his mouth as if tasting something unpleasant. Then he looked at Beau and barked a laugh and immediately winced from the sound.
'Wha'r' you laughing about, bucco?' whispered Beau.
'Your eyes, Beau. Your eyes. They look like two yellow holes in the snow.'
'You're one to talk, my friend, you who are about to bleed to death through those ruddy orbs of yours.'
Tip groaned and started to crawl from the bed only to draw back in haste. 'Beau,' he hissed, 'we've guests.'
Beau looked over the edge of the berth. 'Um, that'd be, uh, Dediana, Linde, and the twins, Irana and Ilea.'
Tip frowned. 'What are they-?'
'Don't you remember, Tip? You invited them to stay in our room rather than bunk in the stables.'
'I did?'
'You did.'
Tipperton pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead as he surveyed the four warrior maidens lying on blankets on the floor, and Beau said, 'Look, Tip, they've offered to take us with them as they head south for Caer Pendwyr. I mean, they should go right past the Blackwood, and travel'll be a lot safer, what with us surrounded by an entire brigade of Jordians, a thousand warriors altogether, or thereabout. Besides, don't you see, the ones we'll actually be going with, well, they're all warrior maidens.'
Tip nodded, then groaned from waggling his head and held it in two hands. 'Oh, now I remember. And, Beau, you'll get no argument from me. I agree; we should go with them.' Then Tip looked across at Beau and frowned. 'But what does their being warrior maidens have to do with anything?'
'Well, bucco, the way I see it, warrior maidens are not-men.'
As Beau intoned ' 'Seek the aid of those not men' ' Tip threw up his hands and sighed.
That same day a warm wind began blowing through the pass from the south, and some said it was an omen of good, while others claimed it was the usual spring wind. Still others said 'twas Modru's eye turned elsewhere. Yet omen or not, usual or not, or a lapse of the Evil One's gaze, winter reluctantly began to loosen its grasp on the plains below Jallorby, the land slowly clearing of snow to reveal thick yellow grass waiting to green. In the warm- driven air and in spite of the mud, laughing children romped through the streets, and everywhere faces held smiles. And every day, Vanadurin scouts rode up into the col, only to come back and report that it was yet blocked by snow though there was considerable melt. A week passed, and still the wind blew, and another five days all told, and on the very next day, the tenth day of April, the wind stopped altogether. Nevertheless, the scouts returned to say the way south, though yet hampered by snow, perhaps was now passable.
And so, on the eleventh day of April, with Beau Darby riding in the war chariot driven by Dediana, spear- caster Linde at her side, and with Tipperton Thistledown riding in the chariot driven by Ilea, her twin Irana at the lances, beneath glowering skies, the brigade of Vanadurin left Jallorby behind, the townsfolk standing along the way and largely cheering, though some wept as well.
As the chariots rumbled up the rough trace and into the pass, Irana said, 'Here, Tipperton, there's no need to remain standing all the way south.' She pivoted up two padded boards hinged to the interior chariot walls, the attached sliding braces clacking into place, providing a seat on each side of the wain.
'But where will Ilea sit?' protested Tip, glancing up at the dark-haired driver.
Ilea turned and looked with blue eyes at the buccan and smiled. 'Fear not, wee one, we will all three take turns, for legs get tired of standing, while bottoms tire of sitting, especially over rough ground.'
As Irana sat down, Tip clambered up onto the other seat and grasped a rail to steady himself against the jounce of the war wagon rumbling up the uneven way. He twisted about and looked at Dediana's chariot following directly behind and saw that Beau was now seated, too, his face showing just above the rail. Beau grinned and waved, and Tip waved back then turned about once more, and up into the pass they rode, a long line of Vanadurin warriors stretching out fore and aft.
As they trundled upward, Ilea said over her shoulder, 'We are now in the Grimwalls, Tipperton, where the for-domlig maskfolk dwell. Should it come to combat, I will slow long enough for you to leap from the chariot, for Irana and I cannot fight effectively with you underfoot. Get to a place of safety. We will come for you when the battle is done.'
'You'll need take that with you, as well,' said Irana, pointing at Tip's bundle of goods: lute and pack and bedroll lashed together, bow and quiver lying atop.
Tip nodded but did not reply as up through the slot in the mountains they fared.
The higher they climbed, the colder became the chill air, and banks of unmelted snow lay to either side in the shadows of crags and cracks where the sun shone not and the warm wind of the past several days had failed to reach. Soon their breaths were blowing white, and Tip gathered his cloak around, as still they pressed onward, the chariot wheels now and again running in a layer of white or skid-' ding over ice.
Often Tip stood and held on to the rail, and either Ilea or Irana would take his place, one or the other of the twins commanding the reins even though seated, for the horses simply followed the ones ahead, needing little or no guidance. Now and again they would stop to rest the horses, either that or they would walk alongside the steeds. Both Tip and Beau found these strolls a welcome relief from the jolting of the wain, and together they would trudge through the snow and slip across ice. Occasionally they would come to wide drifts attempting to block the way, yet, with a quarter of the train before them, the horses and wains passing through ahead, by the time the buccen arrived, snow barriers were tramped down well enough that the struggle was brief if at all.
Shortly after the noontide they topped the crest of the col and started on the long descent, for as Dediana had said, glancing at the leaden sky, 'In spite of yesterweek's warm wind, in spite of Dame Fortune's goodwill, we'll not remain in the pass through the night, for cold yet grasps the land, especially at these heights, where wintry storms may come of a sudden and trap us entirely.'
'Oh my, Dediana, don't say that,' hissed Beau. 'I mean, don't ask for trouble when there is none.'
And so down they went and down, and in the chill midaf-ternoon, as if Dediana's words were prophetic, an icy wind began to blow at their backs, and dark clouds roiled above. Within but a few candlemarks, a howling blizzard came screaming across the range.
Night had long fallen by the time they had battled their way to the foothills below, the supply wagons and their escort coming through the hurling white last of all. Into a woodland they struggled, seeking the shelter of the trees, though the wall of mountains behind afforded some protection from the worst of the blow. And even though they could not see more than a few yards through the fling, Hrosmarshal Hannor set a picket about as the remainder of the warriors made camp.
The next day, though snow yet fell, on southward and down they pressed, the wagons and wains and horses struggling through high drifts. Yet the farther they went, the less the fall, the less that covered the ground. For here the warm wind of the past days had scoured the land clean, and the new-fallen snow lay shallow.
'We now come to the river, Tipperton,' said Ilea, the sun low to the horizon. 'Recall, if battle comes upon us, I will slow long enough for you to leap from the chariot. Irana and I will return when all is done.'
Tip nodded, his lute and pack and bedroll now strapped to his back, his bow in hand, his quiver at his thigh, for the Vanadurin scouts had come riding in with the news that Alvstad was destroyed. And though the scouts had seen no Foul Folk and reported the ruins looked to be weeks old, still Hrosmarshal Hannor had ordered the Vanadurin to be battle ready.
Through the light of the afternoon sun, Tip looked back up the slope at the chariot behind and saw that Beau was poised as well, and down the embankment and across the shallows they fared, Alvstad ahead, the palisade shattered, charred timbers beyond, black burn jutting up through windblown layers of white.
'Retribution, I would say,' said Tip, averting his gaze from the remains of those who had been slain, remains for the most part now covered by snow, 'for here was held the muster of Agron's army.'
'Just plain evil, if you ask me,' said Beau, his breath frosty on the air.
Tip gestured toward the charred stables. 'Well, Beau, the ponies we were counting on are all gone-'
'Probably eaten by the maggot-folk,' gritted Beau, slamming a fist into palm.
Tip nodded, then said, 'I've seen enough. Let us get back to the camp.'
