In Stone's Clasp (14 page)

“Then we were lucky,” said Kevla. She recalled something else Mylikki had said. “Who is the Ice Maiden? I’ve heard that name before. Is she the one who brings the snow in the winter?”

Stirring the pot, Mylikki shook her head. “No, the term ‘ice’ was never meant to be taken literally. At least, not originally. It’s an old song cycle called ‘Circle of Ice,’ about a girl whose heart was broken and who decides to wreak vengeance on all men because of it. It has nothing to do with winter. But when the winter started to last so long,” Mylikki continued, “people grew fearful. We knew this could not be the gods’ doing—they bring spring and rebirth, not winter. Something must be preventing them from tending to us. The only story we had was the Ice Maiden, and she took on this new aspect of eternal winter.”

She smiled, wistfully. “That always used to upset Altan,” she said, her voice tender. “He felt this new interpretation ruined the story by trying to make it literal. ‘The Ice Maiden has a
heart
of ice, not a
body
of ice,’ he said.”

Kevla looked at the wall of snow surrounding them. “It
is
all a story, isn’t it?”

Mylikki looked up from the
kyndela.
“Something’s gone wrong. It could just as likely be the Ice Maiden as anything else.”

“Will you sing one of the songs for me?”

“Most of them are meant to be sung by a man. Each song tells a story, and each story is part of the whole. Let’s wait until Altan is with us, and we can both perform for you.”

“What about the
taaskali?
Tell me about them.”

“Well, I only know what I’ve been told. They’re supposed to look more like you than like us,” said Mylikki. She reached for a ladle and spooned up some hot stew for herself and Kevla. “They have dark skin, eyes, and hair, and are believed to have all kinds of magical talents. They are believed to be closer to the gods than we are. They follow and tend the herds of the white
selva,
whose milk can bestow long life. A cloak woven from their fur can turn arrows.” She ate a bite of stew. “I’ve never met anyone who’s actually met a
taaskal,
or even seen a
selva.
But when we saw you standing on the hill, with your dark skin and hair and wearing only this light little garment—well, you can understand why we thought you a
taaskal.
”

Kevla nodded and ate hungrily. She listened to the howling wind outside, and for the thousandth time, it seemed, was grateful for the Dragon’s presence. She hoped that Altan had found shelter and that they would locate him soon. They finished the meal in silence, washed the bowls, utensils, and cauldrons in the snow and packed them back in the sacks. Mylikki pulled out several blankets and prepared to make a bed. Kevla rose and went to help her.

“That should be big enough for both of us,” Mylikki declared, lying down.

Kevla was taken aback. She knew nothing of Lamali customs. She had thought Mylikki was pining for Altan, but then again, there were some who appreciated the beauty of both sexes.

“I am fond of you, Mylikki,” Kevla began, “and it’s not that I don’t think you are attractive, but…”

Mylikki stared at her for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed. “And you are attractive as well, Kevla, but I have no desire for your body. I am used to sleeping close beside others, and I will be honest—though you do not need the warmth, I do. If that is all right with you.”

Kevla felt her cheeks grow hot. “Of course.”

As Kevla crawled into the blankets beside her and took the other girl into her arms, snuggling so that Mylikki’s thin body curved into hers, Mylikki said, “Thank you, Kevla. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t volunteer my warmth,” Kevla said. Impulsively, she squeezed Mylikki gently and the other girl nestled closer.

“You should be happy we’re clothed,” Mylikki said, and Kevla could hear the mirth in her voice. “When someone has gotten too cold, the best way to warm him is skin to skin.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” Kevla said wryly.

They lay in comfortable silence for a time, then Mylikki said into the darkness, “Kevla…do you know much about men?”

Kevla tensed. “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering…well, I think it’s pretty obvious that I care about Altan.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Sometimes…sometimes he makes me think there is.”

“What do you mean?”

Mylikki was silent for a moment, then said, “When he came to Arrun Woods…I’d never felt anything like that before, not with other boys. He made me feel like I was a queen.”

Kevla thought about how Jashemi made her feel.
I belong to you completely, Kevla. I always have, and I always will.
She tried not to remember anything more.

“But then, one evening he performed the Ice Maiden cycle, and on the second song—one in which a young man seduces a woman he doesn’t love because his heart is bound to the Ice Maiden—he stared right at me and he looked…disgusted with me.”

Kevla felt her draw breath, and softly sing a verse.

She was trying to keep the pain out of her voice, but failing. Kevla hugged her tighter, feeling her move to wipe her face. “Why would he do such a thing?” Kevla asked.

“I don’t know. But the next day he was as sweet as ever, as if nothing had happened. It’s very confusing. Have you ever been in love, Kevla?”

Quietly, Kevla answered, “Yes.”

“What happened? Did he—did he abandon you?”

If only that had happened. I would have a broken heart, but he would be alive.
“No. He died.”

“Oh, Kevla, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

Kevla shushed her with a gentle pat. “It’s all right. It’s just—I don’t know much about how men treat women here, so I can’t really advise you.”

“When we find him, will you tell me what you think of him?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I love him, Kevla.” The words were a hushed whisper, issuing forth in the anonymous darkness. “I love him with all my heart, even though I’ve only known him a short time. I’d do anything for him. Anything. But I don’t know if he wants me. I don’t—I don’t want to end up like the Ice Maiden, alone and angry and hurt….”

“You’re a wonderful girl, Mylikki. Let’s see what the future holds before we fear it. Now, go to sleep. And no dreams of Ice Maidens and snow.”

Kevla poked her head out to a dim morning. Despite her admonition to Mylikki, she herself had slept fitfully, haunted by dreams of a beautiful woman made of ice. She stretched and crawled outside. The Dragon’s head hung above her, his nostrils flaring. He exhaled two small puffs of smoke.

“It is overcast, but not snowing,” the Dragon said, lowering his head for her caress. “We can fly for some time.”

“That is well,” said Kevla. “Perhaps it is just that this land seems so alien to me, but I am anxious to find Altan and the Stone Dancer and leave this place.”

“It is not your unfamiliarity with this place that makes you feel so,” the Dragon assured her. “We need to be on our guard.” He eyed her. “We are not alone.”

She looked in the direction he had indicated. The air was thick and gray and it was hard to see, but she could have sworn she saw a movement in the forests. On the soft, powdery surface of the fresh snow, Kevla noticed a cold glitter that caught what little light there was. It was a thin ribbon of ice that curled in on itself in a sort of ring.

“What is it?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

“Men,” the Dragon said. “They’ve been here all night.”

“The wild men?”

The Dragon cocked his head in a gesture that Kevla knew meant he was puzzled by something. “Perhaps. There’s something awry with them, Kevla. They smell…wrong.”

“Why didn’t they attack?”

Slowly, the Dragon looked down at her with a faintly amused expression and she burst out laughing. Even if the men in the forest had seen her and Mylikki last night, two apparently defenseless women, they had been completely sheltered by a huge dragon. An army would think twice about attacking.

Mylikki crawled out from underneath the Dragon and smiled. “Hearing you laugh, Kevla, makes me think the day is off to a wonderful start.”

Kevla’s mirth faded, but she kept the smile in place for Mylikki’s sake. She did not want to alarm the girl. Besides, soon they would be many leagues from here.

“The day seems clear,” Mylikki said, gazing up at the blue sky. “I am sure we will find Altan today!”

Kevla and the Dragon exchanged glances. Kevla desperately hoped so, too; hoped they would find the youth alive. The storm last night had been severe. If he had not been able to find shelter…

Kevla and Mylikki ate a quick meal of tea and dried fruit, then gathered their belongings and climbed aboard the Dragon. The day was bright and clear and they could see for leagues. Mylikki had sketched a simple map in the snow, showing them where they would be headed. Riversong was not too far away.

There were no tracks to follow from Galak-by-the-Lake, of course; the storm had seen to that. Kevla had hoped to see telltale
skeltha
trails leading to the village of Riversong, but there was nothing.

A small cluster of houses appeared below them, dotted along the gentle curve of a bright, frozen river.

“Riversong,” Mylikki said dully.

“He could have weathered the storm in the village,” Kevla said.

Mylikki shook her head. “He couldn’t get there in just two days.” Her voice was thick and laced with fear. “And not with another storm earlier.”

At once, the Dragon lowered a wing and made a smooth circle, turning back to retrace their path. “We will find him,” he assured the two women. “I will fly closer to the ground, to see if I can catch his scent.”

Even as he spoke, Kevla felt her friend’s thoughts brush hers.
See if you can sense him, Kevla. He might not be the Stone Dancer, but he is important in our quest.

I’ll try,
Kevla thought back. She closed her eyes and calmed her mind, extending her thoughts. She felt Mylikki’s arms around her tremble, felt the Dragon fly lower and lower until he was almost skimming the snow.

She was able to communicate with the Dragon by thinking words. Perhaps reaching Altan would be similar to that.

Altan. Singer of songs. Friend to the Stone Dancer. Let me know where you are….

Nothing. She opened her eyes, disappointment and apprehension surging through her. If only there were someone who could explain how this worked. How was she supposed to—

And then the knowledge came. Swift, sure, precise—as if she’d known it all along. She was so surprised by the revelation that it took her a moment to tell the others.

“The woods on the left,” she said. “He’s down there. I—I feel it.”

The Dragon headed for the forest she had indicated. He came to ground in a clear area at the edge of the woods and the two women dismounted.

“You sensed him?” Mylikki asked.

“I think so,” Kevla said.

“How?”

“I have no idea. My powers—even I don’t know their full extent. But I think he’s in here somewhere.”

She had been pleased, excited, but now realized that the forest was enormous. Mylikki was starting to breathe too quickly, fear for Altan consuming her.

Kevla grabbed her hands. “Mylikki, I know you’re worried, but I need you to be calm.” Mylikki turned her blue eyes to Kevla and nodded. Kevla entwined her fingers with those of her friend. “I want you to think of Altan. See him in your mind. Try to capture what it is about him that makes him special.”

Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but her mouth curved in a smile. “That will be easy.”

Kevla closed her eyes and concentrated. She had thought that perhaps she might see Altan in her own mind, but no image came. But one thing did come: a very clear sense of direction.

Squeezing Mylikki’s hands, she dropped them. “Dragon, wait here. I will call you when we’ve found him. Come on, Mylikki!”

They turned as one and stepped into the dark shade of the forest, leaving the Dragon behind. The trees grew thick and dark. Humans had not come here, and any small animal trails they might have followed were lost beneath the snow. The going was difficult, and more than once Kevla lost her footing in her thin sandals. She was grateful beyond words for the little sensations and thoughts that came to her;
turn left here, go a little farther there.
Mylikki was hard on her heels as they stumbled through the woods.

Without warning the forest opened into a small clearing. Large, snow-covered boulders jutted upward. Kevla knew they were close now. Her heart was racing.

“Call him,” she told Mylikki.

Mylikki cupped her hands around her mouth and cried Altan’s name. Her clear voice carried on the crisp air, but there was no answering call.

He’s hurt,
Kevla thought, not knowing how she knew. She closed her eyes and willed herself to find the boy. He was nearby, she was sure of it. She turned, her body being pulled by something she couldn’t control.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring directly at a small entrance into the jumble of boulders—a sliver of darkness she had missed before. The entrance had been almost completely covered by last night’s snowfall.

“There,” she said. “He’s in there.” She hurried to the boulder. Mylikki quickly joined her and both women pulled armloads of snow away from the entrance.

“Altan?” Mylikki called as they dug. “Altan, we’re coming, hang on!”

Finally, they had dug out enough snow so that Kevla could edge forward. Before she entered the darkness, she cupped her hand and called a small flame. She wriggled into the narrow opening, feeling her body heat melt the ice, and extended the hand that cupped the little fire.

The faint light illuminated a small cavern. She saw something in the darkness, a motionless shape lying beyond the reach of the small fire’s light.

Please be all right,
she thought, digging in with her left elbow and stretching out her right hand as far as she could. Suddenly she gasped and her body strained. There was a sudden, sharp drop-off and she almost tumbled forward.

As Altan had before her.

She could see him now, a huddled lump on the floor of the cavern. His cloak covered most of him, but she saw a white hand clutching a pack and a hint of golden curls.

She pulled back, closing her hand over the flame in her palm and extinguishing its insufficient light. “He’s here,” she told Mylikki, “but he’s hurt. Get me some branches, I need more light.”

Mylikki went pale, but did as she was told, returning a moment later with two sturdy branches. Kevla gave one to her and lit them both.

“Follow me,” she said. “Be careful. There’s a drop-off that comes up quite suddenly.”

The two women crawled forward. Kevla held the burning branch in her right hand and felt for the ledge with the other. Once she could see it, it was not tricky to negotiate. But Altan, crawling in blindly, half-frozen from the storm, had been at its mercy.

She turned over, swung her legs underneath her and lowered herself carefully. Her feet touched sturdy stone. She reached up to help Mylikki descend. Once Mylikki’s legs hit the earth she hastened to Altan, pulling the cloak from his pale face and grasping his hand in hers.

“Altan?” she said, her voice cracking.

He was so still…. Kevla reached in between them, feeling for a pulse on his throat. It was there—thready and faint, but there. Wedging the branch in a crack between the rocks so the light would stay steady, she saw that the boy—for he was in truth little more than a boy, perhaps even younger than Mylikki—was unnaturally pale and his lips were a dark color.

Kevla had been trained as a healer, but she had never before had cause to treat anyone who lay nearly frozen to death. Sickness from the heat, burns from the sun, yes, but not this. So instead of relying on training, she reached for instinct. She found both of Altan’s hands and clasped them to her heart. At the same time she leaned forward and slipped her hand down Altan’s throat, past the collar of his cloak and shirt, and onto his bare skin.

“What are you doing?” Mylikki asked.

Kevla ignored her. She closed her eyes and called the power that dwelt inside her.

No rushing surge of heat, not this time; she needed the gentle, steady warmth of the ember, not the licking, consuming conflagration of flame. She felt her body grow warmer, felt that warmth penetrate into Altan’s body from his hands on her heart and her hand on his. She tried to see the heat in her mind’s eye, as it moved along his body, into his skin, his blood, his bones.

“He needs more,” she told Mylikki, thinking even as she spoke:
Dragon! We need your help!

“His clothes are soaked,” Mylikki said, quickly divesting the young
huskaa
of his outer garments.

Something flashed through Kevla’s mind. He was in a fragile state, like a wounded man…. “Cut the clothing off,” she cried. “Don’t move him too much.”

“I don’t have a knife,” Mylikki began, but she was cut off by a crashing sound that made the earth tremble. Dirt and small rocks showered them. Scarcely had they recovered from this than they heard the horrifying, grinding sound of the boulders above them moving. Mylikki screamed and ducked, covering Altan’s body with hers to protect him from the huge rocks that were sure to come crashing down on all three of them.

Instead, the boulder moved upward, and sunlight streamed in. Kevla looked up and saw the dear face of the Dragon. He had come when she needed him. Her heart surged with love for her friend.

“Altan’s almost frozen to death,” Kevla said to him. “We need the packs!”

The Dragon dropped them down and Mylikki dove on them, finding the knife and cutting at Altan’s clothing. The fabric was almost frozen stiff.

While Mylikki removed Altan’s garments, Kevla fumbled for the blankets. She looked again at the youth. He was moving now, and a soft groan escaped his lips. Kevla rolled him gently to one side and then the other so she could tuck the blankets around him. His skin was almost icy to the touch.

He was bare to the waist now. Where his flesh was exposed, Kevla covered it with the blanket as best she could. Mylikki was at the boy’s feet, trying to tug off his boots. Kevla went to help her. Once the boots were off Mylikki started to fold the blanket up around Altan’s lower body, but Kevla stayed her hand.

“The breeches,” she said. “They are soaked through as well.”

Mylikki nodded. She and Kevla cut away the breeches and Altan lay naked before them. Slender, almost ice-white, with golden hair catching the light at groin and crown, he looked as beautiful and as fragile as a dying
liah
to Kevla.

She thought about how Mylikki had described Altan’s voice; strong, beautiful, pure. A voice that Kevla now realized she might never hear. The thought infuriated and grieved her.
No!
Kevla thought.
That voice will not be silenced!

What was it Gelsan had said? Skin to skin contact, and a gentle steady warming was what was called for when someone was in Altan’s state. Mylikki had confirmed it last night:
You should be happy we’re clothed…. When someone has gotten too cold, the best way to warm him is skin to skin.
Heedless now of her own modesty or his, knowing only that she needed to warm him with the fire that burned deep inside her heart, Kevla tore off her
rhia
and lay beside him. She stretched the entire length of her body against his, twining long legs and arms about him. His chest pressed against her breasts, his limp
kurjah
brushed against her
sulim.
At another time, it might have been an intimate embrace, but for Kevla, it was devoid of eroticism. Altan hung suspended between life and death.

“Wrap us tightly!” she cried. Mylikki did so, tucking the blanket snugly around them. Kevla looked up to see the Dragon sitting on his haunches, golden eyes full of concern.

“Dragon, hold us!”

Kevla felt herself and the barely conscious Altan being lifted and pressed to the Dragon’s breast. His scales were very warm, almost but not quite hot, and Kevla felt her own body heat up again. Heart to heart they lay in the Dragon’s paws, Kevla-sha-Tahmu and a boy she had never before seen, bodies entangled in life-giving warmth.