Sianim 01 - Masques

in and out to attract their attention. The trail that we took up here is virtually a stream from the melting snow, so in a little while there will be no sign that we came this way. With luck, we’ll have that time. The cold makes them slower than usual. That’s the reason Sheen and I beat them here.”
    “I’ll see that everyone stays inside.” Myr started to go—someone was calling his name—then turned around. “Aralorn?”
    She pulled off Sheen’s bridle and vainly patted her clothing in search of something she could use to dry him off. But he was dryer than her clothing. “Yes?”
    “I’ll send a couple of the older children in with toweling to dry your horse. You change your clothes, before you catch lung fever. My packs are marked over against the far wall; find something in them.”
    It made sense. “Thanks.”
    She made her way to his packs, unmistakable because of the embroidered dragon that glared at her as she riffled through his belongings. A true shapeshifter could probably alter the clothes that she was wearing, but Aralorn had no idea how to go about it. She pulled out a pair of plain trousers and a tunic of a dark hue and, best of all, a pair of dry cotton stockings. With clothes in hand she hunted down an unoccupied cranny and exchanged the wet clothes for the dry ones.
    The oil coating on the boots worked better in snow than in rivers. The water had run in from the top and been prevented from leaving by the oil on the outside so that they were marshy inside. Aralorn dried them out as best she could and pulled them on over her newly acquired socks. She had hoped for better results.
    She surveyed herself wryly when she was done. Myr was not tall—for a man—which left him only a head or so taller than she. He was, however, built like a stone wall.
    Well, she thought, tugging at the front of the tunic, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about its being too tight.
    The camp was starting to look organized again. Aralorn went back to check and found Sheen had been dried. He stood quietly with head lowered and one hind foot cocked up—a sure sign that he was as tired as she was.
    Stanis found her there, her head resting against the horse’s neck, more asleep than awake.
    “Aralorn, I think Astrid went back to camp.”
    It was enough to wake her up. “What?”
    “I can’t find her anywhere, an’ neither can Tobin, we searched an’ searched. She was crying all of the way up here because she left the doll her mother made her at camp. We tried to tell her that it would be all right, everyone knows that Uriah don’t eat dolls, just people. But I haven’t seen her since you came in, and neither has anyone else.”
    “How many people have you told this to?” She fitted her bridle to the fastest of the camp horses. Sheen was too tired to run.
    “Lots of people know I’m looking for her, but you’re the only one I told what I thought happened to her. I tried to tell Myr, but Haris was talking to him and lots of other people.”
    “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to sneak out of here and go look for her. I don’t want you to tell anyone that I’ve gone.” There was no use sending out more than one person. She was more than enough to bring back one little girl if the Uriah hadn’t found her yet. If they had made it to camp, then there was no sense in sending more people to die. “Keep looking for her here. She was pretty excited about the man who helped her find her way out of the caves. She may have just wandered deeper into the cave to see if she could find him. Wait until Myr isn’t busy, then tell him where I’ve gone. That should take long enough that I’ll either be back or I’m not coming back. Tell him that I said not to send anyone else after me. There aren’t enough people to spare. I’m just going to sneak down to our camp and see if I can spot her. If I don’t see her, I’ll ride right back up.”
    She paused only long enough to get her sword. As she belted it on, the thought occurred to her that if she were going to have to keep using it against Uriah, it would behoove her to get more proficient at using the plaguing thing.
    It wasn’t easy, with her limited magical powers, to sneak through a cave filled with magic-users, albeit weak ones. The gelding, sulky at leaving the other horses munching dinner, didn’t make matters any easier. She almost left him behind, but although he made it a little bit more difficult to escape undetected, he