The Unnamed Blade (Book Two of The Horns of Elfland)

Chapter Nine

They reached the heatstack cave almost two hours after dark. Large flakes of snow had continued to fall, although not as thickly, and in places it had formed drifts several feet thick. The massive rocky scarp in which Sherath had seeded the stack stood up from the snow blackly, white-topped, and with fresh green unfrosted shrubs growing in thick patches from its never-frozen face.

They unloaded the beasts at the mouth of the cave and let them wander where they would. The beasts scented the spring inside the cave and went there first, drinking deeply of the warm water before rolling vigorously in the dust and going back outside to feast off the wealth of greenstuff.

Nemeth lit a fire close to the cave mouth and cooked up a thick porridgey concoction of nuts, grains and honey; Farinka sat, hugging her knees, at the far side of the entrance, gazing out across the white-blanketed plateau to the north.

"The moon's coming out," she said after while.

"It'll be very cold again tonight, then," said Nemeth. "We're in the best place for a hundred miles around."

He cast his Awareness wide as he stirred the glutinous mass inside the pot to stop it sticking and burning. "The scarp face is simply teeming with wildlife," he said. "It's a friendly place for animals to spend the winter. The mice can breed all year round, here."

"Any wolves?" asked Farinka.

"Yes; there's a permanent den, by the feel of it, about half a mile west. I expect it's where a landslip last century left a big hollow in the side. It will be well wooded by now; it's amply sheltered from the weather and constantly warm. The wolves probably take rabbits from the top."

"In this weather?"

"Yes. Even though the surface is covered with snow, the rabbits wouldn't have to burrow far down to strike reasonable warmth, and there are little dips and shallow clefts that strike far enough down into the stack to stay permanently unfrozen - there'll be grass all year in places up there. It's a virtual jungle from spring to autumn."

He ladled out a bowlful from the pot and brought it over to her. "Do you think this could do with a touch of spice?" he asked.

She tasted it gingerly - it was piping hot. "Possibly. Maybe cinnamon or nutmeg. Why not just put some spice into a bowl and let people add it themselves if they want it?"

Nemeth nodded. "Yes. Okay." He called the others over; Sherath helped himself to a heaped bowlful; he and Nemeth came and sat with their backs against the rock wall, about two yards away from Farinka.

"That zap of yours was absolutely matchless, Domina," said Sherath after a short while. "The combination was faultlessly proportioned and perfectly executed."

"And probably killed Mishaar," added Farinka quietly.

"No," said Nemeth emphatically. "Nothing you could have done, under the circumstances, could possibly have saved Mishaar's life. He'd slipped off that rock into the funnel seconds before the zap hit - I saw it happen. And the rock was not only icy, but slick with blood as well. It was almost certainly the loss of blood that made him lose his grip on the rock. He must have been unconscious - or all but - when he slipped. I doubt if he ever felt any pain other than the gashes on his hands."

"I could feel him screaming, through the Awareness," whispered Farinka.

"Fear, not pain, Domina. He told me himself, back at Dakesht, that the only person he'd ever seen who had used power to kill with had also killed himself in the process," replied Nemeth quietly. "I am absolutely certain that his fear was that you would do the same. I also heard him - and again, he stopped screaming before he slid off the rock. Before the zap hit. His last rational thought was probably relief at the sure knowledge that you had not killed yourself."