“There,” he said. “That’s where we are. The map shows a valley that matches the contours of this one, but that is all. No indication of a city, not even of ruins as were marked in a few other places.”
“Could this be that Wythcombe’s doing?” Blind Seer asked. “I thought his lair was farther along.”
“It is,” Arasan agreed, showing the location on the map. “This valley is outside the area that we were told Wythcombe claimed as his own.”
“Yet not too far,” the Meddler added, his tone musing. “Perhaps this is a test of some sort.”
“A test?” Firekeeper asked. “How so?”
The Meddler gave one of his eloquent loose-shouldered shrugs. “A great deal could be learned about a person from how they treated this obstacle. Many would retreat in fear, go back, seek the authorities, and ask them to inspect. Others would go around—or at least attempt to do so. Even among those who decide to pass through, there would be differences. Some would be very careful. Others might seek to assure their ability to retreat, perhaps by breaking the gate.”
“I understand,” Firekeeper said. “So you think this is a test by Wythcombe—perhaps a means to decide who might be a possible student, who might not?”
“That’s what I think,” the Meddler agreed.
“So whatever we do—even if we do nothing—that may influence Blind Seer’s chance to win this teacher.” Firekeeper turned to the wolf. “So since if this is a test, you are the one being tested. I think you should be the one who chooses. Do we go around or go through? That is the first.”
Blind Seer considered. As he did so, he realized that except for when he and Firekeeper had lived on Misheemnekuru, this was the first time he had been One. And on Misheemnekuru, he had been a wolf among wolves—different wolves, with some odd cultural beliefs, true—but still wolves. Now the humans waited patiently for his reply although a city of ice sparkled on the trail before them.
“Through,” he said, “but carefully through. Footing is something we must consider. Farborn, you will be very important. I’m not certain it would be wise to send you to scout the entire place, but perhaps you could tell us something about how the roads run? Does that main road go all the way through or are there obstacles?”
The merlin ran his beak through his wing feathers. “I am well-rested, so if you wish, I can go now. I will do as I did on the plains: fly high and watch for predators.”
Blind Seer thanked him. Then, while Firekeeper translated for the others, he moved to where he could keep the little dark form in sight as long as possible.
The Meddler said without his usual mockery, “One thing you might consider is that the test will include not only if you choose to cross the city or go around, but whether or not you explore.”
Blind Seer cocked his head to invite him to speak on, and the Meddler continued.
“I’m not saying one choice is better than another, just that someone who travels in a direct line is saying one thing about themselves, while one who explores says another.”
Blind Seer considered. He neither liked nor trusted the Meddler, but that didn’t mean he was going to reject his advice for that reason alone. His first inclination had been to go directly through, not risking lingering in a potentially dangerous place. However, he and Firekeeper had learned much from poking their noses into places others avoided.
“Let us hear Farborn’s report,” he replied, with Firekeeper translating. “Also, let us test the footing. If the ground underfoot is slick as a frozen pond, then lingering is not wise. However, if the footing is good, perhaps looking about would be useful. One can learn about the fox from how he digs his den.”
Farborn circled down not long after, perching importantly on Firekeeper’s backpack. “The road that leads through the gate does continue to a gate at the far side of the valley. This road is not precisely straight, but curves from time to time because of the rise and fall of the land. There are also open areas where the road splits to go around some building, fountain, or statue. Near the center of the city, another great road crosses the first. This second road goes in one direction towards the palace on the heights, in the other to some other large building. I didn’t want to fly low enough to try and see what that one might be. Humans and their buildings are often a great mystery to me.”
Firekeeper had been doing a running translation for Laria and Arasan. As she concluded, she added, “How about living things? What did you see?”
“That may be the oddest part of all,” Farborn replied. “Although the place is built in human fashion and on human scale, I saw no humans, nor even human-like creatures, such as the maimalodalum. I did see some birds, but I saw no other living things.”
“No wonder,” Blind Seer huffed. “Except for some trees, there seems to be nothing alive within those walls. Without anything to eat, even creatures that might be tempted by the shelter of the walls would not be able to live there. Avians alone could live within that place, for they are gifted with the means to live in one place, hunt in another.”
When Firekeeper finished her translation, she shouldered on her pack. “Then down we go, for even Farborn’s keen eyes cannot test the footing for us. Blind Seer will take point. Of us two-legs, I will stay in front, with my bow ready. The path is wide enough that if Arasan and Laria walk slightly behind me, but to the sides, they should be able to see anything that comes at us. Farborn, if you are not in the air, will you ride on one of our packs, facing to guard our following trail?”
The merlin agreed, his shrill cry so articulate that Firekeeper did not bother to translate.
Blind Seer paused to bump his head against her before, raising his nose high to sample the wind, he led them down the trail into the valley.
Firekeeper had considered caching her much-despised pack so as to be able to move freely if something attacked, perhaps from beneath the snow. However, she knew the impulse for the excuse it was. These many days she had been fighting an image of herself become not a wolf but a packhorse. As she moved down the road behind Blind Seer, strung bow held lightly in one hand, she took comfort from her awareness that both Laria and Arasan admired the ease with which she carried the load.
It was thin enough comfort.
They paused repeatedly on their way so Blind Seer could check for fresh scents and Farborn for any sign that any were aware of their coming. The assurances that nothing had changed did little to ease Firekeeper’s growing tension. When they paused for one last time before passing through the gate, Laria gave a small, soft gasp.
“I’ve been trying and trying to figure out what this place reminds me of… Now we’re closer, I can tell. Sometimes, when we were little and the weather was fine, the children would be let play on one of the sand beaches. We’d make buildings from wet sand, ornament them with rocks and shells, stick in twigs for trees. This is like that. Look at the wall. It hasn’t been built from blocks. It’s been shaped from packed snow, then lines have been etched in. I wonder if the other buildings are the same?”
Farborn shrieked. “From above it is hard to tell. Do you wish me to go check?”
Blind Seer shook his head. “Soon enough we can all check together. Firekeeper, thank Laria for me.”
After Firekeeper did so, Laria said shyly, “I could use my gift, see if the walls remember anything of their making.”
Blind Seer replied, “Let us save that, for using your talent is not without risk. At the very least, it can weary you.”
“I agree with Blind Seer,” Arasan said. “What if you were dragged into a vision as happened on the plain? Or all you might learn is that magic was involved. I’d say we can guess that from what we see before us. Sculpting a city from snow and ice on this scale would be the work of moonspans, maybe years, without magic. In any case, time enough for it to be included on a map. From what Varelle told us, the Rhinadeians have not given up on tempting Wythcombe back to their community, and so supplies are brought to him before winter closes in.”
; “Hmm…” Laria said, touching the narrow strip of brown leather that ran through her braid. “I get it. I’ll wait.”
Firekeeper turned to Laria and Arasan. “First Blind Seer goes in, then I follow. What do you know of walking on snow and ice?”
Laria’s laugh didn’t quite hide her uneasiness. “Enough. Especially ice. You managed to not be on the Nexus Islands during the worst of the winter weather, or you wouldn’t need to ask.”
Firekeeper flashed a grin, appreciating the jibe, and replied with mock haughtiness. “In winter, I took away this great companion of mine lest he eat all the meat and leave none for you. Arasan? Are you like Laria, well-skilled?”
“Well enough,” Arasan said. “But I’m not as young as the rest of you. Let’s take it easy at first.”
Despite their concern, they found the footing was surprisingly good. The snow underfoot crunched and gave, so that they were not much worse off than if they had walked in deep sand.
However, their initial exploration raised almost as many questions as it answered. Many of the buildings were as Laria had guessed—beautifully worked models made of snow and ornamented with ice. Most buildings were solid blocks, except, perhaps, for a covered porch or a gabled window. Some buildings, however, were fully or partially carved out. Windows of clear ice invited them to look inside into fully furnished rooms where more snow and ice had been sculpted into the likeness of furnishings.
“Doll houses,” Laria said, shivering and reaching to button her coat. “No dolls, though. Not even pets. Just cold, dead rooms.”
In the mountains outside this valley, autumn had still held dominant, but here within the city the temperatures were much colder, although far from unbearable. Firekeeper found herself wondering how much of Laria’s chill came from the idea of this much snow and ice, rather than any great increase in cold. Nonetheless, she drew on finely knitted fingerless gloves as a precaution against her fingers becoming stiff.
“Very much so,” Arasan agreed. “So, does Blind Seer want to look around further or do we get out of this place?”
Blind Seer cast his nose along the ground. “Unless the humans are becoming dangerously chilled, I would like to explore further. Whether sculptures or doll houses, this place had a maker or makers. I would like to learn what I can about them.”
“Well and good,” Firekeeper said. “You are master of this hunt. If you wish to look more, I will look with you.” She switched to human speech. “Blind Seer says he would look more, but if any grow cold, then we will first take you to the far end of the valley and out the gate. What have you?”
“I’m not too cold,” Laria said, “not yet. And there’s something weirdly fascinating about this place. It’s beautiful for one, and such care has gone into the making. The Meddler may be right and it’s some sort of test, sure, but that doesn’t take away from the fineness of it.”
Arasan chuckled. “I agree. I’ll tell you when the cold starts sinking into my bones. For now, I’d like to continue in company.”
They crunched along the snow-covered streets, marveling at the delicacy and detail that had gone into the buildings. There were bakery shops with loaves and cakes displayed in bow windows. Shoe shops with every tool arrayed on rack and scattered on bench, as if the cobbler had just walked away. Livery stables with full mangers and carefully accoutered tack rooms—although with empty stalls. Every trade imaginable—as well as a few that puzzled all but the Meddler, who explained that they had to do with supplies for the magical arts—was represented, but not a single human nor dog nor cat nor any domesticated animal was included among the intricate sculptures.
When they arrived at the intersection that led in one direction toward the palace, the other to the large building whose purpose Farborn had not been able to guess, they paused while Blind Seer cast about for any fresh scents. At length he paused, tilting his head to one side and whined uneasily.
“I catch the faintest of traces of a human scent, sweet Firekeeper. It is not so much old as obscured, as is the trail of a deer after fresh snowfall.”
She hurried to his side, although she knew that what his nose could not discern, hers would certainly not find, but sometimes her human eyes saw what his missed. This time, though, she could offer no help.
“I see nothing but this ever-white, ever-level snow. What direction does the trail go?”
“Each way.” The wolf gestured by swinging his great head. “But it is strongest on the path between the palace and the structure that balances it. Which way should we go?”
“First, tell me what you can learn from this scent, faint as it is. Could it be that of Wythcombe?”
“I think not. The humans spoke of him as a wise elder. This scent is male, most definitely, but younger. I am reminded of that of Derian, perhaps even younger. Adult, definitely, but not well grown.”
“I suppose,” Firekeeper considered, “that this Wythcombe could have learned to make himself young. That is an obsession of many in the tales we have heard. Bide for a moment while I tell the humans of your findings. They grow concerned.”
Without leaving Blind Seer’s side, she gave a quick summary of what the wolf had learned, concluding, “We two will definitely seek to track this one, but we do not ask that you risk yourselves. If you wish, we will take you to the gate of your choice, then return.”
Laria sighed. “Firekeeper, would you stop trying to get rid of us? I’m with you, more than ever. If Blind Seer’s nose can’t find this man’s trail, maybe my talent can.”
Arasan rubbed his hands together. “And miss the best part of the story? Lead on!”
Firekeeper looked at Blind Seer. “Which way then?”
“The trail is no clearer one way or another. You choose.”
“Then we go toward the palace. That is a place meant for drawing the eye. And such places usually are the dens of important people.”
But although the details of the palace proved more and more amazing the closer they came—lacework balconies spun from ice, intricate “stonework” patterns on the walls, an elegant front plaza, pointed towers from which frozen flags seemed to wave in the wind—they confirmed that this was merely a model of a palace. Farborn flew up to confirm that behind the glittering windows there was nothing but packed snow.
Blind Seer’s nose found that, rather than leading to the palace, the scent trail was heaviest in front of a very unassuming house some streets over from the palace. This dwelling stood some two stories high, with a peaked roof and gabled windows. It had a covered porch, and curtained windows. When Firekeeper crept to peek in through a gap in the curtains, she nearly reeled back in astonishment.
“Firekeeper!” Laria cried out and would have raced forward, but Blind Seer gripped her jacket in his teeth. “What is it?”
“Color,” Firekeeper said. “I was so startled. Inside here, for the first time, there is not ice and snow, but things such as humans use.”
The furnishings were not much, as such things went. A bench made from a log sawn in half, a table made from what looked to be part of the same log. A bedroll pulled close to a hearth made from grey stones, mortared together, feeding into a chimney that was—on the outside—cased in ice so as to seem no different from the others. An iron kettle hung in the fireplace. Firewood was piled to one side. On a line hung items of clothing, doubtless drying after being washed.
But, despite this evidence of habitation, the snow around this dwelling was as unmarked as elsewhere.
“Does a spirit live here, then?” Laria asked, her voice trembling.
“Spirits do not leave scent trails,” Firekeeper said, grinning at the Meddler where he peered out from Arasan’s eyes. “Take this from one who has hunted such. Nor do they need kettles or clothes. We have found someone’s lair, but whose? I not think it is Wythcombe.”
“Perhaps,” Arasan said, shrugging off his pack and finger-combing his hair where it extended from under his hat, “we should knock. I would be happy to do the honors. Firekeeper
and Blind Seer are rather intimidating.”
Firekeeper had to admit Arasan was right.
“We stand back, then,” she said. “I not even put an arrow to my bowstring, but I will promise you, that I can do very fast.”
Laria realized she was holding her breath as Arasan strode up to the front door, managing to somehow seem confident without being in the least threatening. His poise was definitely a gift, one that—in its own way—was just as wonderful as Firekeeper’s assortment of wolf-taught abilities.
Arasan rapped at the door several times. Stood, waiting politely, then, when no one answered the door, knocked again. This time, when the knock went unanswered, his hand slid down the press the latch.
“It’s not locked,” the Meddler said, and was clearly about to open the door when Arasan stopped him in mid-motion, Firekeeper voiced a stern “No!” and Blind Seer gave a single sharp bark.
“I would not love anyone,” Arasan said, his voice a little tight as he struggled for control of his own body, “who walked into my house uninvited, whether or not the door was unlocked. Restrain yourself, Meddler.”
The Meddler gave a theatrical sigh but, since Firekeeper and Blind Seer also took Arasan’s part, he didn’t argue. Laria agreed even if she didn’t speak out. She remembered how precious her little corner had been in the days when her family had shared crowded quarters.
Farborn whistled and chirped something from where he had flown up to the chimney.
“Farborn say there is heat here, but the ice does not show more than the smallest melt, so the fire within is probably banked,” Firekeeper translated. Then she shrugged to indicate she was now speaking for herself. “So, do we wait here for the one who lives here to return, or do we explore more? Blind Seer say that he would like to look more, perhaps to that other large building Farborn saw, since the trail seemed to go that way as well. If you wish, we could split our forces and some stay, some go, with Farborn to fly between.”
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