A Cavern of Black Ice (77 page)

Angus smiled at Ash. "I told you
what she was like." With that he went about his appointed task
with all the grumbling and puffing of a man perfectly happy yet
pretending not to be.

Ash looked around the large farmhouse
kitchen. Undressed stone walls glowed like old parchment in the
firelight. The blue slate floor was covered in worn rugs of all
shapes and sizes and thicknesses; the oldest one looked to be a
balding fox pelt that lay like a faithful dog beside the hearth. The
fireplace was as big as a shed, and cast-iron shelves, roasting
racks, and gridirons were suspended at various heights above the
flames. An armory of knives, graters, skewers, roasting forks, and
nut-and-bone crackers hung above the hearth on meat hooks, and a
great black warming stone sat in the middle of the flames.

It was a hard-used, well-cared-for
place. The large birch table that sat in the center of the room had
been scrubbed down to the raw wood, and every chair in sight boasted
a
slat, spindle, or leg that had been repaired with newer
stock.

"Sit," Darra said, hanging
Ash's cloak over the back of a chair to dry. 'Til warm us some
brose."

Ash did as she was told, finding a
stout little stool to her liking. She watched as Darra poured frothy
amber beer into a pot, then thickened it with a hand of oatmeal. "I'm
sorry if my coming here has upset you." Darra did not stop what
she was doing as she replied, "No, Ash. It's me who should
apologize to you. I offered a poor welcome. I… you…"
She struggled for words. "It's not often Angus brings visitors
to the house."

She had meant to say something else,
Ash was sure of it, but before she had chance to question Darra
further the door opened and Raif and all three of Angus' daughters
burst into the room.

"Look, Mother!" cried the
middle daughter. "Raif brought down two ptarmigan on the dog
flats. He said they were flying as fast as eagles when he took them.
And he's promised to teach me how to shoot."

Raif's smile was tactful. He had
probably said no such thing.

"Hush, child," said Darra.
"Raif, come and warm yourself by the hearth. We haven't got any
black beer, I'm afraid, only brose."

"Brose will be good."

"I don't doubt it," Angus
said, emerging from another door with a huge iron pot filled to the
rim with water. "Tern's black beer has doubtless ruined your
palate for life."

"It was useful for keeping flies
away in summer," Raif said. "Aye, and women and maidens,
too!"

Everyone laughed. Ash guessed that
Tern's beer was famous for being bad. She smiled, then joined in the
laughter. It was good to learn something small and homely about
Raif's life back in the clan.

"
Father
." The middle
daughter turned the word into a reprimand. Her large gray blue eyes
rolled in the direction of Ash. "We haven't met the lady yet."

Ash felt her cheeks color. Cassy sent
her a sympathetic
Sorry my sister's acting like a fool
look.

Angus frowned. He fitted the iron pot
onto the warming stone, where its height and breadth halved the light
in the room. That done, he turned and surveyed his three girls, who
were lined up from smallest to tallest by the door. After a moment he
growled at them, sounding just like an aging and much-put-upon wolf.
Little Moo growled right back, mimicking him perfectly. The two elder
girls tried but did not succeed in keeping straight faces.

"Daughters!" Angus complained
to no one in particular. "Who would have them?"

"Grrrrrr." Little Moo growled
again. She was really very good at it. "All right! All right!
You've worn me down!" Shaking his head, Angus turned to Ash.
"Ash, these are my daughters: Casilyn, the eldest, and close to
you and Raif in age. Beth"—Angus glowered theatrically at
his middle daughter—"the talker of the family. And Maribel
the—"

"Growler," said Beth, quick
as only a child could. Angus very nearly gave himself away by
laughing. "The
baby
."

"Moo! Moo!" said Little Moo.

"Aye," Angus said. "My
youngest child, for reasons known only to herself, refuses to answer
to any name other than Little Moo."

"Moo! Moo!" repeated Little
Moo, eminently satisfied that her name situation had been explained.

Ash smiled shyly at the three girls.
Cassy smiled back; Beth curtsied in an elaborate manner, losing her
footing on the knee bend and knocking into the door; and Little Moo
giggled, growled, and said, "Moo! Moo!" a few more times
for good measure.

"Girls," Angus said, "this
is Ash. She's traveling with me and Raif for a while. And tonight
she's our special guest and must be treated so by all of you.
Understand?" All three girls nodded. "Good."

"Father, can Ash sleep with me and
Beth tonight?" Cassy raised her bright hazel eyes to meet Ash's.
"If you'd like to?"

Ash nodded. Cassy was almost as tall as
she, but better filled out, with proper breasts and hips. Her hair
was glorious, sometimes red, sometimes golden, thick and wavy and
full of light. Ash thought for a brief moment of Katia, of her dark
beautiful hair that no amount of pins could tame, then shut the
memory away.

"Cassy, why don't you take Ash to
your room?" Darra poured hot cloudy liquid into a set of wooden
cups as she spoke. "Help her bathe and change if she'd like to.
She's had a hard journey and may want to rest before supper."

Ash sent a look of thanks to Darra.
Meeting Angus' family had left her shaken and exhausted.

"Can I come, too?" Eagerness
lit up Beth's small pink face. "I'll help with her clothes and
hair."

"No," Darra said. "Just
Cassy."

"But-"

"I said
no
. You can go up
later, once she's rested." Beth closed her mouth. Her bottom lip
trembled. A moment passed. The kitchen was so quiet Ash could hear
the impurities in the firewood sizzle as they burned.

Then Raif stood and extended his arm
toward Beth. "What say you and I go outside and shred some wood?
I'll have you hitting bull's-eyes by sundown."

Ash loved him for that. It was the act
of someone who knew what it was to have sisters and brothers of his
own.

Issuing a high, excited scream, Beth
ran to Raif's side and hugged him fiercely. Together they left the
house, Beth hitting Raif with a barrage of questions about bows,
arrows, ptarmigan, the lady with the silvery hair.

Angus and Darra exchanged a glance,
then Angus slipped on two thick sheepskin mitts and picked the now
hot iron basin from the hearth. "Follow me," he said to
Cassy and Ash.

He led them up a flight of stairs and
into a tiny, odd-shaped room. Once he'd placed the iron tub on the
floor, he lit an oil lamp and left. Ash noticed how his hand came up
to touch his daughter's cheek as he crossed toward the door.

"Would you like to wash now, or
rest?" Cassy gestured toward one of the two boxed pallets that
lay against opposing walls. The room was sparsely furnished, with
plain walls and a rug of woven rushes. The only item of furniture
beside the pallets was a small table that had originally been built
for carpentry work, as the many hammered nail-heads, saw marks, and
chisel gouges attested to.

"I'm sorry the room's a bit bare.
Beth and I hardly spend any time here."

Ash shook her head, thinking of her own
silk-lined, thick-rugged, amber-warmed chamber in Mask Fortress. "No.
I like it very much. The bathwater looks tempting. I think I might
wash first."

Cassy came forward to help her
with the hooks and eyes of her skirt. Her hands were rough and
callused, split in part by old scars, and Ash reminded herself that
Cassy lived on a working farm.

"Father's away a lot some years,"
Cassy said, obviously noticing wherever Ash's gaze rested. "Last
spring Mother and I had to shear the lambs ourselves. They kicked a
lot."

Ash made no effort to hide her own
street-worn hands.

"Usually Father tries to go away
in the winter, when there isn't much to do except feed the chickens
and milk the ewes. But sometimes the birds come in summer and spring
and there's nothing he can do about it."

"Birds?"

"Messages… from people."

"Oh." Ash waited, but Cassy
said no more. "Can no one in the village help with the sheep?"

Cassy shook her head, sending her
auburn hair dancing. "No. We never talk to anyone in the Three
Villages. We keep to ourselves."

Ash thought that strange yet didn't say
so. Stepping out of her skirt and underskirt, she watched as Cassy
tested the bath. What was Angus afraid of? What made him hide his
family away?

"The water's not very hot, I'm
afraid. Father still imagines that girls are like men: One quick dunk
and we're done." Ash grinned. She liked Cassy very much. "Your
father's a kind man."

"Tell him that and he'd spend more
time denying it than he would if you swore he was a rogue."

Bracing herself against the coolness of
the water, Ash stepped into the iron basin. Cassy began making lather
with a hard wedge of charcoal soap and a linen cloth. Ash guessed the
cloth was Cassy's best, as it had little birds embroidered around the
border.

Cassy began washing Ash's hair
with the firm, capable movements of a girl who probably performed the
same duty each week on her sisters. "How long will you be gone?"
she asked as she poured rinse water over Ash's scalp. "If it's
all right to say."

"I don't know. Not long, I hope. A
month, perhaps." As she spoke, Ash imagined a map of the
Northern Territories in her head. The Storm Margin lay far to the
west, caught between the Coastal Ranges and the Wrecking Sea. She
knew only bits of things about the Margin; about the chain of
Floating Isles just off its coast that were surrounded by mist
year-round and where the Sull King Lyan Summerled was said to have
died; and about the Ice Trappers in the Far North, who camped upon
the sea ice in midwinter and chewed upon squares of frozen seal blood
like clansmen chewed upon curd. Far to the south lay the Seahold,
where the Trader Kings lived.

"I envy you."

Ash looked up to see Cassy Lok watching
her closely. It was in her mind to say something lighthearted and
dismissive, something about trekking across thick snow in winter not
being the sort of thing any sane person would envy, yet when she saw
the expression on Cassy's face, Ash knew instantly that Angus'
daughter meant what she said. Cassy Lok wasn't the sort of person to
say anything lightly. "I envy you," Ash replied, and meant
it.

A Moon Made of Blood

Breakfast was eaten in silence. Crusty
bread, smoked bacon, land mushrooms drenched in butter were washed
down with ewe's milk flavored with pine nuts. All the plates and cups
were made of white oak, so even the business of cutting and spearing
did little to break the hush.

Angus ate as slowly as a condemned man,
cutting his bacon into ever smaller bits until a substance resembling
sawdust filled his plate. Raif sat by the kitchen's only window, a
tub of wax floating in a bath of hot water by his side. Every now and
then he'd scoop some of the wax with a cloth and work it into his
bow. "Weatherproofing," he had said earlier to Beth, who
never stopped asking him questions. More often than not his gaze was
on the dark gray sky outside the window.

Cassy sat beside Ash on the bench
by the fire. They did not speak, but the silence between them was
comfortable. Cassy had Little Moo on her lap, and the little
blond-haired child was sucking on a rasher of bacon as stiff as a
twig. Darra Lok sat at the table with her husband and her middle
child. Every now and then Ash was aware of Darra's gaze upon her. She
pretended not to notice, but it worried her. What had Angus said to
his wife?

Angus chose that moment to push his
plate into the center of the table and stand. "We'd best be on
our way."

Everyone, including Raif, stood up on
hearing his words, and within seconds the Lok farmhouse became alive
with activity. Cassy ran upstairs to fetch Ash's things, Beth ran to
the stables to saddle the horses with Raif, Angus topped his rabbit
flask from a keg by the door, and Darra began winding the remains of
last night's ptarmigan in strips of waxed linen.

Ash started the long process of
wrapping, buckling, and caulking herself against the cold. She didn't
know if she was sorry to leave or not. Angus' family were close to
what she had always imagined a family should be, yet she had no place
in it, and that knowledge left her strangely cold.

She was Ash March, Foundling, left
outside Vaingate to die. The words—
her
words—made
her stronger, and she said her good-byes to Angus' family and went to
join Raif outside.

Saddlebags and bedrolls were buckled
onto the horses, last words were spoken, and then the three travelers
mounted and rode south through the forest of old trees.

Angus did not look back. Ash did, and
she saw Cassy Lok's hazel eyes filled with longing and Darra Lok's
blue ones filled with fear.

They followed the green river west for
many leagues, shoulders hunched against the wind, heads down, silent.
Storm clouds formed troughs and swells in the sky, and it wasn't long
before Ash felt rain spit against her face. Warm air driven south
before the storm had caused a minor thaw, and the snow underfoot was
wet, and not all pond ice could be trusted. Snowshoe was no dancer
like the bay, but she was a wily pony and soon learned to follow
Angus' gelding step for step. Gradually the old hardwoods gave way to
open fells and stunted pines.

After a noonday meal of cold salted
ptarmigan, Angus turned northwest toward the Bitter Hills. Ash sat
and suffered the wind and rain. She would have been grateful for any
sort of conversation, but neither Angus nor Raif had a mind to do
anything but ride.