Rotapan plastered himself to the rock wall. His knees knocked together and his breath came in gasps. Unbidden, stories of travelers lost on this peak, checking their maps and freezing open-eyed and standing, came racing to his mind. The coin, in his hand for the last few feet, was losing its heat even faster, and felt as though it were stuck to his palm like a searing brand.
The guards shuffled through the heavy snow and stopped a few feet away from him. 'We hear you. Show yourself, slave. We have warned you about leaving the colony without our escort,' said one of them, his eyes strangely vacant, his breath making no mist in the frigid air.
Rotapan could not move. But from the other side of the path came a faint sound. The Neffian crouched behind a snowbank, holding a whimpering wolf pup inside his furs. Rotapan breathed a slow sigh of relief when he realized he was not the guards' objective. At the sound of the pup's cry, they moved in on the Neffian, affording Rotapan a strange revelation. The guards' skin was as white as their stiff robes, and when he looked directly upon their faces, he could almost see the outline of everything behind them. They looked as though they were made of the same ice that covered the entire top of the mountain. They carried swords made of brilliant crystal and their words hung in the air like the sound of steel on steel.
As they came forward, the Neffian released the pup and silently bade him to stay, then broke from his cover and shot past them as they clashed their swords over his head. The slave ran in through the gates, then took to the even steeper path toward the main entrance of the slave colony, the guards following stiffly, but with amazing speed. Rotapan shrugged and slipped through the silvery gates into the vacant courtyard.
The mist had thinned and the light from the moons and the three sisters sparkled over hundreds of intricate ice sculptures, making the courtyard seem alive with strange animals, flowers, and trees. The half-ore stood transfixed, forgetting the cold, forgetting the guards and the coin in his hand, forgetting his mission and Riolla.
For there in the midst of the cavorting ice sculptures, occupying a massive block of ice, complete with carved waves and the surge of the cauldron, reared the shining, glossy shape of a sea dragon.
'Chelydrus!' breathed Rotapan.
'Amazing, isn't it, Wyrvil? These were carved when her people ruled most of the continent, before the great Thaw. Some say all of them really roamed the world at that time.' Saelin's voice came drifting past Rotapan's ear.
'Bow your knee to the god of the waters!' Rotapan snapped, irritated that anyone else would be sharing his audience with Chelydrus. 'And just where were you when I was dragged and bloodied and mauled by those wolves?'
Saelin gestured mockingly at the ice sculpture. 'Right behind you. Conserving my strength. You didn't seem to need any help. Let's go. The Rimscalla guards won't be long with that slave. I'd rather not have to wait on them.'
Before Rotapan could move, Saelin threw a blindfold over his head and jerked the knot tight, setting his dagger's edge at the half-ore's scrawny throat.
'Nobody sees the way in, Wyrvil.'
And you won't see the way out, either, he chortled to himself, pointing Rotapan in the direction of Drufalden's castle.
17
Riolla held the spyglass to her eye and tried to find Rotapan and Saelin through the mountain mists. For some time, she had been able to follow them up the craggy sides of Drufalden's stronghold, but now she had lost them.
'I don't like this one bit.'
She collapsed the glass into its casing and ate another banana. It was getting a bit lonely in the warm spring's bower. Riolla shifted her deep blue eyes over the tropical foliage, checking for movement or intruders. It had not been the best of ideas to stay there alone, but she could not risk putting herself on Drufalden's home soil without more protection.
The steady dripping of the condensed steam from the plants had begun to annoy her. Her hair drooped and her clothes were soaked through. She so hated wet places; full of noxious mold and mildew. She stirred the little fire at her feet, trying to get dry, but the heat was making her sleepy. The steamy spring gurgled invitingly a few feet from the fire. If she were already wet, she might as well enjoy it and stay awake at the same time. Riolla looked around one more time and then began to undress.
Across the spring, Og grabbed the trunk of a banana tree to keep from breaking his neck as he tumbled gracelessly out of nothingness and into what appeared to be paradise. His song had taken him away from Womba, but he had no idea where it had dropped him. As he had held the stones in his hand and sung an unmaking spell, the last thing he remembered thinking about was… Riolla.
And to his astonishment and incredible delight, there she was, lounging in the midst of the warm spring with an orchid in her hair. Og blinked, thinking he dreamed. An orchid. Just like the one he had conjured for her the day he had proposed. Og's heart broke all over again as he looked through the thick tropical undergrowth. His nose poked into another hand of bananas for camouflage.
Riolla took her time in the misty waters, her head floating just above the bubbling surface. But when she rose to leave the spring, Og noticed for the first time that she was very, very naked. Enraptured, he shut his eyes, trying to orient himself, then looked up to try to find the three sisters. The swirling mist obscured the sky for the most part, but Og could make out the familiar constellation now and then when the firmament cleared for a brief moment. Everything looked pretty much the same as it did at the selkies' lodge, except that he knew he had moved a little west, lliis had to be the warm spring at the base of Drufalden's mountain.
Placing the two gemstones in his bag, Og began to plan quickly. Womba would surely be coming after him now that she knew he wasn't at the lodge, and he could return to the selkies' river any time before daybreak, when Cheyne had said they were leaving for the forest. But first, he wanted to get just a little closer. Just to be with her again. Just one last look, while she didn't know he was looking, while they were alone together.
He shoved his nose back into the bananas just as Riolla slipped back into her robes, an appealing pink flush upon her white skin. Og's sudden motion made the tree sway enough to attract her glance, and while she stopped to listen for a moment, he steadied the tree, not risking even a breath. But it was too late. Riolla, having seen the tree's hand of ripe bananas, smiled greedily and moved through the wild growth with glee, her eyes fastened on the heavy, golden bunch.
Og could do nothing but await the inevitable. Riolla yanked at the biggest banana on the stalk, and Og came tumbling out of his hiding place, holding his battered nose.
Riolla only barely contained her shriek. She did not at all contain her wrath. 'You! Where did you come from? Have you been watching me, you ugly little raqa-fogged peeper? Saelin!' she called, wanting Og to believe he was moments from losing his head.
He picked himself up from the slick, vine-covered ground and drew himself to his full height, faced Riolla, and looked deeply into her furious eyes. He had waited years to be able to speak to her and he knew exactly what he was going to say.
'I… I love you, Riolla,' he croaked, his voice cracking miserably.
She wrinkled her nose in distaste and gingerly grabbed him by the collar, marching him through the lush ferns and club mosses over to the fire, where she tied him to a thick-trunked rubber tree with vines, stirred the fire up angrily, and sat down to decide just how she could hold the old stickaburr for ransom.
'Saelin, I'm waiting!' Riolla's sharp voice cut through the mist several yards away from the warm spring's thick cover.
When no one appeared or answered her, she strained her ears again, keeping a dagger in Og's ribs to assure his silence as well. Several more minutes passed without another sound from the mountainside. Og waited peacefully, never offering any attempt at escape. After all, he was exactly where he had dreamed of being since Riolla had left him. The gag was tasting a little nasty, though, and his nose hurt horribly. Og finally turned his face away from Riolla long enough to rub his head against the rough tree bark to scratch a mosquito bite.
