Hweilan scowled. "Suffer your-?"
Menduarthis lunged, adder-quick, taking her in a tight embrace, his arms pinning her own. She stiffened as she felt his cool skin press against her cheek, but he only held her tighter. Then the breath of his whisper in her ear. "No one likes a coward. Trust me."
Before she could react, she felt a great rush of air-not the storm, this gale was narrow, concentrated, and under the control of strong will. She almost panicked and tried to fight her way free, but she remembered exactly how Menduarthis had captured her in the first place, and she decided to trust him. Just this once. She could always use the knife once he let her go.
The wind swirled around them, so fast and fierce that it felt almost solid. Menduarthis held her very tight, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe.
The air hit them, a physical blow that knocked them off their feet.
No, Hweilan realized. It was lifting them. They had lurched, but not down. The cyclone was lifting them up, faster and faster each moment.
Hweilan felt a scream building in her chest, and just when she could contain it no more, the cyclone was gone, the wind simply dissipating. Still in Menduarthis's tight embrace, Hweilan fell. Not far, but enough to clamp her teeth together.
They hit a snow-covered ledge of rock and rolled. When they stopped, Hweilan was on her back, Menduarthis on top of her.
He pulled the upper half of his body up and looked down on her. He had a dark smear of halbdol across one cheek where he had rubbed against her. "Do you trust me now?"
She pushed him away with her free hand. "A lot less than I did a moment ago."
They got up. Hweilan found herself on a curving lip of rock several feet wide. Up here, the wind from the storm was stronger, and less snow had gathered. The litter of bones was much more evident. Four skulls-one of which still had bits of flesh and hair clinging to the scalp-and countless random bones strewn about. Even in the wind, the ledge reeked.
Set amid the cliffside was a round window, closed by a thick shutter. It hadn't been crafted by planks of wood, but seemed rather to have been grown or molded, almost like the parchmentlike outer wall of a wasp's nest.
"Follow my lead," said Menduarthis. He walked over to the shutter and raised a fist.
The shutter flew outward, barely missing Menduarthis and revealing the upper half of Roakh, standing on a lower floor just inside the window. Snowflakes sprinkled him, laying against his gray skin and black hair in stark contrast.
"Govuled, Menduarthis," he said. "I thought I heard-" His gaze found Hweilan. She felt it, almost like a physical touch, those black eyes, void of all warmth and emotion save one. Hunger. "What have we here? Brought me a gift, have you?"
Roakh's eyes flicked to the naked blade in Hweilan's hand. His eager gaze was just turning to a scowl when Menduarthis said, "I have.
"And what is the precious gift's name?"
"Boot."
"Boot?" Roakh looked up at Menduarthis — and Menduarthis kicked him in the face.
Roakh fell backward into the room, and Menduarthis jumped in after him. Hweilan's eyes, accustomed to the glare of the snowstorm-fading as it was to evening, it was still bright compared to the gloom beyond the window-could not see the two men, but she could hear Roakh's surprised croak, followed by the sound of more blows landing.
Inside her gloves, Hweilan's palms felt hot and slick. She tightened her grip on the knife and approached the window. Closer up, she could see bits of the room beyond. A hallway not much wider than the window continued a short distance into a larger room beyond. Still no sign of Menduarthis or Roakh, but she could hear frenzied movement inside.
"Hweilan!" Menduarthis called. "Do come in. It's rude to linger outside windows. Someone watching might think we were up to something."
She jumped inside. Keeping her back to the window, she walked forward, the knife held in front of her. She could feel her arms and legs trembling like plucked harp strings, and her breath seemed very loud in her ears.
The room beyond was a wreck. Round walls and a domed ceiling, it seemed-much like Menduarthis's dwelling had-to be more of a cave molded from the rock of the mountain. Shelves lined the wall to her left, each crammed full with bits of clothing, old boots, weapons, jewelry, brass lamps, scrolls, books and pieces of books, and many things Hweilan couldn't identify. Piles of similar items lay around the room, on tabletops, on the floor, and more bundles of sackcloth or net hung from the ceiling, every one packed full.
Menduarthis, a thin trickle of blood dripping down his chin, stood in front of the far door. Roakh, his mouth a mess of blood and broken teeth, one side of his face already swelling, stood pressed against the far wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Treachery!" Roakh screamed, and it came out more of a croak than a cry. "You know what happens to traitors here. Kunin Gatar will flay you for this."
"Perhaps," said Menduarthis. "But not today. Today, you will give us what we want."
"I'll tell you where he is," said Roakh. "Just… don't hurt me anymore."
"Where who is?" said Menduarthis.
"Lendri. Please! He's… he's still alive. The queen ordered him taken to the Thorns. She wants him to die where Miel Edellon died."
Menduarthis pursed his lips and nodded, taking this in. "Very nice," he said. "But that's not why we're here, old crow."
Roakh's eyes widened. "What… do you want?"
"Hweilan here has come for her things," said Menduarthis. "Her father's bow."
Hweilan nodded. "I want it."
Menduarthis smiled down on Roakh, and a shiver went down Hweilan's spine. It was the first time she had seen such an expression from him: pure, undisguised, joyful malice. "I think you know what I have come for, old crow."
Roakh pushed himself away from the wall and into a crouch, his limbs trembling with fury and pain. He glared at Menduarthis a long moment, then said, "Why?"
Menduarthis shrugged. "Why not?"
Roakh leaped at Hweilan. His form blurred and twisted to wings, feathers, and long, sharp claws, aiming for Hweilan's face.
Menduarthis flicked his wrist and thrust an open palm at Roakh. Wind roared through chamber, blowing scrolls off shelves, ripping pages from books, and setting the dangling nets and bundles to swaying. But one directed current of air struck Roakh full force and smashed him into an upper shelf. Hweilan winced at the sound of cracking wood and bone, then Roakh, shocked back into his elflike form again, hit a table below, smashing it beneath him and scattering jewels and coins all over the floor.
"Best not try that again," said Menduarthis. "Hollow bird bones break so easily."
Roakh lay writhing atop the smashed table, clutching at his right side and moaning.
"You broke my arm, you-" The rest of Roakh's rant faded into a long string of words in another language that Hweilan was quite sure were curses.
"Give the lady her bow," said Menduarthis as he walked over to stand over Roakh. He bent down and began to stuff his pockets with jewels and coins. "Be good, and I'll leave you tied and gagged in one of your nets. Continue being… difficult, and-well, have you ever seen an old wineskin filled with too much wine? Imagine what would happen if the air in your wretched frame did the same thing."
Menduarthis stood and twirled his fingers in an intricate pattern, and Hweilan felt a breeze waft through the room. Roakh gasped No, not a gasp. Air was rushing into his lungs, very much against his will. He clamped his jaws shut, then pressed his unbroken hand across his nose. His eyes widened with fear, and tears leaked down the sides of his face.
"I can shove it in through your ears," said Menduarthis, "though we won't be able to continue our conversation once all the little bones in there get shoved down your throat. So give"-he kicked Roakh in the ribs once, a rib cracking under the blow-" the girl"-another kick, and Roakh dropped the hold on his nose-"what"-another kick, this one aimed at Roakh's knee-"she wants!"