A Cavern of Black Ice (76 page)

While Ash and Raif filled the
waterskins with snow, Angus hiked onto high ground and surveyed the
surrounding land. Now, finally, Ash knew the reason behind his
constant watchfulness: He didn't want any uninvited guests following
him home.

He hadn't trusted Heritas Cant, not
fully. Ash clearly remembered him telling Cant that they would travel
north and then west. Only he'd never had any intention of doing such
a thing. As soon as he'd judged it safe he had turned east instead.
"Just a wee visit," he had said last night. "It'll
only slow us down by three days—a day there, a day back, and
one in the middle for some decent rest under a safe roof and a spot
of scolding from my wife."

Ash had accepted his decision without
question. She could not stop Angus and Raif from visiting their
family. How could she argue against the wish of two men to see their
kin—she, who knew nothing of fathers and daughters and cousins
and aunts? Cant's wardings would stretch the extra days. They had to.

The tail end of the storm had passed in
the night, and the snow underfoot was still finding its level. The
going was hard, but sunlight broke through the clouds at midmorning,
creating a world of sparkling blue frost. Everyone's spirits lifted.
Angus hummed a selection of tunes as he rode; Ash recognized one of
them as "Badger in the Hole." Raif remained silent, but his
hands were lighter on the reins and he often leaned forward to
scratch Moose's neck and say some bit of nonsense to the horse.
Watching the men's obvious excitement about the homecoming, Ash felt
herself growing nervous. The thought of Angus' daughters knotted her
stomach.

"Raif," Angus said as the
snowbound roofs of a small village appeared on the horizon, "what
say you take out that borrowed bow of yours and bring down something
fitting for Darra's pot. She'd have my hamstrings for slingshots if I
brought her two extra guests and no extra food."

Cords rose in Raif's neck as his uncle
spoke, and Ash thought he might refuse. Yet after a moment he reached
back over Moose's quarters and unfastened the bow from its case. The
bow was one of the few things that had not been lost by the lake. It
was a thing of beauty, horn and wood fitted together and then worked
to a high sheen. Raif stripped down to bare hands to brace it. He
worked quickly, tying knots, warming the wax-coated string, kneading
the belly of the bow as he curved it. The bowcase now boasted a dozen
straight, well-tilled arrows, and Raif drew one at random and put its
head to the bow.

Something in his face changed as he
scanned the surrounding territory for game. Ash saw nothing, only
blackstone pines, hemlocks, bladdergrass, and snow, yet Raif's gaze
focused on the spaces
between
things, and his eyes flickered
as if they were tracking invisible beasts. Minutes passed. Angus
busied himself by scraping the dirt from his fingernails with the tip
of his belt knife. Ash could not take her eyes from Raif. He became
something else when he had a bow in his hands, something she tried
but could find no name for.

Thud
The bow
thwacked
back, rattling as Raif's hand absorbed the recoil. Ash followed
Raif's gaze but could see nothing. No creature cried out in pain or
shock. A smell, like sulfur or copper, filled her nose and mouth. By
the time she swallowed it was gone.

Angus, who Ash guessed hadn't really
been interested in cleaning his nails at all, turned the bay toward
the shot. Even as the bay's hooves sent snow flying, Raif released a
second arrow.

"A pair of ptarmigan should be
enough," he said softly, after a moment.

Ash did not know how to reply. She
nodded quickly.

He turned to look at her. His drawhand
was free of the bow, and she could see the pink, herringbone flesh of
a recently healed injury on his palm. "You look frightened."

She tried a smile but failed. "I've
seen you shoot things before."

"That's no answer."

It wasn't, and she knew it. Looking
into his eyes, she saw how dark they were, even with the sun full
upon them. She tried a second smile and said, "Are you afraid of
me
?"

Raif's own smile was slow in
coming, but when it did it warmed her heart. "Not yet."

The moment between them lasted only as
long as it took Angus to return with the ptarmigan, yet it was
enough. They pulled their horses apart as Angus held the two fat
white birds above his head and cried, I'll be sleeping in the big bed
tonight!"

Both Ash and Raif laughed.

The journey went quickly after that.
They talked and rode and swapped stories. Ash was surprised to
learn that Raif had never visited Angus' farm before or met any of
Angus' daughters. She thought it strange that Angus had never brought
his daughters north to Blackhail to meet their cousins, but Angus
made a joke of it, saying he'd already lost one sister to a clansman
and had no intention of losing his three girls as well. Ash laughed
along with Raif, yet she was beginning to wonder what Angus feared.
Why was it so important to hide his family from the rest of the
world?

As midday approached they neared the
village that had first appeared on the horizon. The ground was hard
here, good for nothing save stone walls and sheep. The Bitter Hills
rose to the north, sending winds whistling through tough gray grasses
that somehow kept their heads above the snow. Sheep farms dotted the
slopes. The air smelled of woodsmoke and manure and damp wool. A
necklace of frozen ponds strung across the hills told of glaciers
long gone.

The village itself consisted of two
streets of stone-built houses sealed with tar. Ash saw signs of pride
in ownership in the cleared ground surrounding each building and the
well-maintained shutters and doors. Like the bay, the village
had
a
name, yet Angus preferred not to give it.

Angus also preferred not to approach
the village too closely, and he took them along a series of low
roads, sheep runs, and dry creekbeds, changing course at least three
times. By the time they arrived at the bank of a green-water river
Ash had lost all sense of direction and couldn't have pointed the way
back to the village if her entire life had depended on it. They
followed the river downstream for an hour or so until it ran through
a forest of ancient hardwoods. Towering elms, basswoods, and black
oaks rose like an army around them. The wind was quiet here, and the
only sound came from the horses' hooves snapping forest litter with
every step.

Ash was the last to see the farmhouse.
The forest did not thin: It stopped. One moment they were walking
through deep green shade cast by hundred-year oaks, then suddenly
there were no more trees. Sunlight dazzled Ash's eyes. Raif took a
hard breath. Angus said a single word: "
Mis
."

The rear of the Lok farm lay a quarter
league ahead, set into a stretch of softly worked farmland and framed
by a white elm as tall and stately as a tower. The roof of the house
was blue gray slate, and the walls were pale yellow stone. A low
door, carved from honey-colored oak and gleaming with newly applied
resin, formed the center of the main building, and all paths,
partition walls, lean-to's, and outbuildings were built in an arc
around it.

As Ash looked on the door opened. A
woman… no, a girl… stepped onto the path. She was
wearing a blue wool dress with a white collar and sturdy work boots.
Her auburn hair reached past her waist. "Mother! Beth!" she
called, her voice high and excited.

Angus made a sound deep in his throat
and jumped down from his horse. Ash glanced at Raif, thinking that he
would do likewise, but something must have been showing in her face,
for he sent her a look that said,
I'll stay here with you
.
Ash was surprised by her own relief.

Two other figures appeared in the
doorway, a woman with dark gold hair and a girl of six or seven,
dressed in the same plain wool as her older sister. The woman held
something in her arms, and it took Ash a moment to realize it was a
young child. The two girls raced down the path, shouting, "Father!
Father!" The woman waited in the doorway, watching. Ash noticed
her eyes flick to Raif and then to her. A small chill took Ash as she
sat upon her pony and received the woman's attention.

Angus ran onto the path to meet his
daughters. Catching them in a bear hug, he lifted them clean off the
ground and swung them in a great circle, all the while calling them
"his best girls."

Ash had to look away.

Raif, who had taken control of the
bay's reins, clicked his tongue, encouraging all three horses to step
forward. Snowshoe moved without Ash's consent. Ash wanted to stop
her,
considered
stopping her, yet in the end she didn't.
It's just Angus' family
, she told herself.
I'm making a
fuss over nothing
.

She just wished he had sons. Not
daughters.

Angus put his daughters down, and both
girls stepped away from him, allowing him a clear view of their
mother at the door. Angus stripped off his gloves, pulled down his
hood, and stood and looked at his wife. His eyes were dark as he
waited for her to beckon him. With half a smile she called him
forward, and the space separating them contracted to nothing at all
as Angus moved toward the door.

Ash knew then that Angus had lied about
his wife. All the threats she supposedly issued, all the rules she
supposedly made, were nothing more than thin air.

Turning away from them, Ash met eyes
with the eldest of the two girls. She was beautiful, Ash realized
that straightaway, with hazel eyes and skin that glowed with good
health. As the girl looked at Ash, her hand moved up from her side
and was taken immediately by her younger sister. Such a little thing,
yet neither girl even glanced at the other as they touched.

"Darra, I have brought visitors."
Angus' voice broke the moment. Holding his wife's hand, he pulled her
down from the step and onto the path. "Raif's come all this way
to see you. He's brought a fine pair of ptarmigan."

Hearing Raif dismount at her side, Ash
did likewise. Her eyes never left Angus' wife.

Darra Lok was dressed in a plain wool
dress without jewelry or trim of any sort. Her fair hair was piled on
her head in a style that Ash knew took only minutes each morning to
fix. As her dark blue eyes met Raif's, she let the child she had been
carrying at her hip slide to the ground. The little blond-haired girl
headed straight for Angus, crawling fiercely through the snow and
calling, "Papa!" loudly. Angus snatched her up and threw
her into the air like a sack of grain. The child loved it. Giggling
madly, she demanded, "More! More!" With both arms empty,
Darra looked to Raif. "Da's gone," he said quietly.

"I know," she murmured. "I
know." Ash could see that she wanted to take hold of Raif and
hug him, yet he stood apart from her and all she could do was touch
his sleeve. "Tern was a good, good man. I never met anyone more
honest and more fair." Raif nodded. Darra smiled. "And he
could dance… my, how he could dance…"

No longer nodding, Raif turned away.

Darra's hand moved in the air after
him.

"Cassy, Beth!" Angus said.
"Run and open the barn." He held out his youngest daughter.
"And take Little Moo with you. Hurry now."

The middle daughter pouted. "But
Father, we want to meet the lady with silver hair—"

"Later."

The girls heard something in their
father's voice that made their backs straighten. The eldest came and
took Little Moo from her father's arms, and the three sisters headed
for the side of the house. Ash watched them disappear, envy stabbing
softly at her chest. When she glanced up, she saw Darra Lok watching
her.

Angus gripped his wife by the wrist as
he led her toward Ash. "Darra, this is Ash. She's from Spire
Vanis. We're taking her north with us."

Darra's face was as pale and smooth as
wax. She was shaking in a strange way, as if she were either very
cold or very afraid.

Ash didn't understand what was
happening. Darra's large eyes were filled with so much emotion, they
frightened her. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked for Raif, but
he was some distance behind her now, tending to the horses.

"Ash." Darra seemed to test
the word as she spoke it. "Welcome to our house."

Ash didn't know what to do. This was no
time for smiles. Darra Lok looked distraught. Her welcome seemed
almost to hurt her as she spoke it. "Thank you," Ash said.
"I'm glad to be here."

Darra Lok made a nervous gesture with
her hands, brushing imaginary dirt from her apron.

Angus moved himself into a position
between his wife and Ash, touching both of them on the shoulder.
"Well, ladies," he said. "I think we should all go
inside and have a little brose by the fire."

Ash didn't know what brose was.
Suddenly nothing made any sense. Did Darra Lok know she was the
Reach? Was it fear she saw in the older woman's eyes or something
else?

Angus held on to both of them as they
walked toward the house. Raif followed after, leading the horses.
When the eldest daughter returned from the barn, carrying horse
blankets and feedbags, he called her by name: Cassy. What the two
said to each other, whether they touched, or hugged, or kissed, was
something Ash never knew, as she stepped into the warm, firelit
interior of the house, leaving Raif and Cassy to the snow.

In the short time it took to walk to
the door, Darra Lok had composed herself, and when she turned to Ash
and bade her strip off her cloak and take the seat closest to the
fire, she looked and acted like a different woman. Smiling gently,
she helped Ash with cloak ties, her fingers making quick work of
the hooks and laces. Angus stood in the doorway, watching them, an
unreadable look on his snow-burned face. "Well, don't just stand
there, Angus Lok," said his wife. "Stoke the fire and fetch
me the heavy iron pot—the one for heating bathwater. Oh, and
you might as well fill it while you're on your way."