Dalavar shook the snow from the bough and the limb and stooped inside and began breaking off stems. 'This will get us started,' said the Wolfmage. 'Greylight, Seeker, Longshank, and Trace have gone for more.'
'Here,' said Beau, turning toward his saddlebags, 'I'll get out my flint and steel and tinder, and then we'll have us a-'
But at that moment a ruddy flicker lighted the hollow. Beau turned back to see Dalavar feeding barren twigs into a small flame. How the Wolfmage had started the blaze, Beau could not say. Even so, he took up Tip's tin cup and added a bit of water to it and said, 'Here, set this to boil.' Dalavar arranged three rocks about the tiny fire and set the cup atop, the flames licking the tin bottom.
After soaking the wounds and cleaning away the yellowish skims of forming scabs and draining the pus as best he could, Beau said, 'Oh Adon, Tip may lose his arm.' Tears welled up in Beau's eyes and he turned to the Wolfmage. 'Oh, Dalavar, I-I've never cut off a limb before, though I've seen it done on the battlefield. It was awful, the knives, the saws… the screaming. And now I may have to do the same, though I don't even have… I don't even have…' Beau's words choked to a halt, and he could not bring himself to say what it was he didn't have.
Beau turned to see Beam licking Tip's wounds. 'Here, now, Beam,' protested Beau, starting to rise, but Dalavar reached out a hand and stopped the buccan.
'Let her treat him, Beau. You've done all the cleansing you can. Now let her do her best. When she is finished, lay on your poultice and bandage him. On the morrow, we shall see.'
Sometime nigh mid of night, Tipperton opened his eyes and in the flicker of firelight looked up to see Beau smiling down.
'Oh, hullo, Beau,' he rasped, his voice but a whisper. 'I was having the most horrible drea-' Tipperton glanced about, his eyes flying wide in panic at the sight of the great 'Wolf lying at his side, and he scrabbled feebly at the rubble, trying but failing to get away, moaning.
'Tip, Tip, it's not a Vulg,' said Beau, embracing Tipperton to keep him from flailing. 'Not a Vulg. It's a Draega, a Silver Wolf instead. Her name is Beam. She's a friend.'
Yet thrashing, Tip looked wildly at Beau. 'Shh, shh, Tip,' soothed Beau. 'She's not a Vulg, not a Vulg, but a friend instead; a Silver Wolf. Remember the song Phais sang in Bridgeton; Draega are deadly foe of the Vulgs.'
Allayed by Beau, his panic subsiding, Tip timorously looked at the 'Wolf, and Beam cocked her head side to side and looked back.
Beau reached down and turned Tip's face toward him.
'Dalavar says not to look them directly in the eye; they don't take kindly to such boldness.'
Now Tip glanced at the stone overhead and rasped, 'Oh my, I'm still in the cave. It wasn't a dream after all.'
'No, bucco. It wasn't a dream.'
Tip strained to reach… to reach… but fell back. 'My cup, Beau. It's in a crack somewhere.'
Beau snatched up his waterskin and filled one of the tin cups, then supported Tip and aided him to drink. After that cup and two more, Tip looked up at Beau cradling him. 'Oh, Beau, it's so good to see you. How did you get here? Did you come across Agron's army? Are they all right? The blizzard… the slide…'
Tears filled Beau's eyes. 'Oh, bucco, I bring ill news. King Agron, his army, we think they're all dead. The avalanche…'
Tip fell asleep weeping.
Beau came awake in time to add another branch to the dying embers, rekindling the small fire. As he turned he found Tip struggling to sit upright, sucking air through his teeth from the pain.
'Here, bucco, let me help,' said Beau, scrabbling over rubble and past Beam in order to get to Tip, where he helped Tip to sit up and slide hindward to place his back against the side wall of the cave for support, the wounded buccan groaning a bit from the pain of movement.
Tip smiled weakly. 'You wouldn't happen to have something to eat, now would you? I'm rather famished. Thirsty, too.'
Beau snatched up his waterskin and a saddlebag and, as he filled a cup with water, said, 'I've some crue and jerky.'
'Crue please. I don't have the strength for jerky.'
Tip took the cup and drank it all down, then Beau handed him a biscuit. As Tip took a bite, he laughed softly.
Beau looked across at him. 'What?'
Tip chewed long moments and then swallowed. 'I was just remembering what you said at a morning meal just before we entered Drearwood, Beau.' As Beau frowned in puzzlement, Tip said, 'You asked, 'Is anything else as tasteless as a crue biscuit?' and then added, 'And jerky is called jerky 'cause it's so accursed tough that it'll jerk your teeth out by the roots just trying to gnaw off a simple bite.' That's what you said, bucco. But let me tell you, right now this crue biscuit tastes quite scrumptious.' Tip took another bite.
Beau smiled and watched as Tip chewed, a cup at hand in the event Tip asked for more water.
Tip glanced at Beam and then turned to Beau. 'Where did she come from? I mean, when last I saw you, you were lying abed in a prison, just back from Death's door. And the plague, what of the plague? And by the bye, I ate all of the gwynthyme and silverroot, or most of it, that is: two bundles, five roots. Oh, some of the gwynthyme I put on the Vulg bite.'
'It probably saved your life, Tip. -The gwynthyme, I mean. Just as it saved mine.' Of a sudden Beau's eyes widened and he said, 'Oh my.'
Tip looked left and right, then asked around a mouthful of crue. 'What?'
'Well, it just struck me, Tip: Modru's plague…'
Tip waited, and then gestured with the remainder of the biscuit.
'Oh,' said Beau, as if returning from wherever his thoughts had taken him. 'Modru's plague, it needed gwynthyme and silverroot to allay it. Silverroot I had, but no gwynthyme. Bekki knew where there was some. You and Bekki harvested it. The plague was put down. You had some gwynthyme with you when you were Vulg bitten and it kept you from dying. Dalavar and the Draega came because Dalavar wanted to see the one who had found the cure for the plague. He helped me to come after you. And it was the Silver Wolves who found you, buried behind snow in this cave.'
Beau fell silent, and Tip cocked an eyebrow.
'Oh, Tip, don't you see? Everything is connected. Because of Modru's Plague, Greylight found you,'
'Greylight?'
'Another of the Draega.'
Tip glanced at Beam, and then said, 'Beau, it was a long chain of events that put me here, and a long chain that brought you to this same place. As to cause and effect, there is no direct link between Modru's plague and our being together at this place at this time. No, this chain was forged link by link, and it easily could have gone a different direction.'
'But don't you see, it didn't, Tip. It didn't. All the links led to this place and no other.'
Tip sighed and took the last bite of the biscuit, but managed to say, 'Just where is this Dalavar you've mentioned several times?'
Beau looked at the opening of the cave. 'Oh, he took my rope and knife and went off with several of the Draega. Said he would be back before daylight.'
Beau filled the cup with water and handed it to Tip, then crawled forward to place another branch on the fire. As he did so there came a clink of tin on stone, and Beau turned to find Tip asleep, the empty tin cup by his side. Beau crawled back and eased the sleeping buccan away from the wall to lie down next to Beam.
Dalavar returned just ere dawn. He said something to Beam, and that great 'Wolf went out from the small cave, and Trace came inward to take her place.
'I have made a travois, Beau, and as soon as Tipperton is strong enough to travel, we will head for Jallorby.'
'D' y' think we can drag him back across the Gronfangs? I mean, some of that passage was right hard.'
Dalavar smiled. 'I have asked my friends if they would be willing to harness up and haul him. Eaeh of them said yes.'
Beau looked at Tip. 'He ate something and I think his fever is down, though he is still quite flush. And with that arm… well, it could be awhile. We could run out of food.'
