Dalavar barked a laugh. 'With six Draega hunting? Not likely, my friend.'
Beau smiled then frowned. 'I'm a bit worried about the fire, what with Vulgs about and Foul Folk. I mean, won't they see the smoke?'
Dalavar's brow furrowed and he shook his head. 'As to the fire, the breeze blows what little smoke there is back the way we came, and I think with the avalanche now blocking this way into Gron, this passage is now abandoned by Modru's lackeys both within and without, for we scented no spoor of Spawn when we went to make the travois.'
In that moment, Greylight appeared at the mouth of the cave and dropped a hare to the snow. 'Ah,' said Dalavar, 'your breakfast meal is here.'
In late midmorn Tip awakened to the smell of coney sizzling on a spit above the fire, Beau squatting and turning it now and again.
'I have to pee, Beau, and I'd rather not foul this nest anymore.'
'Oh, Tip, but you are too-'
'Look, bucco, I'm going to go out there if I have to crawl.'
'No need for that,' said Dalavar, stepping into view and entering the hollow, the Mage stooping and moving inward. He took up the buccan and bore him outward, saying, 'I'm Dalavar of Darda Vrka, though some know me as the Wolfmage.'
'… and so, in the howl of the blizzard the Vulgs jumped us. I killed one with an arrow, though he bit me, and Auly killed the other one, though he was slain in doing so.' Tip paused and leaned back against the stone wall, gathering the remnants of his strength to continue. Beau gave him a drink of gwynthyme tea. Tipperton took a sip and then whispered on. 'My pony was dead, and Auly's horse was gone. More Vulgs were coming, and so I grabbed what I could and fled. I thought they would search for me down in the pass, so I climbed the slope and by pure happenstance found this cave and crawled inside.' Again Tip paused and took another sip of tea. After a while, and in spite of Beau's protestations, Tip took up the tale once more, his voice trembling with the effort. 'A bit later I realized that I was bitten, a Vulg bite, a poison bite, and, Beau, I swear, I heard you trying to remind me of the gwynthyme. I could make no tea such as this, but I ate some mint and I chewed some and spit the juice onto the wound and made a poultice, and… and… Oh well, you know the rest.' Tip paused, his breathing thready.
'Fortune turned Her smiling face your way, Waerling,' said Dalavar, 'for without Her favor you would not have found this cave and would now be buried out yon.'
Tip's eyes brimmed and he whispered, 'Like thirty thousand others, Dalavar. Thirty thousand.'
A grim look came over Dalavar's features. 'Modru has much to answer for.'
'If I could get my hands on him, I'd kill him dead,' growled Beau.
Dalavar looked at both Warrows. 'Leave vengeance for these deaths to me, my wee friends. Modru and I have crossed paths before, to his regret… though in that case as in yours, Tipperton, Fortune smiled down on me.'
Tip sighed and murmured, 'Fortune may have turned Her smile toward me in the end, but She was glaring ere then.'
'Be glad that Her hidden face remained turned away, else death under snow would have been sweet by compare.'
Beau shuddered. 'Oh, enough of this talk of Fortune's three faces and of dooms dire. Instead, let us have a look at that wound.'
Frowning slightly as Trace licked the gashes, Tip whispered, 'Won't it hurt him if some of the Vulg poison yet lies in the bite?'
Dalavar shook his head. 'Nay. Draega are not harmed by Vulg venom. Too, if some trace of the poison remained, then you would now be dead.'
With exhausted eyes, Tip glanced at Beau, and Beau said, 'Besides, Tip, the swelling has gone down a bit, I think due to the ministrations of Beam-she cleaned the wound yester. So let Trace do what he will and on the morrow we shall see again.'
Tip fell asleep watching.
'How many of the 'Wolves are there?' asked Tip, taking a bite of rabbit left over from the day before.
'Seven,' said Beau, 'though I haven't seen Shifter in a while. He's like the others, only a bit darker of fur.'
Longshank lay at the feet of the wounded buccan, watching with interest as Tip nibbled the cold meat.
They sat in silence for a while. Finally Tip finished off the bit of leg and looked at Beau. 'Do you think a rabbit bone will hurt this 'Wolf?'
Beau shrugged. 'Longshank? I don't see why it should. I mean. Wolves, regular Wolves, that is, they eat coneys raw, bones and all. And surely a Silver Wolf can outdo one of them.'
Tip held out the bone toward Longshank, and very gently the great beast took it from him, and then with a snap and a crunch it was gone.
'Well, that was short work, Longshank,' said Tip.
'Water?' asked Beau, filling a cup.
Tip nodded, and Beau handed the cup to him and then filled another for himself.
As Tipperton took a small sip, he looked across the cup at the exit from the cave. 'I say, Beau, when will we be leaving?'
Beau frowned, then said, 'As soon as you can walk out from here and pee on your own.'
'Oh,' said Tip, disappointed. Then-'Now that you mention it, Beau…'
On the sixth day after being freed by the Draega, Tip managed to totter from the cave without any aid. When he returned on shaking legs he smiled and declared, 'Time to go.'
Dalavar took one look at the buccan standing and sweating and trembling, then the Wolfmage turned to Beau. 'We have a travois.'
Beau shrugged. 'On the morrow?'
Dalavar nodded. 'On the morrow.'
With a grunt, Tipperton sat down, unable to stand any longer.
The following dawn, Dalavar scrambled up to the rim above and, using Tipperton's rope, hauled up all the gear. Beau's bindle blanket was then used to complete the bed of the travois. Then Dalavar hauled up the buccen: Tipperton first, then Beau.
Longshank came to be harnessed to the travois, and Tip and his bow and lute were roped in. As Dalavar stepped out somewhere ahead, Beau settled all saddlebags across Draega backs-Beam, Trace, and Seeker each carrying pouches. And when that was done, Beau leapt astraddle Shimmer.
Greylight looked at Beau, and then turned and trotted away, the other Draega following… and 'round a bend they caught up to Shifter, the dark 'Wolf waiting there.
And across the snow-covered slopes they went: Shifter and Greylight in the lead, followed by Seeker then Long-shank haling the travois, with Shimmer and Beam after, and Trace bringing up the rear.
'Where's Dalavar?' called Tip back to Beau coming after.
Beau shrugged. 'He comes and goes-rather abruptly at times-but will show up tonight. At least he always has.'
It took nearly three days altogether for the pack just to reach the eastern end of the pass, some eleven or twelve leagues of travel, for in many places the going was slow, the travois a hindrance over the precipitous ways. And both Beau and Tipperton were glad to see the long, rolling stretches of Jord lying before them when they came down from the steeps. Even so, even though they had reached the relative flats, still the going was slow, for Longshank would not jounce the wee buccan he was drawing behind.
And so another two days, nearly three altogether, they fared ere the lights of Jallorby came into view, for they had pressed on into the night. And just after mid of night came, six great Silver Wolves trotted to the marge of that town, where they found Dalavar waiting.
He led them all to the White Horse Inn; and there he unladed the travois and set Tip on the edge of the porch as Beau retrieved the saddlebags.
'Well, let's go in,' said Beau, 'and have some hot mulled wine.'
Dalavar shook his head. 'Nay, my wee comrades, go on alone; my friends and I, we have many missions to attend to and we must be on our way. Yet I deem ere this war is ended, we shall meet again.'
'You're leaving?' asked Beau, his face chapfallen.
