White Road

Alec, too.”
    Ilar’s demeanor changed in the blink of an eye, as it always did when Seregil was mentioned. Fear was replaced by hope, and perhaps a bit of greed.
    That was a reassuring sign, thought Ulan. Sore joints aside, living long had its advantages. Most people were so transparent, it was easy to read their motives. As long as he could dangle that hope in front of Ilar, the man would do whatever he asked.
    Alone in his room that night, Ilar could not sleep. They
would
find Seregil. He
would
see him again! And with hope came desire. This wasn’t the first time he’d imagined capturing and enslaving him, as he had before, possessing him at last. He dreamed of it so often, but each one ended in disappointment, with Seregil always just beyond his reach. In those dreams he chased futilely after him, calling out, trying to convince him … But of what he wasn’t sure. His regret? His aching compulsion to see him, touch him again? Sometimes he was overwhelmed by a simple, sincere desire to befriend him—honestly this time.
    Awake, he dared not hope.

CHAPTER 21
Noises in the Night
    N O ONE spoke of the feeling of being watched they’d all had since yesterday. They hadn’t had any visitors last night, but Alec could swear he’d caught sight of someone on the high ground to their left, just after they’d set out. There was still no sign of habitation, but the feeling persisted.
    The weather was fair here, but dark clouds and mist hung heavy over the pass they were approaching, promising icy footing.
    “We could wait for it to clear,” Seregil suggested.
    Micum studied the sky. “Let’s see how far we can get. I’ll be happier once we’re on the other side.”
    “Wait. Look at this,” Alec said, holding up a lock of Sebrahn’s hair. The color was fading from it in streaks again, leaving it a mix of dirty grey and silver. “It’s happening again, and sooner this time.”
    Seregil leaned over and lifted the rhekaro’s hair away from his neck. “There’s white showing through here, too. Damn!”
    “What do we do now?” asked Micum. “We could contact Thero with one of those message sticks Magyana gave you.”
    “To what end?” asked Seregil. “It would take him days to get here, if he could get through at all. It was a long shot at best.”
    “What are we going to do?” asked Alec.
    “What we were going to do before Thero stuck his nose in. Think of some plausible explanation and keep going.”
    The Ebrados rode hard, trying to make up for lost time, pushing their horses and themselves to close the distance tothe ones they sought. Once they were on the mountain trail, it was harder going, but easy enough to follow, and there hadn’t been any discernible side paths. Wherever this trail led, it appeared there was only one way to get there. Rieser’s scouts brought back word that there was no sign of anyone living up here, though they had found the ruins of a small village not far from the trail. Even in the small valleys, they saw no houses, flocks, or fields.
    The occasional sign of a hoofprint with the crooked nail assured him that they were closing on their prey.
    The second night in the pass Nowen found where the others had camped for the night. The marks of footprints and bedrolls were clear enough to read in the snow. The ashes in the blackened fire pit were only a day or two old.
    Casting around, Rieser found the area they’d used as a toilet, and another spot where they’d thrown out the skin and guts of a few rabbits.
    “The half-breed and his bow are keeping them fed, eh?” asked Rane, squatting down to count the skulls. “At least he’s good for something else than breeding tayan’gil.”
    “And maybe something else, besides,” Taegil said with a snicker. “I saw where they spread their bedrolls. One slept alone and two slept together. And come look at this.” He led them back to a line of footprints in the snow where one of the three had gone off by himself, perhaps for wood. “The heaviest one—the Tírfaie—from the depth of the prints. And the one who slept alone I think.”
    “That’s good to know, if it comes to a fight,” said Rieser.
    “Look what I found!” Rane exclaimed as they returned to the fire pit. Stooping down, he picked up a long white feather with a few grey lines. “The feather of a white owl, like the one I saw last night.”
    Rieser glanced down at it. “It might make a good pen, if you cut the shaft right.”
    “That’s the Mother’s