7 Folds of Winter

by Carolyn McCray

  “The stud?” Ornery offered innocently, until he realized how strange that word sounded describing his uncle.

  Miss Emmert’s cheeks even blushed. “Yes, Vezar is known for his virility.” His caretaker could not say anymore, as she was seized with the giggles. “Oh, dear, we should not take this subject lightly.” The woman could not help it, though, and she continued to struggle against her giggles. Ornery found himself laughing along with her. Soon, their amusement turned to laughter, then to full belly laughs.

  “Oh, my...” Miss Emmert wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Yes, you were correct, Ornery. Vezar is a Stallion, so all the offspring from his Herd are his own and will be until another challenges and defeats him.”

  “Exactly how many cousins do I have?”

  “Last count? Over forty. The Northern Herd is the largest upon the Steppes. Just last year Vezar challenged the old Stallion Premier and took over his modest herd, so there should be plenty more foals on the way.”

  Ornery pulled himself more upright and took a few breaths of the cold air. Not only did Ornery have family, he had lots of it. It was bizarre to think of himself having roots and a heritage to be proud of, well, at least having a family heritage. “If Vezar knows of my existence, why didn’t I just go to live with him when Father didn’t want me?”

  For a moment, Ornery thought Miss Emmert was going to strike him. Her brown eyes glowered at him with the gold flecks glinting in the dusky light. “I never want to hear you say that again.” She turned away, but he could still see her jaw muscles working and her lips pursed in anger.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

  “Your father did not abandon you. Dimitri had no choice. No one did. You need to take that as fact. The rest you can speculate upon.”

  This was all so hard. Why was she making it all the more difficult? Why could she not just tell him what he needed to know? After all, it was his family, his story, that the woman was withholding, but the look on her reddened cheeks warned him not to attempt that line of argument.

  So Ornery tried a different approach, one that he had learned long ago, when she first started tutoring him in his schooling. “How can I draw any conclusions when you’ve given me so little information?”

  Ornery watched his caretaker closely out of the corner of his eye. Her mouth softened, and her cheeks paled a bit. Finally, the muscles around her eyes relaxed, and she breathed out deeply. “Do not think you can weasel this answer like you did your ’rithmetic principles. You’ve heard enough Centaur legends at the pubs and taverns. My hope is that you can sort myth from reality.”

  Trying hard not to let the shock cross his face, Ornery wondered exactly how much Miss Emmert knew of his nighttime visits to the pubs.

  But of course! He’d always made his escape through the horses’ stalls!

  By the gods, they knew everything about him. It was his turn to flush again. They could not possibly have heard him when he snuck away to, you know...

  “Do not worry. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  Ornery could not help but take in a sharp breath. This was far too embarrassing for any one person to handle.

  “You didn’t do anything a boy or colt would not experiment with at your age.”

  Ornery tried to merge with the wooden planks beneath him, but the boards were unyielding. His breath clouded before him, steamy from humiliation. Ornery wanted to say something. He needed to say something, but his body refused to accommodate. Miss Emmert’s forgiving smile was not helping anything.

  “Look to the ground,” she said.

  Offered something else to do than squirm in his own juices, Ornery immediately turned his gaze downward but had to grab hold of the side rail. It looked like they were flying! The wagon was not plodding along. It was gliding over the snow like an ice skater on a pond. His head jerked back to check with Miss Emmert, but her smile only deepened. Ornery looked more closely at the horses and realized they were leaving no hoof prints, nor were they kicking up snow with each stride.

  “Did you believe your cousins were just ordinary horses?” Miss Emmert continued, while Ornery tried to assimilate yet another piece to the puzzle. “Did you really think I’d head out on a five-day trip across the Barren Flats in the Dead of Winter? We should be reaching Last Hitch by moonrise.”

  “But why are we going way out there?”

  “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  Ornery braced himself. By the amused look on Miss Emmert’s face, he was certain that whatever the news was, it would shake his world yet again.

  “Why, we’re going to meet your father.”

  *****

  CHAPTER 11

  Crystalia hurried along the alleyway, clinging to the shadows. It had taken her what seemed like forever to cut across town. It appeared her father had the Watch out after her. Crystalia had to take the back alleys the entire distance. She had wasted valuable time hiding until the garrison’s men passed. Crystalia was not about to be found out yet. Before the girl faced her father’s wrath, she wanted to share her joy with Viola.

  Every other step, Crystalia checked her hand to be sure the compass was still there. The symbol was moving, arcing west. Surely this meant that the Hero still lived. Impulsively, she kissed her palm. Where her lips had touched now glowed a ruby red and pulsed with her own heartbeat.

  Hiding her hand within the folds of her bag, Crystalia slunk forward. Luckily, everyone’s shutters were closed tightly against the coming storm. Still, she could not be careless. Crystalia did not wish to be caught before she could thrill Viola with her avalanche of news.

  Cautiously, Crystalia approached the large, white-brick building. Already the house’s lamps were extinguished. Crystalia scanned the second floor. She prayed for a sign of Viola, but only a tiny candle flickered on a nightstand.

  Shouting would only attract the neighbors, and the night man would sooner scold her than fetch Viola. Crystalia grabbed a few stray pebbles and tossed them at Viola’s window. Instead of the second floor, however, they tinkled against the panes on the first level. Standing frozen against the wall, Crystalia waited. No one came to the window or even turned up a lamp. She’d gotten lucky. Crystalia took a deep breath and prepared to throw a second batch.

  Crystalia whispered into the frigid night air, “Please...” She threw the stones, but they appeared to be on the same course as the first. “No, Viola’s window!”

  To her surprise, the pebbles altered their trajectory and clinked against her best friend’s window. Crystalia stared at her hands. They looked the same, felt the same, but she could have sworn her fingers had corrected the pebbles’ path.

  Her attention was torn away from her hand by golden curls shimmering in the candlelight. Viola stood groggy at the window, frowning. Before her friend could turn back, Crystalia stepped out into the street lamp’s light and waved her hands frantically, but Viola looked the wrong way down the street, then headed back to bed.

  “Viola!” Crystalia whispered harshly under her breath. Her friend turned abruptly and looked around the room as if she’d heard Crystalia. Crystalia hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, barely lifting her voice beyond her lips. “Viola, I’m down here...”

  A look of shock crossed Viola’s face as she scanned her own floor.

  “No, down here in the street.”

  Slowly, Crystalia’s friend walked to the window and peered out. Excitement got the better of Viola, and she let out a little cry, racing to open the window.

  “No! They’ll hear. We have to meet somewhere.”

  Viola tilted her head. Her friend’s mouth moved, but Crystalia could not make out what she said.

  “I can’t hear you. Talk more slowly.”

  Viola moved closer to the window and formed the word, “Stable.”

  “Good, I’ll meet you at the stables! You are never going to believe what happened!” Crystalia said as she waved to her friend.

  Her heels clicked on the
cobblestones as she rushed to the back of the house. The sound rang in her ears, but she barely noticed. Oh, to relive her life’s most precious day with her best friend. Crystalia skidded to a stop on the icy stones. She nudged open the thick barn door and peered inside. Carefully, Crystalia checked to be sure the stable boy was not out in the corridor, and then snuck in, gently closing the door behind her.

  The stable was pitch black and so quiet that she could hear the air moving past her nostrils. Only the occasional snort could be heard from the animals. The smell was a rich mixture of oats and horses — a nice aroma to curl up with. But it only reminded her of how long it had been since she herself had slept. Crystalia crept along the stalls and hid herself next to a bale of hay.

  In and out she breathed, counting the seconds until Viola joined her. How many glorious secrets she had to tell!

  Crystalia nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Spinning around, her bag ready, Crystalia found Viola standing there, clutching the night robe to her throat, a tall candle in the other hand. Her friend must have nearly flown down the stairs to get here so fast.

  “Where have you been? The entire town is out searching for you! They think slavers got you!” Viola chided her.

  “No, oh, it’s so much more exciting than that! Traven, he has —”

  “There’s been no word, Crystalia. The commander has called off the search.”

  Crystalia grabbed her friend by the arms and held Viola until she quieted. “The Hero lives.”

  “I know. I hope he is too.”

  “Traven lives. I know he has survived.”

  Viola shook her head. “Your skull must be frozen, Crystalia. No one knows—”

  “My hand knows.” Crystalia showed Viola her palm. “See the symbol.” Crystalia caught her friend as she stumbled back from her palm. “It’s all right. It won’t hurt you.”

  “How... how did you get a spirit sexton?”

  “A what? Viola, it’s a compass. It shows me where Traven is.”

  Viola moved forward and lightly touched Crystalia’s wrist, looking too afraid to touch the actual palm. “How did you get it?”

  “It’s the hand Traven kissed! He planted it there!”

  Viola hissed, “No!” Recovering from her shock, Viola studied Crystalia’s palm again. “But I’ve seen your hand a hundred times after he kissed you. This wasn’t there before.”

  “Madame Hesper brought it to light.”

  Viola recoiled again. “The witch? What were you doing at Hanger’s Mansion?”

  “I wanted to find out how Traven was.” Viola still looked upset. Crystalia scooted closer to her friend. This was not how it was supposed to be, but she could understand Viola’s suspicions. Crystalia herself had been just as scared and doubtful at first.

  Now, though, it all seemed natural. As if she’d had these gifts all her life. Crystalia wanted to share everything that had happened, but she doubted if Viola could stand a demonstration of her other “skills” Madame Hesper had given her.

  Viola would most probably faint dead away if Crystalia turned the barn’s plain wood into mahogany. Even to Crystalia, these other magicks seemed whimsical and almost dreamy. Traven’s compass — now that was tangible and in plain view for all to see. For now, Crystalia would keep the rest to herself until Viola calmed down. Maybe Madame Hesper could explain things to the both of them.

  “You can come with me to Hanger’s Mansion tomorrow!”

  “Me? Go into that den of... of...? Never!”

  Crystalia held out her left hand, palm down so that Viola would not be even more startled by her new lifeline. “That’s what I thought, but it was not like that at all. Madame Hesper is... she was... you don’t need to be afraid of her. Really.”

  Viola sniffled a bit. “But all the stories.”

  “I don’t know about those. Now she’s just... well, she’s dying.”

  “That’s impossible!” Viola nearly shouted.

  Not letting go of her friend’s hand, Crystalia continued to comfort Viola. She burned to tell her friend the all of it, but Viola was already troubled enough. “She’s grown ill. Madame Hesper wants me to apprentice with her until... Well, until the end.”

  Crystalia guided Viola to the bale of hay where they both sat down. Crystalia looked around, fearful that Viola’s outbursts might have roused the stable boy.

  “Don’t worry. The stable boy’s out at the cockfight,” Viola said in a fog.

  Relaxing her vigil, Crystalia turned her attention back to her friend. “The good news is that I will always, always, know where Traven is.”

  Tentatively, Viola turned Crystalia’s right palm over again. “Can you tell if he is alive?”

  “He’s moving.”

  “But his body, you know, might be dragged or something...”

  Crystalia had never thought of that possibility! That would be tragic beyond belief. Her heart sank. Crystalia liked it better when she had no doubt he was alive.

  “Did Madame Hesper show you a way to see if he lived?” Viola asked.

  She stared at her palm. The symbol was moving at a slow and steady pace towards her pinkie. “No. Do you think there is a way?”

  Viola demurred and looked away. “I’m sure Madame Hesper would have told you if there was.”

  “I’m sorry, Viola. I thought I had such good news to share.”

  “It’s all right. You’ve tried your best.” Viola patted Crystalia’s hand. “We’ll just have to wait for the Fates to show us the outcome.”

  Crystalia squirmed.

  Viola would die — keel over — if she knew what Crystalia knew about Fate and Lovers. If Viola was jealous about the kiss on her hand, just wait until her friend heard about the Tarot cards. Crystalia judged her friend’s face. Perhaps Viola was ready for a bit more news.

  “Brace yourself. All right?”

  “For what?” Viola asked, her voice a scared whisper.

  “Madame Hesper thinks I might be Traven’s... you know... his...”

  “His what?”

  “She thinks I’m his soul mate! Can you believe it? And once I’ve learned all I can from her, I’m to join him! That’s what the compass is for!”

  For a moment, Viola sat unmoving, not even breathing. Crystalia worried for a second that the very shock of the news had killed her dearest friend.

  “Viola?”

  Her friend sat stunned, then blinked. The color returned to Viola’s cheeks, and she talked excitedly, “Crystalia, you must go to him! Madame Hesper must be right.”

  “Do you think? Really?”

  “Look at your hand! And the way the Hero looked at you! I am so envious. The priest isn’t going to believe my confession this week!”

  “Perhaps you could come with me? As a companion?”

  “Have a friend along on your honeymoon? Has your brain frozen again? You won’t want me within a hundred acres of you!”

  Crystalia smiled. Viola was right, but Crystalia had been trying to be considerate of her best friend’s feelings. The adventure was somehow even more grand when she thought about meeting him alone. After the wedding, Crystalia would come home and tell Viola all the details anyway.

  Viola popped up and pulled Crystalia to her feet. “What are we doing sitting around? You need to leave tonight!”

  “What? Viola, it’s you that has been touched —”

  “We’ve got to hurry,” Viola interrupted as she ran about the stable, pulling down a piece of tack here and some supplies there. “The stable boy will be back soon, and you can’t hide from the guards much longer.”

  “I know. I’ll go home to Pappy —”

  “And tell him what? Crystalia, if you stay in Last Hitch, they’ll lock you up!”

  Crystalia followed as Viola continued to gather gear. “Viola, what are you talking about?”

  “Listen to yourself, girl! Everyone thought you daft when you socialized with him the first time. Remember how they snickered and made fun of
us? Can you imagine what they will think if they heard you talk now? You and the Hero — soul mates? Destiny? Please, you’ll be lucky if the church Elders only lock you up! More than likely, they’ll throw you out onto the tundra like Traven. Do you think you’ll survive as well as he?”

  For a moment, the room started to spin. Crystalia had never thought of the town’s reaction. To them, Traven was the enemy — an evil man, sent to do the work of the devil. Even if they believed she and Traven to be soul-mates, what did that make her? Dear gods, Viola was right.

  “But Pappy will protect me.”

  Viola simply looked over her shoulder, giving Crystalia a look of disdain.

  “But he wouldn’t let them take me!” Crystalia protested, despite the growing feeling that Viola was very correct in her assessment.

  “Maybe not, but your father will have you married off before you can blink. Is that what you want? Married to one of these yokels? How are you getting away from your new husband to go on this quest of yours?”

  It was obvious Crystalia had not thought all of this through, but surely the medium had. “Madame Hesper will find a way to sneak me out of town.”

  “You said she was dying? She doesn’t have enough strength to save herself. How is she going to help you?”

  Crystalia tried to figure out a retort, but none formed in her mind. This day was maddening. Every time Crystalia thought her world had stopped spinning, something set her off-kilter again. “But —”

  “Crystalia, there is no other way. You’ve got to get out of town before they realize who you are. It’s the only way.”

  “How am I going to get past the gate? It’s locked for the night and the guard...”

  Viola turned and let her hair tumble from its pins. She looked at Crystalia with heat in her eyes. “You don’t think I can distract the guards?”

  Crystalia stepped back. She had never seen her friend like this. The blonde was all sharp and plotting. Viola usually could only keep a single thought in her head, and even then, you might not be able to coax the whole thing out.