stood in the doorway. She kissed him good-bye and closed the door as Egil walked over to them.
“Do you have a mount?” Caim asked.
“No,” Egil replied. “But I'll keep up.”
He led them through the dim streets past the outlying buildings and onto a wide, snow-packed road. Once they were beyond the town, Caim wanted to dig his heels into his mount's sides and take off, but he kept it to a steady walking pace. A wind blew down from the north, searing the insides of his nose and mouth.
They rode for several candlemarks, and the sky darkened from slate gray to charcoal. The wastes spread before them, a magnificent desolation bereft of even an occasional hill or wood to break up the monotony. The others couldn't see much beyond the light of the two lanterns they carried, but they weren't missing anything. They traveled on what passed for a road, an ice-encrusted trail broad enough for a pair of riders abreast. Egil walked at the head of the small company with one of the lanterns. Good to his word, he managed to keep up. In fact, from time to time he would range ahead of them. While Caim rode, fighting the urge to yawn, he studied their guide. Egil's coat was patched together from a variety of animal skins, the hood flapping on his back. He also had stiff hide gauntlets that came up nearly to his elbows and furry pants tucked into his boots. His only gear was his belt knife and the rucksack, yet he moved with the practiced ease of someone at home in his environment.
Caim was rubbing his gloves to work some warmth into his extremities when an amazing thing happened. Crimson pinpricks appeared in the sky. At first it was just a handful peeking through the inky veil of the night sky, but then more appeared until they covered the firmament like an array of twinkling rubies.
“Saronna's ivory teats!” Dray swore.
The others stopped and admired the view. Something bothered Caim about them, but he couldn't say what.
Then Aemon said, “They're all wrong.”
The familiar constellations were gone. This time of year the Sickle should have been right over their heads, but that space was empty save for a few red stars in a different pattern. Caim saw something that sort of resembled the Hind, but it was much too far north and its brightest stars were in the wrong position. A superstitious dread crept into his chest.
“How can the stars be wrong?” Malig asked. “By the Dark, Caim. Where in the seven hells did you bring us?”
Caim shook his head.
“How much longer do you want to keep going tonight?” Egil asked, coming back to meet them.
Caim looked to the horses. “I suppose this is far enough. I don't figure we'll find much shelter out here.”
“Not much,” Egil said. “There's a few places where hunters hole up when the weather gets bad, but most of them are off the road.”
“What cities lay north of here?”
Egil shook his head. “Aren't any cities on the wastes. A few villages, but you can go days out here without seeing another person.”
That didn't make sense. Caim remembered his last moments with Sybelle in her sanctum. As her life bled out on the floor, his aunt had mentioned a name. Erebus. He hadn't learned anything more in the months since to explain what she'd meant. Where was this Erebus? He wanted to come right out and ask, but held back.
It started to snow as they bedded down. While their mounts huddled under tarps, the men slept on the ground huddled around a fire that did little to ward off the bitter cold. Caim listened to the soft fall of flakes on the snow. When the others had closed their eyes and drifted off, he held out his arm. The shoulder was stiff where he'd been wounded. Caim went to the place in his mind where his power resided and called for a shadow to aid in his healing. Moments passed without an appearance, but he could sense them beyond the firelight, watching him with invisible eyes. Sweat formed on his upper lip.
Finally, he dropped his arm and gave up. Maybe the shadows were acting strange because of this place. He hadn't felt like himself since crossing the mountains. Sighing, Caim closed his eyes. He had just drifted into the first, light throes of sleep when a gentle touch caressed his temple.
“You awake, darling?” Kit asked.
He opened his eyes to find her lying on his chest, her chin propped in one hand as her other hand teased his upper lip. In the dim firelight, he could almost believe she was real. It made his blood quicken. She was more than beautiful. He knew every inch of her face. He could close his eyes and see the exact shade of her violet eyes.
“Let's sneak away,” she said.
“You're crazy,” he whispered. “It's freezing.”
“I'll keep you warm.”
“You're not-”
She levitated up a few inches and frowned. “Not what?”
Caim stifled a groan. This was the last thing he wanted right now, an argument with a spirit in the middle of the night after a long day, and with a longer day ahead of him tomorrow. “I'm just tired, Kit. Let me sleep and we'll talk tomorrow.”
She sunk back to press against him, but the frown didn't move. “There's a place up ahead if you stay on this path.”
“What kind of place?” He lowered his voice as Aemon rolled over in his sleep. “A town?”
“Not quite. But there's people.”
“Is it safe?”
She shrugged. “I was thinking we could stay the night.” Her fingers walked up his chest, making goose bumps on his flesh. “Get a room to ourselves.”
Caim closed his eyes. “All right. If you let me sleep, we'll do that.”
“Really?” Her lips made buzzing tingles on his cheek. “Sleep tight, love. I'll keep watch.”
He drifted back into the pull of slumber with the snow falling around him, into a series of interesting dreams.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Josey leaned back in the wobbly camp chair as she shoved the papers away. Another dispatch had arrived from the capital this morning.
It was gratifying to know she'd left the empire in such diligent hands, but the lord regent evidently failed to realize she didn't need to know every aspect of the court's activities while she was away. She'd left him in charge for a reason, but from reading his letters it was apparent that he felt the need to justify every decision.
The door flap moved aside, and Iola entered carrying a basket of laundry. Josey smiled, glad for a distraction, however brief. When she got up to help, Iola shook her head. “Please, milady. You're busy. Let me do this.”
Josey went over and picked up a kirtle, stiff from drying in the cold air. “Nonsense. I need a break. My eyes are about to fall out of my head.”
The girl's hands were quick and deft as she folded each article with precision and tucked it away in the large trunks. “Has there been any word about when we'll be moving again?”
Josey shook her head. She'd gone to see the fallen bridge the previous day. What had once been an impressive wooden span over twenty ells long was now reduced to a few broken pilings sticking up from the river's icy waters. There was no sign of how it had happened, but whatever the cause, the bridge's collapse had put her journey on hold.
“You know,” Iola said. “I've heard there is a village not far from here. We could go if you like. Maybe we'll find something more edible than gruel.”
“I like that idea. I'll call for Captain Drathan.”
“I can do it, milady.”
Josey regarded the girl. “Oh?”
She had never seen Iola blush before, but bright spots of red appeared on the girl's cheeks. It was quite
