The Messenger

boat heeled through a sharp turn.

Seeing one of the women, frantically splashing in the water, the elf steered beside her. Even without his orders the other Arktos had snatched up a rope. “Catch this, Mergat!” shouted one.

As Cutter surged past they draped the line through the water, and the swimmer somehow managed to wrap it around her arms. The boat’s momentum pulled her through the water as her comrades strained to pull her aboard.

“Come about again!” Kerrick shouted, knowing that another woman had fallen into the sea as well. Once again he and Tildey changed course, but when he scanned the surging sea he saw nothing except water.

Mergat was stretched out on deck, coughing and wretching and being tended by one of her comrades. The rest of the women and Kerrick scanned the sea. The sailor knew that no one could survive more than five or ten minutes in that frigid water, but even so he searched for an hour until the tragedy was undeniable. Once more Kerrick set a course for the sheltered cove and its steamy cave.

It was a grim and shaken party that at last escaped the storm’s fury. Guided through the night by the roaring fire, he finally debarked his passengers on the beach.

“We lost Kestra,” he told the old shaman woman, his eyes cast downward.

“Go!” she said angrily. “Don’t waste any more time talking.”

Once more he and Tildey made the long, dark crossing. This time he returned to Tall Cedar Bay in the pale gray dawn, loading most of the rest of the tribe. He only left Moreen, together with the last dozen of her women- warriors. When he told her about Kestra, she was even angrier than Dinekki and refused to believe that it wasn’t his fault.

Soon he would be rich, he consoled himself. Moreen and most of her tribe would be safe. Again he wondered: where was Coraltop Netfisher?

“The Highlanders!” Little Mouse blurted excitedly. “And it looks like they brought their king!”

“They can’t be here already. It’s too soon!” Moreen declared. She leaped to her feet and cast a glance across the bay. The waters, white-capped and restless in the dawn, showed no sign of the triangular sail that would mark the third return of the elven sailor. Her gamble was perilously close to failure.

“Where are they?” she asked the youth, who was still catching his breath from the long run from his watchpost to the beach.

“Up on the ridge, south of the valley,” he replied. “Some of their warriors came down to the trees, but they’re a mile inland of here. It didn’t look like any of them were coming toward the shore, at least not yet.”

The chiefwoman looked around. In addition to Mouse and herself, there were ten women waiting here in the clearing. Her eyes locked upon Hilgrid’s. “When the boat comes back, get everyone aboard. Then wait for dark. If I’m not back by then, sail without me.”

“But-” The woman bit back her words when she saw the expression in Moreen’s eyes. “All right.”

Mouse led the chiefwoman to the edge of the forest, and she found herself looking up at the same rounded hill where she, Tildey, and Bruni had first discovered Tall Cedar Bay. Now a sparse fog had drifted in, obscuring the upper heights from view. If and when the elf returned, the Highlanders would have difficulty observing his arrival.

“Some of them went into the woods over there,” the boy said, pointing to the left. “Most were still up on the hill when I came to get you.”

“You did the right thing,” Moreen said. “Now, I want you to get back to Hilgrid and the rest. When the sailboat comes back, you climb aboard too.”

“Shouldn’t I stay here-in case you need me?”

“No!” She made her sternest face. “Do what I told you!”

“All right.” Crestfallen, the lad made his way back into the forest. Moreen watched until he was out of sight, then started climbing the long hill. Wind lashed at her skin, and the snow stung. She knew that the Sturmfrost could not be many days away.

By the time she was halfway up the hill, she could spot a crowd of Highlanders watching her approach. She saw the wolf cloak of Lars Redbeard, then the golden chains and white bearskin that could only mean Strongwind Whalebone himself was there.

The king of the Highlanders stood, arms folded across his broad chest, watching her approach with a grim scowl. By the time she crested the rise she saw that he had more than a hundred men here, that they had established a camp with tents, pickets, and a large bonfire.

Deciding she had best tread carefully, Moreen offered her most winning smile as she advanced to the royal party. “Strongwind Whalebone, king of the Highlanders, it is good that you have come and a pleasure to see you again.”

“A pleasure you seemed anxious to postpone,” he snorted, though his scowl softened in the glow of her smile. “Or did my adviser Redbeard lie to me when he sent word that I should meet you in the valley, which happens to be a day’s march south of here?”

“I am sorry about that misunderstanding,” she replied. “No, Lars Redbeard spoke the truth. It was only the discovery of these trees that brought my people northward, so that they could camp in comfort. I expected to see you here, though not for another day or two.”

The king snorted. “As you can see, my warriors are capable of a very fast march. We Highlanders have been known to cover twenty miles a day, though the ground be snowed with drifts as high as our heads!”

“Impressive,” Moreen noted. “I regret that I neglected to inform your adviser of our hasty change in plans.”

“Regrettable, indeed. So you tell me that your tribe is down there?” The king looked across the valley. The trees at the bottom of the slope were visible, though the full extent of the grove was lost in the murky fog.

“Yes, we needed to find some firewood and shelter from the wind for our elders.”

“They will have excellent shelter in Guilderglow,” Strongwind declared. “You and your tribe will come with me, now. We must return to the city before the Sturmfrost.”

“Yes, of course,” Moreen said, thinking fast. “I see that you have made yourself comfortable here. Perhaps you will permit me to go and bring them back.”

She turned, ready to start back down the hill, when he stopped her with a word.

“No! I do not trust you. You have spurned me once, lied to me once. I would be a fool to let you go now.”

Moreen’s eyes widened, an image-she hoped-of bemused innocence. “Where would I go? Undoubtedly you can see that the far side of the valley is a wall of cliff. How would I get away? Would I swim to join the walrus- men?”

“Nonetheless I have no desire to wander around in those woods looking for you,” growled the king. “No, my men and I will accompany you to your tribe.”

She shrugged casually, as if his decision made no difference to her. All the while her mind was racing, trying to evaluate risks, to form a plan. Fortunately, it took more than an hour for the Highlanders to break their camp, and that was enough time, she gambled, for Kerrick to have returned with Cutter. The scheme she conceived was utterly desperate but might, with luck, work.

With the chiefwoman in the lead, the humans made their way down the hill and into the woods. Moreen led them, however, not directly toward the beach, but into the center of the grove, where they came to the deep ravine that divided the forest in two.

“This way,” she said, scrambling down the steep slope, stepping across the stones in the shallow streambed. Strongwind Whalebone might have been her shadow, so closely did he hover by her side.

They followed her along the gully floor. “Good forest, here,” Strongwind Whalebone said conversationally. “You found it because you saw it on my map?”

“Oh, yes-of course,” Moreen replied, remembering the patches of green tiles-flint or jade-on the mosaic. Unfortunately, she had neglected to ask what they signified, but now she knew.

They made their way to the place where she had watched the elf emerge from the ravine on his hunting expedition. As she had hoped, the knobby pine trunk was still there, leaning against the cliff, and she started to climb up to the top.

“Wait,” declared the king, putting a strong hand on her leg as she hoisted herself higher. “One of my men will