Kushiel's Dart

created such a pupil."
    "I wish you had too." I drew off one of my mittens and plucked a twig from his hair, toying with it to feel its fineness. "But in all fairness, when I first met you, I thought you were-"
    "A dried-up old stick of a Cassiline Brother," he finished, shooting me an amused glance. "I remember. I remember it very well."
    "No." I gave his hair a sharp tug and smiled at him. "That was before I met you. Once I did, I thought you were a smug, self-satisfied young prig of a Cassiline Brother."
    He laughed at that, a real laugh. "You were right. I was."
    "No, I was wrong. The man I thought you were would have given up and died of humiliation in Gunter's kennels. You kept fighting, and stayed true to yourself. And kept me alive, thus far."
    "You did that much for yourself, Phedre, and for me as well," he said soberly, prodding the fire with the tip of his sword. "I've no illusions on that score, trust me. But I swear, I'll do what's needful now to get you alive and whole to Ysandre de la Courcel. If I'm to be damned for what I've done, I'll be damned in full and not by halves."
    "I know," I murmured. I'd seen his eyes when he killed the White Brethren. We sat in silence together, until I broke it. "We should eat."
    "Eat, and sleep. We need all the strength we can muster." Heaving himself to his feet, he sheathed his sword and fetched our pottage from the fire. We had but one spoon between us, and took turns with it, filling our bellies with warm, albeit tasteless, food. When it was gone, Joscelin scraped the bowl clean and filled it with snow to melt, while I sat part-frozen, part-warm and drowsy with exhaustion, huddled in my cloak.
    We laid down then together on the pine-bed, piling every spare bit of hide and wool upon us. I lay curled against Joscelin, feeling the warmth of his body seep into my limbs. "Sleep," he whispered against my hair. "They'll not find us tonight. Sleep." After a while, I did.

FIFTY-TWO
    I awoke in the morning alone, stiff and cold.
    If I had thought the voyage from Gunter's steading to Selig's was hard, it was nothing to this. Whether I had known it or not, I endured that journey as a cherished and pampered member of the tribe. I did not think, then, on the fact that I'd no need to saddle my own horse, to cook my own meals, and make do for myself in every way possible.
    Now, I needs must shift for myself, for speed was of the essence, and Joscelin-no matter how efficient-was but one man, and not bred to the Skaldi wilderness, where the cold cuts deeper and the snow drifts higher than in the mountains of Siovale.
    We came to a new language together on that deadly journey, one of quick gestures, nods and grimaces. I learned things I had never known, nor ever thought it would be needful to know, such as the most efficient way to pack a horse and the best way to pick a trail through dense growth where twining branches hidden beneath the snow formed traps to entangle horses and humans alike.
    I learned to wrap my head in wool as if in a burnouse, saving precious heat, draping a length across my face to protect it from the wind. I learned to crack the ice from my garments and press onward without pausing. I learned to dig ice out of my pony's hooves, when the tender pad inside cracked and bled. I learned to carry a dagger-Trygve's dagger, that Joscelin had kept-at my waist and to use it for simple chores.
    These things I learned, and quickly, for we travelled as fast as we dared, pushing ourselves and our horses close to the point of foundering. Our flesh grew numb, and we had to check our extremities for signs of the dead white flesh that betokened frostbite. On the second night, a pack of wolves circled round while we made camp, close enough that we caught glimpses of them through the trees. Joscelin worked frantically to build the fire and raced around the edges of the camp shouting when it was lit, brandishing a torch. They withdrew, then, into the forest, but we caught sight of their eyes reflecting fire in the night.
    Still, we saw no one on the second day, nor on the next. That was the third day, when we lost a precious hour in a near disaster. It befell us atop a snowy ridge, where we dismounted and paused to get our bearings. Shading my eyes against the snow glare, I pointed to the distant north, where a thin trail of smoke threaded into the blue sky behind a twin-forked mountain peak.
    "Raskogr's steading," I said, my voice muffled through the wool shroud across my face.