Magic's Price

“Van -” Stef said hesitatingly. “Is this a good idea? I mean, I guess you used magic to do this, won't somebody spot it?”

Vanyel shook his head. “I used a Tayledras trick; it's how they shield their valleys. From the outside, even to Mage-Sight, this place looks absolutely the same as it did before we got here; snow- covered trees, and no humans. It'll stay that way until well after we've gone on.” He brushed snow from his cloak and grimaced. “There will still be a trace of magic-use here, though, and if my enemy knows I trained with the Tayledras he'll be able to track us by that, about two days behind our real trail. I'd rather not have done this, but 'Fandes said her joints were getting stiff and she had to get warm, so I didn't have much choice.”

Stef had a sneaking suspicion that 'Fandes had insisted as much for his sake as her own, and he gave her a look of gratitude he hoped she could read. To his astonishment, she turned to look right at him and gave him a slow, deliberate wink when Vanyel's back was turned, rummaging in the chirras' packs.

“Could we sort of change direction every once in a while to throw him off?” Stef said, hoping this meant Van was going to warm up their resting place every time they stopped.

“It won't do much good; he knows we're coming north after him, and there's only a limited number of ways we can travel.” Vanyel sighed, and looked over Stef's shoulder as if he wished they could get back on the road immediately.

Stefen ate his meal in silence. Yfandes sidled up to him and he leaned on her, grateful for the support and for her warmth. It looks like the best I can hope for is that he'll wait until I'm warm clear through before getting back on the road.

“At any rate, this is how we'll camp at night,” Vanyel continued, handing him cold meat, bread, and cheese, and two apples. “I don't want to stop at inns; there could be spies there, and I don't want this mage to know exactly where we are.”

Stef split his second apple and fed half to Yfandes and half to Melody. “Whatever you say, Van,” he replied, hoping he'd be able to get back on his horse when Vanyel wanted to leave. “As long as I can be with you.”

Seventeen

Snow fell, as it had fallen for the past three weeks, as it seemed it would continue to fall for the next three weeks. Not a blizzard; the wind, when there was one, was gentle, and the temperature relatively warm. But the snow was wet and heavy; good snow for playing in, as dozens of children making snow-beasts in their yards attested - but it increased their travel time fourfold. Ironically, considering how much stress Vanyel had put on the fact that he would leave Stef behind if he had to, the chirras were forcing a path through the snow for the two riding, and their progress was set by the chirras' pace.

“How many days can a snowstorm last?” Stef asked, huddled on Melody's back, shivering despite woolen underdrawers, a sweater and a shirt under his tunic, and two sweaters and his cloak over that.

“It's not the same storm, ashke,” Vanyel replied, as he consulted a map, then looked for landmarks. They were supposed to reach the last Guard outpost today, at least according to Vanyel's calculations. That outpost marked the end of the lands Valdemar claimed, and the beginning of territory held by no one except wolves - two and four - legged. And other things - the Pelagirs reached into that territory, and where they ended was anyone's guess. Probably only the Tayledras knew. It also marked the point at which Vanyel and Stefen's “easy” travel ended. They'd be leaving the chirras behind, and what little was left of the supplies, and going on with what Yfandes and Melody could carry - and what Vanyel could conjure up.

By now, Stef was no longer so sore in the morning that he would far rather have died than get up and remount his horse - but the cold never varied, and once out of their little shelter of mage-born warmth in the morning, he was chilled and miserable within a candlemark.

“What do you mean, it isn't one storm?” Stef asked. “It hasn't stopped snowing since we left Haven.”

“It's a series of storms, all coming out of the north,” Van replied, folding the map and storing it carefully in a special pocket on his saddle. “They generally blow out during the night, and a new one moves in just before dawn. The post isn't more than a couple of furlongs away; we should make it there by dusk.” He looked back critically at Stefen. “If they have it to spare, we should get you some warmer clothing. And a better cloak. If I had known you'd feel the cold this badly, I'd have gotten it for you before we left.”

Stefen held his peace.

“You're going to need it,” Vanyel continued, urging the chirra forward, with Yfandes following at its tail. “After this, when we leave the gear and the extra supplies, this trip is going to be much harder on you.”

And not on you? What are you made of, Van? Stone and steel? “I don't see how it can,” Stef replied, since for once, Van seemed to be waiting for an answer. “I'm already frozen most of the time.”