly frightened when Jon asked her to be his wife, knowing someday she would have to be his queen.

“A little,” Thayet admitted. “I’d like to change things. In Sarain, for instance, women have no rights—just those our husbands or fathers grant us. Estates and fortunes are held by men. Women can’t inherit.”

“That’s barbaric!” protested Alanna. “At home women inherit. Not titles, but they have lands. I’m Myles’s heir by law—it isn’t common, but it happens.”

“Tortall sounds wonderful,” sighed Thayet.

“You’ll find out when you get there,” the knight promised. To herself she added, We’ll all find out a thing or two when we get there, especially Jon. She grinned in spite of herself.

As the winter snows began to melt, traffic picked up. The roads were thick with miners, trappers, and merchant caravans. Alanna’s company passed herdsmen driving flocks to the markets in the south. Farmers waved as they went by, their wagons filled with cheeses, brightly woven cloth, and chickens. Only the Doi tribesmen remained aloof. They were a people like the K’mir, though less fierce than their western cousins. They were expert at survival in the Roof; the most experienced guides were Doi, and the best furs came from their hidden villages.

The travelers rode deeper into the highest mountains in their world, where snow still lay in scattered drifts and patches along the road. Alanna battled rising impatience. For some reason, she felt that she ought to be on the way home. It would be foolish to turn back when they were so close, but she wanted to find the pass and do whatever it demanded, then leave.

She tried to reach Thom or Jonathan with her magic, but it was impossible. Too much distance lay between them. She hadn’t been able to show Coram his Rispah since they’d left the convent. Perhaps Thom had the power to reach across the continent—she didn’t.

Several days after they had crossed the border, she fell in beside Coram and signaled him to drop back with her. When they were out of their friends’ hearing, she asked abruptly, “Have you been joining with the Voice?” She referred to a Bazhir rite: Each day at sunset all who were Bazhir by adoption or birth entered into a magic communion with the Voice of the Tribes. The Voice heard news through this link, judged disputes, counseled his people. Since their adoption into the Bloody Hawk, both Alanna and Coram were able to enter into the joining, but Alanna had never done so. At first she refused out of a reluctance to let anyone, even someone as bound by duty and obligation as the Voice, into her mind. Later, after Prince Jonathan had become the Voice, and they had quarreled and broken off their romance, Alanna had decided she certainly didn’t want Jon to know how she thought and felt. At the same time, she knew Coram took part in the rite and had done so ever since his adoption in the tribe.

Coram stared at her, startled. “Ye told me when we left for Port Caynn last fall that ye never wanted me to talk about it, or say what I knew …”

Alanna blushed. “Things are different now. Have you?”

“Not since we set out for Maren.”

Alanna was startled by his answer. “You joined almost every night we were there. Why’d you stop?”

Coram shrugged. “It’s different when ye aren’t among the tribe. It’s lonesome. I’ve been tryin’, though, this last week. I knew ye’re worried about things at home.”

“And?” She couldn’t keep some eagerness from her voice.

“I’m sorry—I must be too far away. I haven’t felt a thing.”

Alanna smiled with an effort. “That’s all right. I’m probably worried about nothing.” She caught up with Liam, pretending not to see Coram’s troubled look.

They entered Lumuhu Valley the first week of May, and a day’s ride brought them to the twin passes at its northern edge. An inn built solidly of wood and brick stood where the roads from the passes met. Snow lay in a tattered sheet in the meadow behind the buildings and on the sides of the northeastern pass. The northwest road was blocked with snow and ice; the pass itself was clogged. Alanna swallowed as she looked at this second pass. Why did she have a feeling this was Chitral?

The sky had been bleak all that day. It darkened even more as they stabled the horses, and sleet began to fall as they entered the inn.

“May blizzards is no joke,” the innkeeper said, bringing them mulled cider as they waited for rooms to be prepared. “It’s what we pay for bein’ so high up. You’d best settle in. This storm’ll close Lumuhu a week—maybe longer.”

“What about Chitral?” Liam asked.

The man laughed. “Mother Chitral won’t open till Beltane, and then only for the strongest. The snow never leaves. Him that told you Chitral’s a good road was jestin’. I hope you never paid for the pleasure.” He walked away, still laughing.

“Now we know why no one took this jewel before,” Buri sighed. Thayet stared wistfully into the fire. Alanna huddled in her cloak, listening to the growing shriek of wind.

Liam stayed downstairs while Alanna went to their room to wash and dress in cleaner clothes. Unpacking her bags—since it appeared they were going to stay for a while—she found the violet gown she’d carried since leaving Corus. “How long’s it been since I wore a dress?” she asked Faithful.

The cat looked up from his grooming. You wore that one when you stayed with George, last fall.

“That’s right.” She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. “This was his favorite.”

It wasn’t so wrinkled then, the cat remarked.

Alanna rang for the chambermaid.

Thayet applauded when Alanna entered the common room in the violet silk gown (the maid had smoothed most of the wrinkles). Buri whistled; Coram grinned. Liam surveyed her from head to toe, an odd look on his face. “Well?” Alanna finally demanded, blushing from the others’ reactions. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s well enough,” he said at last. “Doesn’t seem practical, though.”

Would she ever understand him? “It isn’t supposed to be practical. It’s a dress. A dress that feels beautiful when you put it on.”

“Feeling beautiful won’t win a fight.” His eyes were the pale gray that told her nothing about how he felt.

“I hardly think I’ll fight anyone here, unless it’s you,” she snapped. “Why can’t I wear impractical garments every now and then?”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged. “I suppose you’ll want earbobs next, and bracelets and other frippery. What comes then? A noble-born husband and court intrigues?”

“I’m female.” Embarrassed, she realized Coram, Thayet, and Buri were trying to slip away. “Why can’t I wear a dress without you deciding I want to give up everything I am?”

“Our road is rough and cold and muddy. Maybe you realize now that a knight-errant’s life isn’t as glorious as you expected.” There was enough truth in this to hurt. He waved toward her gown. “Maybe this is the Lady Alanna you mean to show your prince when you go home.”

She walked out, knowing that if she spoke she would cry. Running into her room, she slammed the door behind her. She did question her life as a roving knight, but not for the reasons he had claimed.

Alanna tore off the dress and threw it into the corner, following it with her shift and stockings. Her breeches and shirt were half on when she did begin to cry. Within seconds her handkerchief was soaked.

“I hate him!” She punched the bed for emphasis. “I hate him! It isn’t right that one person can hurt someone else this much!”

“You scare him.” Thayet closed the door behind her. “Just when he thinks he understands you, you do something new. He can’t put you in a neat little box the way he does the rest of us.”

“I never asked to be something new to him!” Alanna wiped her eyes on her sleeve and finished buttoning her breeches. “I never asked to be anything to him! It just—happened.”

Thayet buttoned Alanna’s shirt. “I have a feeling it ‘just happened’ to Liam, too, and that’s what frightens him. Our Dragon is the kind of man who likes to be in control of everything, particularly himself.”

Alanna stared at Thayet. Did this explain why Liam feared magic? “What’s wrong with falling in love with me? And what does wearing a dress have to do with any of this, Thayet?”

The princess smiled. “Alanna, when you wore that dress, he saw the daughter of a noble house—a woman whose family tree reaches back to The Book of Gold. Liam is common-born.”

“If I don’t care about that, why should he?”

“He’s very proud.” Thayet dipped her handkerchief in Alanna’s water basin and wiped the knight’s face. “Some women can cry and look beautiful,” she said dryly. “You and I can’t.”

“I know,” Alanna sniffed. “I get red and blotchy. When George told me he was, well, interested, I cared about his being a commoner. I even said ‘like should marry like,’ or something like that. George didn’t care. But Liam—What difference can rank make to the Shang Dragon?”

There was a quiet rap on the door, and Liam came in.

“I was just leaving,” Thayet said. She winked at Alanna and went out, closing the door.

His face scarlet, Liam watched the floor as he spoke. “You shouldn’t’ve taken the dress off. You look very pretty in it. I guess sometimes we get used to seeing a person a certain way.”

It was all the apology she would ever get from him, she knew. Alanna patted the bed beside her, and Liam sat. “I like dresses,” she explained. “If you come with us to Tortall, you’ll see me wearing more of them. Just because I’m a knight doesn’t mean I don’t like pretty clothes.” She grinned at him. “I’ve even worn face paint, sometimes.”

When he looked startled, she explained, “You know, lip rouge, and so on. I’m not ashamed of being female, Liam.”

Tentatively, he brushed Alanna’s hair with his hands. “I didn’t think you were. I never forget you’re a woman, Lioness.” His first kiss was gentle, the second passionate. Alanna let him pull her into his arms, thinking, We should talk some more about why he was angry. I don’t think lovemaking will settle anything. The Dragon was so determined, however, that once again she put her questions aside to be dealt with later.

An hour later, as they dressed for dinner, she asked, “Are there any Lionesses in Shang?”

Liam stretched, thinking. “Not for fifty years. The women prefer names they don’t think are ‘flashy.’ That means not many Lionesses or Dragons. My master in kick fighting was the Wildcat. She always said if the men wished to attract attention, that was their problem.”

“But mythic beasts are ‘flashy’ by nature, I should think,” protested Alanna. “Or don’t you let women get to those ranks?”

“Try to stop them!” he grinned. “Right now there’s me, the Griffin—also a man—and Kylaia al Jmaa, the Unicorn. She’s the most beautiful thing on two feet, all silk and steel and lightning.” He tweaked her nose. “Satisfied?”

Their group had dinner in the room Thayet and Buri shared, not bored enough to go down to the common room yet. They were filled with a weird sense of mingled excitement and apprehension, but no one cared to talk about it. What could they do now? Wait until Chitral cleared?

Alanna didn’t think she could wait that long. Though she didn’t know why, she had a strong feeling that she had to get home.

They amused themselves the next morning by catching up on chores that went neglected while they were on the road. Alanna and Coram spent the hours after breakfast mending tack in the stables. Liam worked on his fighting gear as Thayet mended clothes and Buri cleaned the weapons. By lunchtime all of them were ready for diversion. They went to the common room to see who else was kept there by the storm.

Two companies of merchants were present: One bore spices to the valley north of Lumuhu and Chitral, the other furs and hand-woven goods south to Port Udayapur. They were joined by four locals—two shepherds, a blacksmith, and a guide—and a group of five Doi. The Doi were as interested in Alanna and her friends as the knight was in them. They exchanged looks with Alanna throughout the meal.

“Liam,” Alanna whispered, trying not to seem obvious, “the Doi woman with the onyx in the middle of her brow—who is she?”

Liam nodded gravely to the Doi. They hid their eyes briefly, a sign the Dragon said meant respect. “A fortune-teller,” he answered. “The Doi give them as much honor as you’d give a priest. Each fortune-teller works differently. Some read tea leaves in a cup. Some tell your future from the stars. I had my future done once. It’s interesting.”

She was surprised. “You don’t like magic.”

Liam shook his head. “This isn’t the same. No sparkly fire, nothing flying at you, or things changing. A Doi looks at something real.”

One of the Doi men came over, covering his eyes briefly to show his respect for Liam. “Dragonman, we are of the Rockmouse people.”

“I know the Rockmouse,” replied Liam.

“Our Lady-Who-Sees, Mi-chi, she knows time lies heavy, out of the wind. If you wish, she will tell your hands, all of you.”

“We will be honored.” Liam stood, telling the others softly, “It’s an insult to say no.”

Thayet sat beside Mi-chi when the fortune-teller beckoned to her. “I read hands,” Mi-chi said. Her voice was deep, her eyes dark and mysterious. “It is said the hand you use to draw a bow or to stir a pot will reveal that part of you others can see. The less-used hand, that is your inner self.”

Thayet nodded. “I’m right-handed.”

Mi-chi took the princess’s left hand, holding it palm up. No one spoke as she ran her fingers over the lines in Thayet’s palm. Curious, Alanna probed with her Gift. The fortune-teller’s magic was like Bazhir magic; it was drawn from the land rather than from a source inside the person who wielded it.

“What do you see?” Thayet wanted to know.

Mi-chi smiled at her. “You have lost your chains only, great lady. Follow your heart. It leads you to a mighty place. And forget your home. You will never return there.”

Thayet rose and walked over to the hearth, keeping her face away from them. Buri watched her royal mistress for a moment before taking her place beside the Doi woman. “Whatever it is you have to say, whisper it, all right?” she asked as she offered her right hand.

Mi-chi agreed, and afterward Buri refused to say what she’d been told. Coram was next, and he asked the same favor. When he stood, he was smiling—whatever his own future held, he seemed to like the prospect.

Mi-chi smiled at Liam. “You know your fate already, Dragon-man. Nothing I may say will change it, or your knowledge of it.” She looked at Alanna. “You, please.”

Alanna took the seat beside Mi-chi, offering her left hand. Mi-chi took both, studying the knight’s callused palms intently. When she spoke, Alanna could feel a power in her words that was nothing like the Doi magic she’d sensed earlier. This was stronger and untamed.

“He waits, old Chitral.” Mi-chi’s voice was harsh. “He knows you have come for his prize. He will not surrender it if you are unworthy.” Alanna’s friends gathered close, listening. “Do you think it will matter if you await this storm’s end before you set out? He has others to throw at you.”

“I’m not trying that pass in the middle of a blizzard!” Alanna protested.

“Then your desire, or whatever it is that drives you, is not enough.” Mi-chi’s eyes were mocking. “Make no mistake, hero from the flatlands. Chitral fights you with his snows and winds. All who would face him must battle on his terms, or not at all.” Dropping Alanna’s hands, the Doi looked at Liam. “Dragon-man, do you bring your kitten to us for testing? You may not want the grown cat.”

“I don’t bring Alanna anywhere, wise-woman. She picks her own road.”

Mi-chi stood, shaking. One of her companions came to support her. “Do not forget that, Dragon-man.” Her voice rasped with exhaustion. “She is a champion, like you, but different. Always different.” The Doi helped her to her rooms.

Alanna rubbed her hands on her breeches—they still tingled with both Mi-chi’s Doi magic and the other magic that had spoken through the fortune-teller. “It sounds … I don’t know. I’m not a hero, not yet.”

Buri slung an arm around Alanna’s shoulders. “Glad to hear it. Come on out to the stables and we’ll practice some kick fighting.”

The worst of it was that Alanna believed Mi-chi, or she believed whatever had spoken through the Doi woman. That surge of weird magic was impossible to deny. Just what is sitting up in that pass, waiting for me to come after the Jewel? she asked herself time after time as that day ended and the next crept on. The blizzard continued to blow outside without showing any signs of letting up.

She thought about just going home, but at this point, something inside Alanna balked. She knew there had to have been other times in her life when she’d failed to complete something she’d set out to do. She couldn’t remember them, however, and she didn’t want to. Furthermore, she did not want her search for the Dominion Jewel to become the time she would remember that she had started something and had given it up. Almost in spite of herself, she began to remember what she’d known as a child in Trebond about survival in the snow.

She was peering through a crack in a shuttered window shortly before twilight of their third day at the inn when she felt someone come up behind her. She knew it was Liam and didn’t turn. “I think the storm’s dropping,” she said, trying to hope.

Liam turned her around, gripping her shoulders tight. “Don’t even think of it,” he warned. “And don’t make your eyes wide and ask what I’m talking about. I’m not Coram, and your tricks don’t work with me.” That made her angry.

“Maybe Coram lets my ‘tricks’ work with him, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then why’d the innkeeper tell me you were asking about snow gear?” He gave her a little shake. “Do you think you’re immortal? That’s a killer blizzard! Entire herds are out there frozen in their tracks! Maybe that Gift of yours could shelter you from the little blows in Tortall, but this is the Roof of the World, and you will die. I’d never attempt it, and I forbid you to!”

Years of training stopped her from hitting him, although she’d never wanted to as much as right now. “You don’t know what I can do, Ironarm.” Her voice was icy as she jerked out of his hold. “I resent your acting as if I’d do something stupid if you weren’t around.”

“And wouldn’t you do something stupid?” he snapped. “Sometimes you act like you have no more sense than the kitten I named you!”

That was unfair, and they both knew it was unfair. Liam couldn’t apologize; Alanna couldn’t forgive. They were coldly silent through dinner, and the others retreated to their rooms immediately after, rather than witness this quarrel. Liam stayed to talk with the Doi, and Alanna went upstairs with Faithful.

“We’re not going to work this out,” she told the cat as she undressed and got into bed. “We’re too much alike, I guess.” Then she began to cry, because it hurt, in spite of her knowing why things were going wrong. Faithful nestled beside her cheek, purring comfortably. Alanna was asleep by the time Liam came to bed. She didn’t feel him gently touch her tear-blotched cheek.

The dream was so clear it scared her: Jonathan stood beside a coffin that held his mother, Queen Lianne.

“She was not strong.” Roger stood on the opposite side of the coffin, his face emotionless. “Her time had come.”

Jon’s eyes were tired. “She was healthy once, before you sent the Sweating Sickness. Before you tried to kill her with your spells.”

“That was another lifetime for me,” Roger said. Thom was a shadow at Roger’s side. “I have no more magic,” Jonathan’s cousin went on. “I did not kill her.”

Jonathan looked at his mother’s face. “I know you didn’t.”

Behind Jon, in the shadows, stood George. His eyes were fixed on Roger.

Alanna’s eyes flew open. It was very late—Liam was asleep, and the hearth-fire had burned down to embers.

That’s it, she thought grimly as she slid out of bed. I’ve wasted enough time. I’m going to claim that Jewel and go home.

Are you sure? Faithful asked as he settled on Alanna’s pillow.

“This is crazy,” she whispered as she dressed. Liam slept peacefully, not hearing her preparations. “That Doi fortune-teller was making fun of me.” Grabbing the bag that contained her next layer of clothing, she pointed to the door.

No, replied Faithful. Someone has to keep him asleep. He began to purr. A white, shimmering glow rose to cover him and Liam.

In the hallway Alanna shivered as she exchanged the clothes she’d put on so quickly for garments made of silk: shirt, hose, and gloves. The next layer was wool: leggings, stockings, another shirt. She’d begun to sweat, but she knew outside things would be very different. Discarding the bag and carrying soft-soled trapper’s boots, she tiptoed out of the inn and into the passage that joined house and stables.

Underground hot springs made it possible for the inn to stay open. The stables were warm—in her clothes, too warm. Alanna cursed the heat until she spotted the stable-boy, asleep in a pile of hay. When he stirred, she touched his forehead and told him to sleep, putting her Gift into it.

Moonlight pranced when she saw her mistress, but Alanna shook her head. “Not tonight, girl.”

Next to the stable doors were the three large bins the innkeeper had described for her. The one marked in red contained heavy winter gear in the largest possible sizes; the yellow one held medium sizes, and the green was for small. Opening the last, she pulled out the next layer of clothing. Everything was Doi make: leather jacket and trousers lined with fleece, a vest filled with goose down, a knitted facemask, goggles.

She used a burnoose for a head-cloth and her own fleece-lined mittens. From her belt hung Lightning and a double-headed ax with a special blade for ice. Over it all she wrapped a fur-lined cloak. Scanning the racks of snowshoes hanging over the bins, she selected the smallest pair and fastened them over the boots. “I hope I still remember how to use these things!”

Standing, she took inventory. Had she left out a single piece of clothing or a single tool that might help?

If she had, she couldn’t remember it now. Gently she brought up her Gift, filling every stitch she wore with it and binding the stable’s warmth to every layer of clothing. She fixed it there with a word of command, just to be safe, and sealed it all with the ritual “So mote it be!” Heat settled over her like a blanket. Drawing a deep breath, she opened the stable door a crack and passed through. Before she closed it, she sent a bit of magic back to the sleeping boy, so he would wake in five minutes and bolt the door.

The stableyard held drifts of only a foot or so, protected as it was by the inn’s high containing wall. She found the gate and opened it, bracing herself for the first unrestricted blast of the storm. When it came, it almost knocked her over. Slanting her body into the wind, Alanna passed through the gate and pulled it closed.

The wind made her gasp with its sharpness. Icy daggers bit into her chest as she started to shiver. Cold, a part of her wailed. I hate the cold!

Alanna forced a foot out in front of her, trying not to think of ice or wind. She stepped again, shoving her shoed foot down. Step two. She could barely see in front of her. How would she know which way to go? She raised a foot and brought it down, moving forward against the wind. Third step takes all. Somehow she was moving. Given what she already knew—that whatever ruled the pass was going to make this as hard for her as possible—she walked directly into the wind.

She hadn’t used snowshoes much in the years since she’d left Trebond. It took her a few minutes to make her legs and feet remember just how they worked: long steps, lift the shoes clear of the snow, then put them down. Stop every six or seven steps to shake off the snow that piled on the top of the broad, flat shoe. It was hard work for her leg muscles, but she welcomed it. She welcomed anything that took her mind off the cold. Even her Gift couldn’t ward off all of it, and her magic was burning up dangerously fast in the attempt.

Was she mistaken, or had the ground begun to rise?

She wasn’t mistaken. With a thump she collided with a tall stone pillar, the one that marked the point where the road left the valley floor and climbed into the pass. Alanna sheltered herself in the lee of the rock for a moment, panting with the effort it had taken to get this far.

On a stormless day this walk would’ve taken me five minutes. How long have I been out here? An hour? She pushed away from her shelter and into the wind again.

A sudden gust shoved her to her knees. Clenching her teeth, Alanna got up and went on to ram into a tree. She stumbled and fell on her back in the snow. Afraid she’d get buried in snow if she stayed in one place too long, she struggled up again, hissing words she’d forgotten she knew at the clumsy snowshoes. Inspiration struck. She seized a tree branch and hacked it off with her ax to form a staff. Miache didn’t have to put up with anything like this to get the Jewel, she thought grumpily as she shook the snow from her shoes and set off once again. She stole it from a nice, warm vault. Now she tested the ground ahead with the wood, always heading face first into the wind. She decided she’d rather face a dragon than this storm.

It helped to recite poems as she walked. First she went through those the Mithrans had taught her in the palace. When they ended, she started with those taught her by foot soldiers, thieves, and hostlers. She was halfway through “The Tireless Beggar”—the song that had almost gotten Coram into trouble in Berat—when she ran out of voice. Stopping to rest, she wondered how far she’d come.

Her internal clock said dawn was still a few hours away and that she’d been at this almost two hours. The innkeeper had said it was two hours’ hard walking from his door to the top of the pass, but under these conditions, Alanna knew it might take her an entire day to cover the same distance.

I wonder if I can sense the Jewel? She reached for her Gift and stopped, feeling afraid. While she’d concentrated on pushing ahead, her Gift had poured itself into the effort of keeping her warm. It was dangerously low and flickering, burning itself up against the killer storm. She couldn’t turn back—it would be gone before she reached the tree, let alone the valley.

Alanna climbed on. She thought wryly that she couldn’t even blame Liam for forbidding her this climb and making her determined to do it. She was a grown woman, and the only person who had ultimate control of her behavior was she, herself.

Serves me right for losing my temper, she told herself. Carefully she began to cut back the areas her warmth-spell covered until it was in force only around her feet, hands, and face. Trying to ignore the increased bite of cold on the rest of her, she plowed back into the wind.

It took five minutes of uphill walking before she realized that the wind had dropped. Halting, she looked up. Drifting snowflakes were all that remained of the blizzard. She slipped up her goggles and turned to look for her tracks. They lay behind her, following an eerily straight line as far as she could see. A cold that wasn’t winter-brought raced up her spine. Her trail should have swung back and forth in the snow. Instead it looked as if she could have drawn it with a straight-edge.

“I don’t know if this is good,” she murmured. “With the wind in my face, at least I knew where I was headed.” Looking again at her tracks, Alanna shrugged and set off again. As her Gift burned lower and lower, staying in motion became a vital concern. Every few feet she’d look back to make sure she kept to her earlier course. Before her opened the pass, white and smooth along the road. Overhead the clouds broke up, revealing a sliver of new moon. The night was very quiet, the only sounds those of shifting snow and cracking rock.

Suddenly she heard in her mind a voice as terrible in its way as the Goddess’s, filled with tumbling boulders and rushing streams. She dropped to her knees with her hands over her ears—it did no good.

So you have come this far. You took your time about it.

Alanna couldn’t reply.

Look to your left.

She obeyed. A line of light stretched up the wall of the pass, over broken rock and pools of snow and ice. The thing you came to take is at the end of this road—as am I.

The voice—it had to be the voice of the being that Mi-chi had called “old Chitral”—was gone. Alanna listened apprehensively for a moment, then remembered the cold’s danger and scrambled to her feet again. Drawing a breath, she turned away from the smooth path, which lay so invitingly before her. She strengthened the spell on her hands and feet, drawing it away from her face and wondering how long her Gift could hold out even now. She was sleepy. A nap would be—

She shook off the cold’s growing spell and made for the slope, stopping only to remove the snowshoes and strap them to her back. Her temper came back with a rush—not at Liam, this time, but at Chitral. “Am I supposed to entertain you?” she yelled, climbing into the rocks. “Where I come from it’s considered honorable to kill a victim outright—not play with her first!”

There was no reply, but she didn’t want one. All she really needed was the heat of her anger. She unhooked the ax from her belt once again, using it to pull herself up.

Her foot broke through a crust in the snow, and she went down, crying out as her leg got stuck between two rocks. Carefully she pulled herself out onto more trustworthy ground, using the ice blade on the ax. When she tried the leg, it throbbed but held.

“Are you enjoying this, Chitral?” No answer. On she climbed.

Within a few feet her staff slid on a hidden bit of ice. She struck the ground with her knees, biting into her lower lip. Alanna grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it against the mask, over her bleeding mouth. Adding another hurt to Chitral’s account, she rose and went on. She knew she got hurt so much now because weariness and agitated nerves interfered with her judgment. The best solution was to stop and rest for half an hour, but she didn’t dare try that. Instead she started to sing “The Tireless Beggar.” She’d finished it and had sung halfway through “The King’s New Lady” when she stumbled into the cave.

Her Gift flickered and died, leaving her with only a trace of its fire. She’d used it up.

Going home will be very interesting, she told herself as she looked around. There was a larger cave behind what seemed to be a small antechamber, and she went into it. Chitral’s line of light ended here, in a large chamber with walls that glowed a dim, eerie yellow. At the opposite end was a tunnel.

“All right, Chitral!” she yelled when she’d pulled down her mask. “I’m here!”

Then prepare yourself for combat, came the nerve-shaking reply. You asked for something you can fight. I will oblige you.

The air in the cave was cool, but not cold. She began to strip, preparing herself mentally. She peeled everything down to her woolen layer, leaving the clothing in a pile on the cave floor. Her mind took careful inventory of her physical condition, and she was unhappy with what she found. She’d never taken on a fight in worse shape.

Nothing to it, she thought as she unsheathed Lightning and loosened her arms. Next time I go after something, I hope it’s in a dusty corner where no one sees or cares if I take it. I did ask for this.

Something padded toward her in the tunnel. Moving into the center of the cave, Alanna set herself.

When it came into the light, she understood instantly that Chitral had assumed this form—she couldn’t say how she knew it, but she did. He’d come as one of the great rock-apes that inhabited the Roof of the World. Incredibly shy of people, they were seldom seen, and they never carried short swords as this one did. The blade was black iron and very primitive, but Alanna had no doubt it would do the job intended for it. Oh, gods, she thought as the ape squared off against her, its deep-set eyes bright with intelligence. I’m in for it now.

He—it?—swung and chopped, forcing her back. She moved warily, her tired muscles sluggish at first. He jabbed; Alanna countered and thrust, making the ape skip away. Now wasn’t the time for fanciness or art, now was the time to just stay alive. At least the knowledge of a fight sent adrenaline coursing through her body, putting a stop to the tremors of exhaustion. The ape pursued her, hewing with the short sword as if it were an ax.

The long hours with Liam began to show as Alanna automatically dipped, swerved, and twisted. Keeping out of the ape’s reach—he could do as much harm with a hand as he could with his blade—she made him wary of Lightning. Her sword nipped and bit at him, leaving his fur dotted with blood.

Her injured knee buckled, and the ape’s sword scored her from collar to navel, cutting through wool and silk to leave a shallow, bleeding gash. She faltered and lunged in, chopping at the ape’s neck. He roared and smashed back with his unarmed fist, catching her on the elbow. Alanna fell forward and rolled out of the way. Her arm went numb; Lightning dropped from her fingers. Getting up, she staggered back as the ape picked up her sword. He peered at the gray lights shifting under the steel skin.

You did a work of art when you made this. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t react to the pain of his voice in her head, not unless she wanted him to kill her as she covered her ears. She wondered how he even knew Lightning had once been two swords, and that she’d combined them to make one unbroken blade. The ape tossed the sword behind him, where it lay near the far wall of the cave. I suppose you did it only because you wanted a whole sword you could command. Not because the magic was beautiful for its own sake.

It wasn’t true, entirely. He gave her no chance to answer as he attacked.

Alanna couldn’t think, couldn’t worry if her body might give out. She ducked and dodged. When he gave her an opening, she executed one of the jump kicks Liam had taught her, slamming into the ape’s shoulder and making him roar. When he swung to chop her down, she was away and circling. She sought her chance and flew in again, hitting the same shoulder. It was his blade arm that she focused on, kicking every chance she had while keeping out of his range and grip. The fourth time she hit that arm, she kicked lower, into the same muscle he’d hit to make her drop Lightning. The iron sword fell to the cave floor, and Alanna went for it. Her hands closed on the hilt.

Pain seared her hands and arms, locking her muscles together. She screamed, her throat tearing with the cry. It hurt worse than anything she could remember. She held on—she couldn’t let go—and rolled to her back, pointing it at the advancing ape. Crying with the pain, she yelled, “Don’t! I don’t want to kill you! Keep the Jewel!”

The ape stopped a foot beyond the sword’s point, looking her over curiously. If Alanna didn’t know better, she’d have sworn he smiled. Reaching forward, he plucked the sword from her freely bleeding hands.

You are a funny little thing. His voice hurt much less this time, which puzzled her. He seemed to have changed his mind about killing her.

He didn’t choose to explain. Instead his thought-voice went on. I suppose you have no idea why you are compelled to seek this Jewel.

Alanna cradled her palms against her chest, too tired to rise. “It’s for the glory of Tortall.” Her throat hurt from screaming. “There isn’t a nation existing that can’t profit from the Dominion Jewel. And bringing it home would be to the glory of the knight who brought it. If it’s yours, though, it’s yours. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how the famous heroes of the past were able to take things from the entities that guarded them—not if they were as noble as the stories claim. When you look at it right, it is stealing.”

The ape shook his head, plainly amused. In a hand that was empty a moment ago, he offered a many-faceted purple gem. When she stared at him without moving, he placed it on her chest.

What use have I for a jewel? His outline turned blurry.

“Are you one of the gods?” she asked as he began to fade. Suddenly she had a hundred things she wanted to know from him.

No. I come from before. Your gods are children to my brethren and me.

Alanna could barely see the ape, and the air was getting perceptibly cooler. She scrambled to her feet. “Then who are you?”

I am this place, and these mountains. I suppose you might call me an elemental. Now his voice began to fade.

“How did you come by the Jewel?” She struggled to put on her clothing, trying to ignore the pain in her hands. The Jewel she stuffed into a pocket.

It finds its way to me from time to time. Not often, but now and then. I made it, and I keep it because I like to have company. I shall be entertained by your visit for centuries of human time. You mortals are quite interesting!

She could feel no sense of him at all when she finished dressing, which may have been just as well. She was not sure she liked the idea of being “entertainment” for anyone, elemental or no.

She found her way to the mouth of the cave and looked out, clinging to the rim of the opening. Dawn was coming, and she had no way to return to the inn.

“No wonder he gave me the Jewel,” she muttered, sliding down to sit on the rock floor. “I’m going to die here anyway.” She knew the idea should bother her, but it didn’t. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and she barely noticed the cold. Pulling her cloak over her face, she went to sleep.

She was warm—all of her, not parts. She could smell clean linen and herbal salves. Forcing her eyes open, Alanna wondered how long she’d been out.

“Never again.” Her voice was harsh in her ears. “I won’t spend another winter in the cold.” Her eyes watered as she tried to look around.

“You could’ve fooled me.” The deep rumble was Liam’s voice. “If a man went by the way you act, he’d think you live to freeze!”

She sighed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He was slowly coming into focus, and she wasn’t surprised to see that his eyes were pure emerald in color.

“Sorry?” His voice cracked on the word.

“I’m sorry I had to go into a blizzard at all. I wasn’t given a choice, remember?”

“You had your gods-cursed cat witch me!”

Alanna tried to push herself upright and winced: Her hands were heavily bandaged and throbbed under the weight she’d put on them. “Ironarm, stop it! Aren’t there times when you act alone?”

“This isn’t the same!”

“Horse dung it isn’t. People like us have to know when to break rules. This was one of those times, and I was right to do it. I am sorry I hurt you. Chitral didn’t leave me much of a choice.”

He walked out without looking at her.

Thayet came in a few minutes later with a pitcher of mulled cider. A maid followed with a tray of food, and Alanna’s stomach growled a welcome. Seeing tearstains on Alanna’s face, Thayet said, “The Dragon will be all right.” She poured a cup of cider and helped Alanna to drink it. “He was worried sick about you. We all were.”

“The Jewel?” Alanna didn’t want to talk about Liam. “Where is it?”

“Under your pillow. Can you manage a spoon?”

Alanna looked at a bowl of porridge dotted with dried fruit and cream. “I’ll manage if it kills me.”

Unfortunately, she couldn’t handle a spoon. Thayet fed her, ignoring Alanna’s protests. “You’ve been asleep almost a week,” the princess said. “The storm was over when we woke up. You were out there when it stopped?” Alanna nodded.

“There was a tremor of some kind—a little earthquake—just after dawn,” Thayet continued. “When it was over, the pass was clear. The innkeeper and some of the guests ran for a temple at that point, I think. You remember the Doi who were staying here? They went out and brought you down, slung over a pony. They said they found you in front of a cave near the top of the pass. You were a mess.”

“Can I talk to them?” Alanna wanted to know. “Thank them?”

Thayet shook her head. “They’re gone. They left when you started to get better. Buri says they don’t like to be thanked.”

“Did—the healers say how I am?”

Thayet put down the spoon. “You’ll have a scar from your neck to your abdomen, right between your breasts. Your hands will mend. They said you’d do better once you woke up and used your own Gift on them.” Reminded by this, Alanna felt for her magic and found it. Thayet began to tidy up, saying, “The Doi healer said your hands will always know when it’s going to storm.”

“‘Old swordsmen and their scars know the coming rain,’” Alanna quoted—it was a common saying. “I suppose I had to pay for this somehow.”

“Was it worth the price?”

“I don’t know.” Alanna drew the Jewel from beneath her pillow and looked at it. The gem fit neatly into the center of her palm. “Thayet, do you want this? For Sarain? It seems as if you need it more than Tortall does right now.” She offered it to the princess, who stepped back with an odd look on her face. The Jewel began to shimmer with an internal light, until Thayet pushed Alanna’s hand away.

“No female can hold the Saren throne.” Her voice was soft. “The Book of Glass forbids it. Children hear tales of other lands, less wise than ours, who came to grief because they let a woman rule. The chiefs of the Hau Ma, the Churi, and the Raadeh are women, but they’re K’mir, and everyone knows the K’mir are savages.”

“Tortall isn’t like the K’mir, but it isn’t that bad, either,” Alanna said. The bitterness in Thayet’s voice hurt.

“All my life I’ve been worthless, the one who should have been a male and an heir. My father was kind, in his way—I take after him in looks.” Thayet rubbed the arch of her nose. “But he never forgot I wasn’t a boy. Every morning the Daughters of the Goddess and the Mithran priests have orders to pray for a jin Wilima in their daybreak services.”

Alanna swallowed. If he’d loved his daughter, how could the Warlord have humiliated her like that? “Thayet, I’m sorry.”

The princess didn’t hear. “I’ll tell you something else, Lady Knight. In Tortall you lied about your sex and kept it secret for years, but when the truth came out, you were allowed to keep your shield. We heard about you at my father’s court. The majority opinion was that you should be burned, although one group held out for death by torture.” Thayet put the tray beside the door. “I thought Tortall sounded like Paradise. It’s certainly an improvement on my father’s palace or the convents, and it has to be better than what I’ll get if I return to Sarain now.”

“You didn’t have to tell me any of this.” Alanna slid the Jewel beneath her pillow again. “A simple ‘no’ would’ve worked.”

The princess’s face had been hard and distant. Slowly she brightened. “A ‘simple no’?” she repeated, amused. “Alanna, my very dear, you’re an incredibly high-minded person, have you noticed? You take duty and responsibility seriously. If you believed I turned my back on Sarain for a whim or a fit of temper, you’d lose any respect you have for me.” She put a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “Before I met you, I thought the women of our class were useless. Those who go to Shang are commoners. Noble families chain their daughters in their rooms rather than permit them that life. The K’mir have no one of noble blood, only people who earn their honors. But you and I come from overbred families, good as ornaments and nothing more. And you are far from useless.”

Alanna blushed. “Thayet, you’re flattering me. It was easier for me to rebel than stay and make something of myself. Why didn’t I go to convent school and prove ladies are more than ornaments that way?”

Thayet’s look was skeptical. “What I’m trying to say is that I look forward to creating my own life. In Tortall I can, because I’ll be without rank or title.” She sat on the bed. “I’m going to start a school for the children of commoners. Once I sell my jewels, I’ll have plenty of money to do so.”

Alanna, who had different plans for Thayet, said hastily, “I won’t cast you adrift when we’re there! You’ll be our guest—Thom’s and Myles’s and mine. The school’s a grand idea, but there are ways and ways to start one.”

Thayet shrugged. “Look at me, rattling on when you just woke up.” Firmly, she tucked blankets around Alanna. “Try to sleep some more.” She left, carrying the tray.

Sleep was the last thing Alanna wanted. She’d had a week of it. With an effort she threw off her blankets and stood. Leaning against a bedpost for support, she took inventory: twisted leg—stiff but painless; assorted bruises—fine; gash on her chest and bitten lip—cleanly healed; eyes—teary but working; hands—she didn’t want to think about her hands. Not bad, considering.

She dressed in garments that could be pulled on. Buttons and buckles were more than she could handle. She tucked her feet into slippers and clumsily ran a brush through her hair. Keeping a watch for well-meaning persons who might shoo her back to her room, she escaped to the stables.

The stableboy ran when he saw her, which was convenient. There are times in every rider’s life when it is necessary to apologize to a horse, but Alanna preferred not to have witnesses. It was too embarrassing. Moonlight tried to stay aloof as her knight-mistress entered her stall. Alanna offered an apple stolen from the common room, stroking the mare and whispering compliments. Soon Moonlight was nudging and nuzzling, plainly checking Alanna’s hooves, withers, and flanks. The salve on Alanna’s bandages made the mare sneeze.

“I wish Liam forgave this easily,” sighed Alanna. She looked up to see Faithful sitting on the gate. “Are you angry too?”

I know why you went. Moonlight and the others were worried, the cat said. I’ve been staying here since the Dragon woke and found you gone. Horses are calmer people. They also don’t throw things at cats. He climbed onto her shoulder, draping himself around Alanna’s neck.

“Poor Faithful. He didn’t really throw things, did he?”

Only when he saw me.

Someone coughed. Coram had been grooming Anvil. Now he leaned against the bay’s stall, watching.

“Are you going to yell at me, too?” Alanna asked warily.

“I should, I expect. I thought I raised ye to treat blizzards with more respect.”

“I did. If you hadn’t taught me how to dress, how to survive, I wouldn’t be here now.” Alanna wanted so much for him to say it was all right. She couldn’t bear it if she lost Coram and Liam both.

“Surely ye’re not tellin’ me it was a simple matter of layerin’ yer clothes and usin’ snowshoes.” There was a mocking gleam in his eye.

“No. I used my Gift. Coram, I didn’t have a choice. If I’d walked out of here on a sunny day, Chitral—the being that holds the pass—would’ve dumped another storm right on my head. If there was a safe way to get the Jewel, I would’ve followed it gladly.” To her shame, Alanna felt tears dripping down her cheeks. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

Coram walked over and put his arms around her. “There, now, Lioness,” he whispered, holding Alanna tightly. “It’s just hard to see ye all grown up and doin’ mighty things.” He wiped Alanna’s eyes with his handkerchief. “Though I don’t know why I’m surprised, since ye always told me ye would.” He put the handkerchief to her nose. “Blow,” he said firmly. She obeyed, just as she had when she was five. “That’s my girl.”

Buri, Thayet, and Coram came to share Alanna’s dinner, setting their own meals up on tables so they could eat dinner together. Since the inn’s healer had examined and rebandaged her hands, Alanna could use her own knife and fork. That alone lifted her spirits—being fed made her feel helpless. Once the maids cleaned up, they roasted chestnuts in the hearth and told stories until everyone was yawning. Thayet was gathering up her beadwork when Alanna said, “If it’s all right, I’d like to go the day after tomorrow.”

“Are you crazy?” Buri demanded. “You just got up! You said yourself you won’t be able to grip anything but a fork or spoon for a week!”

Alanna shrugged. “I’d just like to set out. I’ll be all right.” Meeting Coram’s eyes, she added, “Moonlight won’t let me fall.”

Shaking her head, Thayet sighed. “We’ll see how you feel tomorrow.”

Buri stayed when the other two went out. “I want you to know that it’s an honor to ride with you, wherever,” the girl said shyly. “I just hope someday you’ll tell me what happened. It must’ve been awful, the shape you’re in.” She grinned.

“The innkeeper won’t take payment, did Thayet tell you? The healer won’t, either. The grooms fight over who works on our horses, especially yours. The maids cut up the napkin you used for lunch, so they can each have a bit.”

“Buri, that’s crazy!” Alanna protested.

“Ask them,” Buri said impishly. “They say you parted the snows and walked up there to do battle with the God of the Roof for his Jewel.”

“All this will happen to you someday, once you go out and start performing great deeds,” Alanna threatened as the girl opened the door. Buri winked and left. “What nonsense!” Alanna said to Faithful.

The inn has filled up over the last three days, was the cat’s lazy reply. The innkeeper raised his prices. He expects a very good year—several very good years, in fact. Word gets around fast. He yawned and tucked his nose beneath his tail.

Muttering about human folly, Alanna tossed the bedclothes aside and went downstairs. Since her friends had been with her until late, only a few people remained in the common room, most of them drinkers who were oblivious to anything. The innkeeper and a maidservant were cleaning up. Liam sat before the fire in a low chair, feet crossed before him, frowning.

“I thought Shang warriors were too dignified to sulk.” Alanna hooked a stool over so she could sit in front of him.

“Go away, Lady Alanna,” he sighed, reaching for a tankard and draining it. The innkeeper came with another tankard and a pitcher, pouring mulled cider for them both before making himself scarce.

Baffled and hurt, Alanna pinched an earlobe to keep from crying. When she had herself under control again, she rasped, “What’s wrong with you? Are you offended because I didn’t take your manly advice? D’you think I did something you couldn’t have? Is your pride hurt?” She looked at her bandaged hands; they were trembling.

A massive hand gripped her chin, turning her face so he could stare into her eyes. “Put yourself in my boots.” His voice was soft, his face tight. “I sat here wondering if you’d live while all around me folk talked about those who died of the cold. Moonlight tried to break down the stable door. The hostlers had to drug her. Coram—I never want to see a man that drunk again. Thayet and Buri were fine. Why shouldn’t they be fine? You witched them. Just like you witched me.”

That’s it, Alanna realized. She had known how he felt about magic, and she had let Faithful spell him anyway. Liam would never trust her again. “Are we finished, then?” she whispered.

He let her go. She continued to watch him, waiting. “I don’t know, kitten.”

At the use of her nickname she felt her chin tremble and her eyes fill. “I am sorry. I know it doesn’t do any good, but I am. If you’d wakened, you’d’ve stopped me.”

Liam nodded. His eyes faded from emerald to a blue-gray she’d never seen before. “Seems there’s nothing we can do, right? I can’t help the way I feel. Not about the Gift. And you can’t help but use it, nor should you. A tool is meant to be used.” After a moment he swallowed and added, “I’m sorry, too.” His voice was cracking. “You probably saw I had my things moved to another room.”

“Can we be friends, still?”

“I promise it.” He couldn’t keep the relief from his voice, which hurt Alanna more than anything he’d actually said. She made her excuses and went upstairs to cry over Liam Ironarm one more time.

Two days later they set out. Alanna couldn’t shake the sense that she had to go home, and her companions had caught the feeling from her. Most of the inn’s staff appeared sorry to say good-bye, although some—like the stableboy—hid their eyes in the Doi gesture of fear and respect when they passed. Alanna tossed a gold noble to the boy, wanting to make up for the fright her sleep-spell had given him. He dropped it with a yelp, refusing to touch it until a maidservant had picked it up.

On the road, Alanna stopped for a last glance at Chitral Pass. The snow was nearly gone after the spate of spring temperatures that had followed her adventure. Green showed on the rocky walls leading up into the surrounding mountains. A party of trappers was headed up into Chitral as another company descended from Lumuhu Pass. Alanna wondered if Chitral watched her and waved a farewell in case he did.

That night they stopped at an inn they’d used on the way north. Where before they had been treated no differently from other wayfarers, now they were honored guests. The news of Alanna’s feat and her possession of the Jewel had spread rapidly, and the inn’s staff made it plain they considered no service to be too small for them to give Alanna and her friends. The landlord refused payment at first but learned that the Shang Dragon could be very persistent. The company received the same treatment from the staff of the next inn, where they spent their second night on the southern road.

As their third day’s ride drew to a close, Alanna thought wistfully of a camp under the stars. It would be chilly, like any other mountain night, but they would have privacy. If the next inn was like the last two, privacy would be in short supply. Burdened as she was with mending hands, Alanna didn’t want to mention it. The others would have to do her work if they camped.

Buri halted when they saw the lights of a town ahead. “I’ll meet the rest of you in the morning,” she announced. “I’d rather freeze to death.” She looked guiltily at Alanna. “Sorry, Lioness. I forgot you almost did freeze to—”

“Enough, Buri,” Alanna growled.

“I have to stay with Buri so she can protect me,” announced Thayet. “I’m tired of sleeping indoors anyway.”

The men looked uncomfortable, and Faithful yowled his disgust with overly attentive maids. Alanna sighed in relief. “Let’s find a camping spot.”

They camped during the remainder of the ride to Port Udayapur, filling their bellies with game, wild greens, and oatcakes. Alanna performed any magic—such as mending her tattered hands—out of Liam’s sight.

By the time they reached the seaport, Alanna had shed her bandages, and her friends were comfortable around her again. She sometimes felt a pang of sadness when she looked at the Dragon, but she also knew their friendship would last far longer than their romance.

Once they were settled at one of Port Udayapur’s inns, the travelers met in Alanna’s room to discuss their next step. No one was surprised when Alanna said, “I still can’t shake the feeling Coram and I are needed at home. Neither of us seems able to make contact with anyone. But I have this sense of trouble there. I’m thinking of hiring a ship.”

“I thought you didn’t like them.” Liam sounded as if he didn’t care one way or another.

Alanna grimaced. “I don’t. Please, I’d like all of you to come with us. Actually, I’d prefer it. But you may have other plans.”

Buri and Thayet exchanged looks. “We don’t,” Thayet said. “I still want to go to Tortall.” Buri nodded her agreement.

Alanna smiled. “Good.” She picked up Faithful, not wanting Liam to see how anxious she was. Things were so bad between them …

“The innkeeper says a Tortallan galley’s in the harbor.” The Dragon’s voice was quiet. “I don’t know if we can book passage—she’s a diplomatic courier. But I can ask.”

Alanna grinned. He’d said “we.” “Would you? Maybe if you use my name—Trebond and Olau—they’ll agree.”

Liam nodded and went out. The others followed, Coram to take their snow gear to the market and sell it now that they no longer needed such things, Thayet and Buri to see the sights. Alanna stayed in her room to nap.

She was roused from her sleep by a knock on the door. When she opened it, one of the maidservants dropped in a curtsey. “Excuse me, miss or lady,” she began nervously. “The gentleman here insisted that he see you.” She indicated the very large man standing behind her.

The man stood with his back to the hall’s torches, which meant Alanna was unable to see his face clearly. He had no trouble seeing her, however. A familiar voice said, “Praise Mithros, it is you!” and Alanna was seized up in an enthusiastic hug. Now she could see that his hair and mustache were black, the same color as his wickedly dancing eyes, and that his cheeks were tan and ruddy.

“Raoul?” she whispered, not sure if she believed it. He grinned, and she returned the hug with one every bit as fierce. “Goldenlake, you sly fox!” She pounded his back in delight as he carried her into her room and kicked the door shut. “Look at you! Look at you!” He was as tall as ever. When he put her down, she had to tilt her head to see him. “Sit, so I don’t hurt myself looking up at you.” He obeyed briefly, only to jump up to hug her again. It was five minutes or more before either of them had calmed down enough to make rational conversation. Faithful climbed into Raoul’s lap to deliver his own welcome while Alanna poured fruit juice for them both.

Seeing him was almost as good as coming home. During her palace days Alanna’s closest friends were all older than she was: Raoul, Gary, Jonathan, and sometimes Alex—Alexander of Tirragen. The older boys were squires to Alanna’s page and knights to her squire. They’d taught her palace ways and let her join them in adventures and scrapes. She had introduced all but Alex to George, and they had advised her and looked after her.

“What are you doing here?” she finally remembered to ask. “Last I heard, you were riding desert patrols.” Seeing his dark tan and the burnoose draped over his shoulders, she added, “I see the desert agreed with you. Did you like the Bazhir?”

He grinned. “They adopted me. Not your people, the Bloody Hawk. The Sandrunners.” He’d named a tribe far to the south of Alanna’s. “I like the Bazhir a lot. All they ask a fellow is to ride and fight and do his share of the work—no paying compliments to people you don’t like or anything like that.”

Alanna grinned. Both Squire Alan and Sir Raoul were notorious for their dislike of social functions. “So what brings you here now?” she wanted to know. “Is that courier vessel yours? Don’t tell me you’ve turned diplomat.” She sat on the bed as Raoul’s grin faded.

Raoul looked at the cup in his hands. “I’m no ambassador yet. When Myles got your letter from Jirokan, the one where you said you might come here after the Roof, he told Jon, and Jon sent me to bring you home. He’s got messengers all along the Great Road, in case you’d changed your mind and decided to return that way.”

Faithful sat beside Alanna, who was now uneasy. “I didn’t know Jon had the authority to do such things,” she said nervously. “I thought only the king could dispatch the diplomatic ships.”

“That’s right. Jon—” He stopped, looking unhappy. “Look, Alan—No, that’s not right. Alanna—”

“King Roald is dead?” she whispered.

Raoul nodded. “Let me tell it in the right order. I don’t want to skip anything.” Alanna nodded, feeling stunned. “See, her Majesty died around the March new moon. No one was surprised, not really. She wasn’t very strong, after the Sweating Sickness—you remember. Then Roger tried to kill her, with that image of his. After you left, Thom destroyed the image so she wouldn’t be hurt by it, but the damage was done. It was only a matter of time. Then, with the winter so bad, and everything else …” He sighed. “Myles and Thom said you were in Berat right about when she passed on.”

“I wrote them from there. Black God, give her rest,” Alanna murmured. She’d never thought of the court without Queen Lianne, even when she tried to envision the hazy “someday” when Jon would be king.

Raoul gave Alanna his handkerchief and continued. “The king never got over it; you know how they were about each other.” Alanna half smiled; the royal couple’s devotion was plain to anyone with eyes. “It was three weeks later, something like that. Near the beginning of April. He went hunting and got separated from the rest of the party. He was dead when they found him, an accident. It looked like he tried to jump—Remember that gorge, the narrow one about half a league above Willow Falls?”

“Of course.” She’d jumped Moonlight over that gorge many times. It was very deep, and the jump required skill and excellent reflexes. She whispered, “So Jon’s king.”

“Not officially. The coronation’s set for the day of the July full moon. He’s been acting as king ever since her Majesty died, though. The king just wasn’t interested.”

“Jon must be heartbroken.”

“He is, but he’s never had a chance to get away by himself to mourn. Not with things the way they are.” When Alanna looked baffled, Raoul started to pale. “You don’t know, do you?”

Alanna suddenly felt that something—something more—was seriously wrong. “Know what, Raoul?”

“You’ve had no word from Tortall this year? Nothing?”

“The hill roads were almost impassable when Coram and I rode for Berat.” What is wrong with him? she wondered. Raoul’s hands were clenched so tightly in his lap that the knuckles were white. “They were still bad in the south because of the winter rains. No messengers were coming through. And Berat’s too far from the sea to get the news from the ships.”

“Your Gift, though—?”

“I didn’t want to contact anyone with it. I was … busy,” she admitted, blushing as she thought of Liam. “What difference does my being in touch or not make? By April we were in Sarain. No messengers could’ve found us there.”

“This was before April.” Raoul’s voice was tight. “Remember All Hallow? George told us you were with him in Port Caynn.” Alanna’s blush deepened. “Thom was doing experiments—that’s what he told everyone.”

“He borrowed my Gift.” Her stomach sank. She sensed the worst was coming, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it.

“We didn’t know,” Raoul said disjointedly. “He kept it secret till late in February. It probably finished her Majesty … You remember Delia of Eldorne?”

“Raoul, please spit it out,” Alanna pleaded. He seemed not to hear.

“She’d been after Thom since you left. Telling him that the really great sorcerers could raise the dead, playing off his pride. Sorry, Alanna, but you know how vain he is. Thom finally lost his temper. It was at a court ball; we all heard him. He told her he could do anything Denmarie the Earth-Shaker could do—”

Alanna felt dizzy. “Roger. He brought Roger back.”