Kitiara snorted. "Somehow I doubt I'll have the opportunity. The mage doesn't seem to like me."
"Ah, but mage Janusz is not running this campaign. It is the Valdane you must impress. Perhaps he will be forgiving."
Indeed, Kitiara was tempted. The Valdane certainly had might on his side. But the mage would never allow her to strike a separate deal with the Valdane. She shrugged her shoulders, and Toj didn't pursue the subject.
They returned through the camp. Lida and Janusz were waiting silently when Toj escorted her up to the sledge. Hostility was apparent between the mages, and they avoided even glancing at each other. Res-Lacua galloped up, belching and smelling of fish.
Wordlessly Kitiara and Lida entered the sledge, and this time Janusz joined them. The dire wolves leaped against the traces, and they left the camp behind.
"An impressive outpost, eh, Captain?" Janusz said at last.
"Adequate," Kitiara said. "It needs an able commander to whip the troops into shape, but it has potential—in the right hands." Lida cast her an amazed glance.
The mage threw his head back and laughed. "Ah, Kitiara, you have nerve. I'll grant you that."
The ettin ran behind the wolf-drawn sledge. Kitiara saw, in the shadows at the bottom of the sledge, the shard of shale that had been teleported with her from Darken Wood. She had dropped it earlier. Now she edged toward it, covering it with her booted foot.
Snow began to fall, turning quickly to sleet.
The ettin gloried in the feel of the sleet against his nearly bare body. Lida and Kitiara pulled their coats around them against the relentless wind.
"At least he stinks less in this cold," Kitiara muttered. Lida barely smiled.
They appeared to be climbing. Kitiara soon realized they were ascending another lip of the glacier.
The wind was fiercer here. Lida pulled the hood of her robe tighter around her head. Kitiara caught snatches of the ettin's humming.
The wolves skimmed over the deepening snow. Lida seemed to lapse into a reverie. Falling asleep, she awakened with a scream when she tumbled backward off the sledge. Kitiara dove off after her and hauled the lady mage to her feet, holding off the wolves with curses. The display amused the ettin and Janusz, but more important, all the commotion distracted them. When Lida was rescued, the piece of sharp slate was safe in the pocket of Kitiara's parka, and the swords-woman was certain neither foe knew of it. It wasn't much, but it might come in handy.
The trek continued. Silence overtook them all, unbroken by anything save the wolves' panting and the squeaking of the snow as it compacted beneath the sledge. The ettin had stopped humming.
Eventually the snow and sleet slacked off, and the grayness gave way to some of the brightest sunshine Kitiara had ever seen. The sun glared painfully off the whiteness, bringing tears to her eyes. The glare didn't seem to bother the ettin. Kitiara and Lida pulled the hoods of their fur coats forward, narrowing their eyes to slits, and restricted their gaze. It was at that point that Kitiara realized the conveyance had stopped.
"Get out," Janusz ordered.
"Here?" Kitiara lifted her head. For a moment, she saw nothing but snow. Then her teary eyes adjusted, and she saw a gash of gray-blue before her. She and Lida climbed out of the sledge, stretching to ease their stiffness.
Beyond the shadows, the curve of the glacier was steeper than anything they'd seen so far.
"Castle," said the ettin.
Kitiara and Lida looked around them and then at each other in wonderment. There was no habitation in sight, and certainly no castle.
"Magic?" Kitiara whispered. "Is it invisible?"
Lida looked around, then shook her head. "I see no sign of magic."
The ettin pointed to the promontory up ahead.
"Perhaps we'll be teleported again," Kitiara suggested. Her thoughts were occupied as she moved forward. Suddenly strong hands slammed into the small of her back. She pitched into the blue grayness. Into the snow shadow.
Into . . . nothing.
Kitiara heard Lida shout and saw the lady mage drop into the void with her. As Kitiara spun and fell, thrashing, she knew her mistake. She'd been pushed into a snow-filled chasm in the glacier, invisible in the glare of the setting sun. She caught swirling glimpses of sky, of smooth wall, of a distant V at the bottom, rushing toward her with terrifying speed. Twisting, she saw the Valdane's mage near her, floating down like a feather. Why would he kill her before he knew where the ice jewels were? It defied logic.
The swordswoman saw the jagged ice at the chasm's bottom. There was nothing Kitiara could do. The surface had shrunk to a dot of light far overhead. She heard Lida screaming again. Kitiara laced together a string of obscenities. At least the gods would see that Kitiara Uth Matar, unlike the lady mage, would not leave life mewling like a kitten.
The thought of her unborn child broke into her oaths. Kitiara would die without bearing this infant. Not, she assured herself, that she would have chosen to give birth anyway. There were certain mages who could be paid to take care of inconveniences like that.
Still . . .
She forced her thoughts away.
Would the baby have had her black curls? Caven's ebony eyes? Or Tanis's pointed ears and tilted hazel stare? Would it have inherited the half-elf's irritating, judgmental, always-do-the-right-thing attitude?
Was that another chasm opening below, within the glacial chasm through which she hurtled?
Kitiara would have been braver than her mother had been in the throes of childbirth, she knew.
Believing that death was near, Kitiara comforted herself with the knowledge that she would not have whimpered during the birth pains. She would have astounded the midwife with her bravery. Not, Kit reminded herself again, that she would have had the baby. Or, she amended, if she had given birth, certainly she wouldn't
