White Road

of seeing her ancient capital made his heart beat faster, even if the place was nothing but a ruin. But it wasn’t only that. Riding along with his friends, on their way to newplaces and new dangers—he lived for this. All those desultory months knocking around Rhíminee, he’d longed for this kind of freedom. Of course all he’d gotten was a stint in slavery, but at least they’d gotten out of the house.
    It took a day and a half of uneventful riding to reach the foothills where Tamír’s Road began, and it was a distinct relief not to have to keep Sebrahn hidden anymore. Thanks to Thero’s reinforced magic, he looked even more like a skinny little boy—or girl, for that matter, with all that hair. In his weaker moments Alec could almost imagine taking him back to Wheel Street or the Stag and Otter, thinking how they might explain the sudden appearance of a child. But then Sebrahn would look up at him with those empty silver eyes and the daydream ended in thoughts of Queen Phoria and what she would do to obtain such a weapon as this.
    Following a faint trail, they rode up through an ancient forest of towering, snow-covered fir trees. The way grew steeper and the forest more dense as the day went on, but Thero led the way without hesitation.
    “Here it is,” he said at last.
    This part of the forest looked pretty much like what they’d been riding through all afternoon, until Thero pointed out the faint carving of a handprint on one of the trees. Alec could tell it had been made a long time ago by the way the bark had grown in around the edges, obscuring the thumb. He brushed his fingers across the mark, then pressed his hand to it. It was made by a smaller hand than his.
    “Is that an Orëska mark?” he asked.
    “No. It’s something to do with those hill folk,” Thero told him. “Nysander said that they lived down here, before we Skalans came.”
    “And took their lands,” Seregil added.
    “Unfortunately, yes. These marks lead to the head of the trail.”
    The handprint carvings, few and far between, led to the bank of a small, rushing river, and then upstream into themountains. The snow was old here, icy and dirty. Spring was not far off.
    “This is the start of it,” Thero told them. “Just follow the stream to the trail. It goes between some cliffs for a while, so there’s no missing it.”
    “Then I guess it’s time we say our farewells,” Seregil said.
    “All right, then. But let me cast another wizard eye for you, to look for trouble ahead.” Closing his eyes, Thero murmured the spell and sat very still for a moment. “There are people up in the hills, but they live there and they’re well back from the trail. When Magyana and I passed through, we never saw any.”
    “Thank you.” Seregil clasped hands with him. “For all you’ve done for us.”
    “Don’t make it sound so final! Just be sure to bring that book to me. I’ll keep it safe and secret.”
    “A Guardian,” said Alec.
    “I suppose so. Good luck to you all. Luck in the shadows.”
    “And in the Light, my friend,” Seregil returned.
    Alec missed Thero immediately, but there was an added sense of urgency with his departure that he couldn’t quite explain, as if the parting marked the passing of some boundary.
    The way grew narrower as they went on, threading between steep rock faces that barely left enough room along the ice-edged riverbank to pass. In places they were forced to ford through uncertain waters, and all the while the sun was sinking behind the trees. There was fresh snow here, but it was not deep. It leveled out to a windswept span of rock and dead grass. There were a few conies nibbling there and Alec took two with his bow, shooting from the saddle.
    Stars were showing overhead when they reached a little pocket valley between steep, snow-clad peaks.
    “I’ve had enough, and so have the horses,” said Micum, stroking his mount’s neck. “This is as good a place as any.”
    There was no sign of habitation, so they made camp in a copse of young firs. Dead grass and weeds stuck up through the snow, and they left the horses to forage while they scraped out a fire pit. There was plenty of wood to roast therabbits, and they’d sleep warm that night, bundled close together around the fire.
    Alec was just about to settle down for the night when Sebrahn suddenly jumped to his feet and ran across the clearing, pointing up at something. Micum and Seregil had already drawn their swords, but Alec saw