Crown of Ice (16 page)

“If it disappeared so far in the past, how can it be anything of yours?” Ravn’s dark eyes bore into me. “You’re quite young to have lost anything for many years.”

“I’m older than I look.” I draw up to my full height, which is several inches taller than Nicu Ravn.

The other wanderers take several steps forward, tightening their circle. I watch them out of the corner of my eye, noting the distrust on their faces. One blast of my magic could disperse them but I don’t wish to disclose my identity yet. I must first uncover the location of the shard.

“Another girl stumbled into our camp about a week ago.” Ravn draws a knife from a leather sheath fastened to his belt. He examines its gleaming blade, turning it over and over against the palm of his hand. “She claims to be looking for something as well. But her lost object is some boy. You wouldn’t happen to be seeking the same thing, now would you?”

“No.” So Gerda’s here. I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a swear word from flying off my tongue. “I’m seeking a simple piece of glass—a fragment of a mirror.”

Ravn’s eyes narrow. “Broken glass? This is your treasure?” He throws the knife up in the air and catches it by the handle. With one sweep of his arm he thrusts the weapon forward until the point of the blade is tickling my chin. “Why do you need a scrap of mirror, Thyra Winther?”

I press one finger against the blade and push the knife toward Ravn’s chest. “That’s my business.”

“Perhaps, but I’m making it mine.” Ravn whistles and two men step out of the circle and stride to his side. “You’ve ridden into my camp, demanding some object that I’ve no way of knowing really belongs to you.” Ravn gives me a broad smile and taps the knife lightly against his front teeth. “There’s something not quite right about you, Thyra Winter. Not sure what it is, but I can tell you’re not being entirely honest with me. I think until you’re willing to tell us the truth you should cool your heels with our other little friend.”

I consider my options. I could unleash an icy blast or simply freeze anyone who attempts to touch me. But I’ve no desire to display my true powers at this point. Logic tells me that these wanderers are adept at disappearing if threatened. A storm could scatter them and leave me no closer to finding the shard than when I entered the forest.

“You needn’t put hands on me.” I hand Freya’s reins to Ravn. “Just promise to take good care of my mare, and I’ll come with you quietly.”

Ravn’s eyes rake over my face. “We always treat animals with respect. As well as girls who don’t lie or try to steal from us.” He gives a jerk of his head and the two brawny men move to flank me. “We’ll talk again later, Thyra Winther. I’ve a feeling that you’ll have more to tell me once you’ve time to think things over.”

The men march me to the edge of the clearing, where I spy a small stone shed hidden beneath the drooping limbs of a pine tree. One of the wanderers pulls an ornate metal key from his pocket and opens the padlock that holds the wooden door fast. Without a word the other man shoves me through the half-open portal. I stumble and fall onto the hard-packed dirt floor, catching myself with my hands. The door slams behind me, and I hear the rattle of the padlock as the key is turned, sealing me inside a small, windowless room. It’s dark and musty—the only air seeps in through the bundles of thatch that cover the wooden rafters. I slump back onto my heels and glance about me, but can’t see anything except the vague outlines of lumpy sacks and wooden boxes.

One of the sacks shifts and I realize that it’s a person, curled against one stack of boxes. “Who’s there?” asks my fellow prisoner.

I recognize that voice. “Just another traveler,” I tell Gerda. “Caught by the wanderers while searching for something I’ve lost.”

“You’re a woman?” Gerda’s voice radiates relief. Of course it’s only natural that she’d fear some strange man thrown into a locked room with her.

“Yes. And you, it seems.”

“I’m just a girl.” Gerda shifts again and I hear the rustle of her gown and petticoats. “I wish I could see you, or move closer, but they’ve tied my ankle to a ring in the wall.”

“Oh,” I think quickly. There’s no advantage in Gerda getting a good look at me. I’ve abandoned my illusionary appearance to give my mind a respite. “Me too.”

“Really?” There’s a tinge of suspicion coloring Gerda’s voice. “But no one came in with you, did they?”

I don’t reply and Gerda sighs deeply. “Or maybe they did,” she says, desperation sharpening her tone. “I don’t know anymore. It seems I’ve lost all sense of time.”

“What’s your name?” I settle back against the rough stone wall.

“Gerda. Gerda Lund. What’s yours?”

“Clara,” I reply, using the first name that comes to mind. “Clara Hess.”

“I know a Clara.” A wistful note creeps into Gerda’s voice. “She’s my friend. She helped me, gave me her own jewels to aid me on my journey. But the wanderers took them, of course. They stole everything, and threw me in here. I’d be dead, I think, except that their leader’s daughter took pity on me and begged her father to spare my life.”

“Well, that’s one blessing.” I calculate the odds that Gerda, once freed, will simply return home. “Excuse my curiosity, but why are you traveling on your own, a young girl like you?”

Gerda’s shadowy form straightens. “I’m looking for someone. A friend who’s disappeared. I’m trying to find him so that I can convince him to come home.”

“Him? A boy, then?”

“A young man,” says Gerda. “He’s seventeen.”

“He’s surely old enough to travel. Why do you feel such a need to track him down?”

“His father’s gravely ill. He was caught in a great blizzard and now lies like one dead, seeing and hearing nothing.” Gerda’s words are spoken simply, but with great firmness. “Kai was upset over that, and felt guilty, though it wasn’t his fault. Not at all. It was just some freak winter storm. No one’s fault.”

Oh, Gerda, there is fault. But none that can ever receive your forgiveness. Or Kai’s.
No, these thoughts can’t touch me. Make them fade. Let it go.

I press against the wall until the sharp edges of the stones bite into my back. “So, Kai. That’s your friend’s name?”

“Yes, Kai Thorsen. He’s needed at home, you see. His family’s quite frantic with worry. My family too. We’ve been friends forever and are very close.”

“And you? You’re upset that he’s gone, obviously. Is he …” I lighten my tone. “Is Kai more than a friend to you? Your sweetheart, perhaps?”

Gerda’s silent for a moment. “Not exactly,” she says at last, her voice very soft. “I mean, he wouldn’t say so.”

“And you? What would you say?” There is no real advantage in pursuing this line of questioning, but my curiosity overwhelms my logic.

“Oh, I hope to be, one day. I do love him. I guess I always have. But Kai’s very clever. He’s the smartest boy in our village.” Admiration shines through Gerda’s words. “So of course he wants to go to the university to study.”

“I see.” I sit forward, lacing my fingers together in my lap. “You’ll wait for him, I suppose. And when he returns to the village after his schooling you can marry.”

“Yes, well …” Gerda’s voice falters. “I’d rather marry sooner than that. I’m almost sixteen, you know, and many girls in my village marry at that age. But Kai won’t hear of it. He says he can’t think of such things until he’s finished with his studies.”

“He sounds very wise.”

“That’s what my family says. They like the fact that he wants to be able to provide for me, but …”

“But?” I fight to keep any hint of irritation out of my tone.

Gerda’s silent for a few minutes. When she speaks again, her voice trembles slightly. “Well, you’re a woman. What do you think? I can’t help but wonder, if someone loves you—really loves you—wouldn’t they want to spend as much time with you as possible? I mean, as soon as they could? I’d be willing to marry Kai even without money, even if he’s in school for years and years and we have to scrimp and make do or go hungry some days. Just so we’re together. That’s all that matters.”

“You love him that much?” I contemplate Gerda’s shadowy form. She’s very young, of course, and ignorant of anything except her secluded corner of the world. I suppose her life holds few options other than marriage and children. I shift my position on the hard ground, concentrating on several equations to calm a strange wave of anxiety.

“Yes. I haven’t told him all this, you understand. He knows I love him as a friend, but nothing more. I’ve never felt …” Gerda’s voice cracks. “I’ve never been sure he feels the same, so I’ve been afraid to be so bold. Although this past year I’ve tried to do more to share my feelings, to show him how much I care.”

“As you are now, by trailing him to the ends of the world?”

Gerda’s head drops to her chest. “I suppose so.”

“So you end up here, imprisoned, with no one to help you. I doubt your Kai would be happy to hear that.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“I imagine”—I allow a tiny vine of magic to coil about my words—“Kai would prefer you safe at home, waiting patiently for his return.”

“But what if he doesn’t return?” Gerda’s voice is shaking. “What if he finds some other place, some other life he likes better? What then?”

“Then you must make a different life for yourself as well,” I reply firmly. “Listen, Gerda. I may be able to get us out of here, but if I do, will you promise to go home and abandon this foolish quest?”

Gerda claps her hands. “Oh, Clara, really? I must get away from here and if you can help, I’d be so grateful.” She sighs deeply. “But of course, I can’t promise you I’ll give up searching for Kai. I’d never promise that, even if my life depended on it.”

“It might,” I say, grinding my teeth.

“So be it. My life isn’t worth much if I lose Kai.”

I hear Gerda’s sharp intake of breath as a swear word flies out of my mouth. “Honestly, your life’s still valuable, Gerda, with or without some young man.” I rise to my feet. “Love’s not worth losing your life.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Gerda says softly as the padlock rattles against the wooden door.

Light floods the room and I remember in that moment to alter my visage to match my first appearance in the clearing. One of the wanderers’ bulky figures fills the doorway. “You,” he barks, pointing at me. “Follow me. Ravn wants to speak with you.”

I move swiftly to the door, feeling Gerda’s eyes on me. She obviously realizes that I lied before, when I claimed to be chained to the wall, but I shrug off that minor complication. If my plan works she’ll not see me again.

“Stay strong, Clara,” Gerda calls out as I’m grabbed by the elbow and shoved out the door. “I’ll be praying for you.”

Outside the small building the wanderer locks the door behind us. “So it’s Clara now, is it?” He bares his teeth in a grimace that reminds me of a cornered wolf. “Well, well, Ravn will be interested to hear that.” He grips my arm and pulls me toward a wagon that’s enclosed in a wooden frame. It resembles a small house on wheels.

I climb meekly into the caravan, imagining the ice and snow I’ll conjure when I flee this place, the shard safely tucked into my saddlebags. A storm the likes of which these people have never seen. A tale of devastation to tell for many years, around innumerable campfires.

THE LURE OF FARAWAY LANDS

Stepping into the caravan transports me to another world. The wood interior’s painted gleaming white, a perfect backdrop for the riot of brilliant fabrics that drape the walls. Lanterns hung on wrought iron brackets cast an amber glow.

Ravn is standing at the far end of the wagon, his back to the entrance. My escort crosses swiftly to the shorter man and whispers something in his ear before brushing roughly past me and taking up a position just outside the door.

Seated cross-legged on one of the upholstered benches that line the two longer walls is a young girl. She’s wearing a voluminous white blouse over crimson breeches. Her dark eyes shine like enameled buttons in her olive-skinned face.

She runs one hand through her lustrous black hair. “What’s your name? Are you a friend of Gerda?” The girl shoots a glance at Ravn’s back. “Who is she, Papa?”

“That’s the problem, Mirela. We don’t really know.” Ravn turns to face me. “Apparently she possesses more than one name.”

I lift my chin and level my most imperious gaze on the dark-haired man. “I am Thyra Winther. I told you that before.”

“So who’s this Clara our other prisoner mentioned?”

“It’s an alias, of course.” I shrug. “The girl’s
your
prisoner. I assume you’ve good reason to keep her captive. Why would I give some thief or vandal my real name?”

“Gerda’s not a thief!” Mirela leaps to her feet. “She’s just a girl searching for her lover.”

Ravn shifts from foot to foot under his daughter’s fierce gaze. “She was trespassing, like you, Thyra Winther. And as for her excuse …” Ravn casts a warning look at Mirela. “I’m not convinced by her story. She’s far too young to be tracking a missing sweetheart.”

Mirela tosses her head. “She’s not. She’s only a little younger than me.”

“My point,” says Ravn firmly.

I examine the two faces before me. Mirela’s mouth is pursed in a pout, while Ravn’s lips are pressed tightly together. I suspect there’s a story behind their words—perhaps something I can turn to my advantage.

“I can’t imagine such a girl’s any threat to you.” I smile coolly as Ravn unsheathes his knife. “And I certainly pose no danger.” I watch Ravn toy with the weapon and consider freezing those long, tapering fingers until they blacken and fall from his hands.

Ravn slices the air with the knife. “That remains to be seen. Now, take a seat and tell me, why do you seek a piece of a broken looking-glass?” He points the tip of the blade toward the side of the caravan.

I stride to the padded bench and sit, keeping my eyes on Ravn and his knife. Mirela settles into the cushions next to me. “It’s part of a mirror that belongs to my master, the mage Mael Voss. Perhaps you’ve encountered him during your travels?”

Ravn’s eyes narrow. “I’ve heard the name.”

I lean into the embroidered pillows behind my back. “If you know of Voss, then you’re also aware of his power. While he may not be able to track you everywhere, his reach is long. Do you wish to anger him? You may find your travel restricted to lands that lie far from Voss’s realm.”