"No, bucco. It wasn't a dream."
Tip strained to reach… to reach… but fell back. "My cup, Beau. It's in a crack somewhere."
Beau snatched up his waterskin and filled one of the tin cups, then supported Tip and aided him to drink. After that cup and two more, Tip looked up at Beau cradling him. "Oh, Beau, it's so good to see you. How did you get here? Did you come across Agron's army? Are they all right? The blizzard… the slide…"
Tears filled Beau's eyes. "Oh, bucco, I bring ill news. King Agron, his army, we think they're all dead. The avalanche…"
Tip fell asleep weeping.
Beau came awake in time to add another branch to the dying embers, rekindling the small fire. As he turned he found Tip struggling to sit upright, sucking air through his teeth from the pain.
"Here, bucco, let me help," said Beau, scrabbling over rubble and past Beam in order to get to Tip, where he helped Tip to sit up and slide hindward to place his back against the side wall of the cave for support, the wounded buccan groaning a bit from the pain of movement.
Tip smiled weakly. "You wouldn't happen to have something to eat, now would you? I'm rather famished. Thirsty, too."
Beau snatched up his waterskin and a saddlebag and, as he filled a cup with water, said, "I've some crue and jerky."
"Crue please. I don't have the strength for jerky."
Tip took the cup and drank it all down, then Beau handed him a biscuit. As Tip took a bite, he laughed softly.
Beau looked across at him. "What?"
Tip chewed long moments and then swallowed. "I was just remembering what you said at a morning meal just before we entered Drearwood, Beau." As Beau frowned in puzzlement, Tip said, "You asked, 'Is anything else as tasteless as a crue biscuit?' and then added, 'And jerky is called jerky 'cause it's so accursed tough that it'll jerk your teeth out by the roots just trying to gnaw off a simple bite.' That's what you said, bucco. But let me tell you, right now this crue biscuit tastes quite scrumptious." Tip took another bite.
Beau smiled and watched as Tip chewed, a cup at hand in the event Tip asked for more water.
Tip glanced at Beam and then turned to Beau. "Where did she come from? I mean, when last I saw you, you were lying abed in a prison, just back from Death's door. And the plague, what of the plague? And by the bye, I ate all of the gwynthyme and silverroot, or most of it, that is: two bundles, five roots. Oh, some of the gwynthyme I put on the Vulg bite."
"It probably saved your life, Tip. -The gwynthyme, I mean. Just as it saved mine." Of a sudden Beau's eyes widened and he said, "Oh my."
Tip looked left and right, then asked around a mouthful of crue. "What?"
"Well, it just struck me, Tip: Modru's plague…"
Tip waited, and then gestured with the remainder of the biscuit.
"Oh," said Beau, as if returning from wherever his thoughts had taken him. "Modru's plague, it needed gwynthyme and silverroot to allay it. Silverroot I had, but no gwynthyme. Bekki knew where there was some. You and Bekki harvested it. The plague was put down. You had some gwynthyme with you when you were Vulg bitten and it kept you from dying. Dalavar and the Draega came because Dalavar wanted to see the one who had found the cure for the plague. He helped me to come after you. And it was the Silver Wolves who found you, buried behind snow in this cave."
Beau fell silent, and Tip cocked an eyebrow.
"Oh, Tip, don't you see? Everything is connected. Because of Modru's Plague, Greylight found you,"
"Greylight?"
"Another of the Draega."
Tip glanced at Beam, and then said, "Beau, it was a long chain of events that put me here, and a long chain that brought you to this same place. As to cause and effect, there is no direct link between Modru's plague and our being together at this place at this time. No, this chain was forged link by link, and it easily could have gone a different direction."
"But don't you see, it didn't, Tip. It didn't. All the links led to this place and no other."
Tip sighed and took the last bite of the biscuit, but managed to say, "Just where is this Dalavar you've mentioned several times?"
Beau looked at the opening of the cave. "Oh, he took my rope and knife and went off with several of the Draega. Said he would be back before daylight."
Beau filled the cup with water and handed it to Tip, then crawled forward to place another branch on the fire. As he did so there came a clink of tin on stone, and Beau turned to find Tip asleep, the empty tin cup by his side. Beau crawled back and eased the sleeping buccan away from the wall to lie down next to Beam.
Dalavar returned just ere dawn. He said something to Beam, and that great 'Wolf went out from the small cave, and Trace came inward to take her place.
"I have made a travois, Beau, and as soon as Tipperton is strong enough to travel, we will head for Jallorby."
"D' y' think we can drag him back across the Gronfangs? I mean, some of that passage was right hard."
Dalavar smiled. "I have asked my friends if they would be willing to harness up and haul him. Eaeh of them said yes."
Beau looked at Tip. "He ate something and I think his fever is down, though he is still quite flush. And with that arm… well, it could be awhile. We could run out of food."
Dalavar barked a laugh. "With six Draega hunting? Not likely, my friend."
Beau smiled then frowned. "I'm a bit worried about the fire, what with Vulgs about and Foul Folk. I mean, won't they see the smoke?"
Dalavar's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "As to the fire, the breeze blows what little smoke there is back the way we came, and I think with the avalanche now blocking this way into Gron, this passage is now abandoned by Modru's lackeys both within and without, for we scented no spoor of Spawn when we went to make the travois."
In that moment, Greylight appeared at the mouth of the cave and dropped a hare to the snow. "Ah," said Dalavar, "your breakfast meal is here."
In late midmorn Tip awakened to the smell of coney sizzling on a spit above the fire, Beau squatting and turning it now and again.
"I have to pee, Beau, and I'd rather not foul this nest anymore."
"Oh, Tip, but you are too-"
"Look, bucco, I'm going to go out there if I have to crawl."
"No need for that," said Dalavar, stepping into view and entering the hollow, the Mage stooping and moving inward. He took up the buccan and bore him outward, saying, "I'm Dalavar of Darda Vrka, though some know me as the Wolfmage."
"… and so, in the howl of the blizzard the Vulgs jumped us. I killed one with an arrow, though he bit me, and Auly killed the other one, though he was slain in doing so." Tip paused and leaned back against the stone wall, gathering the remnants of his strength to continue. Beau gave him a drink of gwynthyme tea. Tipperton took a sip and then whispered on. "My pony was dead, and Auly's horse was gone. More Vulgs were coming, and so I grabbed what I could and fled. I thought they would search for me down in the pass, so I climbed the slope and by pure happenstance found this cave and crawled inside." Again Tip paused and took another sip of tea. After a while, and in spite of Beau's protestations, Tip took up the tale once more, his voice trembling with the effort. "A bit later I realized that I was bitten, a Vulg bite, a poison bite, and, Beau, I swear, I heard you trying to remind me of the gwynthyme. I could make no tea such as this, but I ate some mint and I chewed some and spit the juice onto the wound and made a poultice, and… and… Oh well, you know the rest." Tip paused, his breathing thready.
"Fortune turned Her smiling face your way, Waerling," said Dalavar, "for without Her favor you would not have found this cave and would now be buried out yon."
Tip's eyes brimmed and he whispered, "Like thirty thousand others, Dalavar. Thirty thousand."