Lendri.
She couldn't leave him. She knew it now. Not after everything he had done for her. The knife he'd given her had saved her life, and he himself had done so at least twice, risking his own life for hers. Was he using her as Menduarthis said? Perhaps. But if so, she needed to hear it from his own lips. Look into his eyes as he admitted it. And then A life on the run with Menduarthis? To what end? Where? And how soon before he expected to share her blankets in return for helping her?
"No," she said.
"No what?" said Menduarthis, his voice equal parts exasperation and fear.
"We can't leave yet. Not without Lendri."
Menduarthis's jaw dropped, shut again, and he laughed. "You're serious?"
"I'm not leaving without him."
"He's using you, Hweilan!"
"I won't forsake him unless I hear that from his own lips."
Menduarthis turned and kicked a pile of junk on the floor. Jewelry, utensils, an old shoe, and a few books went flying. He kicked another pile for good measure, toppled a small table, and screamed, "Are you serious?"
Hweilan opened her mouth to answer, but the sound of pounding cut her off. she could hear voices yelling outside, though they were too faint, the door too thick, for her to understand. But then she heard one, raised above all the others. "Roakh!"
"Gods buck my bottom, they've come for him," said Menduarthis. His eyes were round and shiny as new-minted coins.
"What do we do?" Hweilan whispered.
Menduarthis paced the room, muttering to himself the whole time, kicking aside piles of clothes as he went. Mice scuttled squeaking from a few of them. He ran out of piles to kick at the wall, then came back toward Hweilan, shoving Roakh's belongings aside as he went.
"What are you doing?" she said.
"Looking. Help me!"
"Looking for what?"
He kicked a large pile of robes, clothes, and old tassels aside, and said, "This!"
Hweilan stepped over, and Menduarthis pulled at an old iron ring set in the floor. A hidden door swung upward, revealing a ladder leading down into darkness.
"Roakh?" said a voice from the other room. Someone had come in through the window, the same as Menduarthis had.
"Where was it Roakh said Lendri is?" Menduarthis whispered.
"The Thorns?"
"The Thorns it is then. In you go." Menduarthis motioned to the ladder.
From the other room came a loud cry. "Roakh! Aivilulta! Aivilulta! Roakh aiviluldulaik!
In she went.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Wait here a moment," said Menduarthis, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "Don't make a sound."
He turned away and shuffled off around a bend in the tunnel. Hweilan was still trying to catch her breath, and she could hear little beyond the hammering of her own heart.
After their frantic flight down the ladder from Roakh's dwelling, Menduarthis had led Hweilan through a series of tunnels. For a while, they had been followed by the sounds of pursuit-light footsteps and the occasional shout. And once their pursuers had come close enough for Hweilan to catch the faint green glow of the lights they held. But then a strong breeze had shot through the tunnel-Menduarthis working his magic-and they scuttled quick as they dared down a series of steps and through a series of several quick turns. It had worked, and there had been no sounds of pursuit since.
They kept on for a long while after that, no longer running but keeping a quick pace. Hweilan's eyes strained, hungry for light, but there was only the dark, intense cold, and the sounds of their own footsteps. In places, Hweilan could feel fresh air against her skin as they passed fissures in the rock. But full night must have fallen outside, for no light leaked through. They walked in utter darkness, Menduarthis keeping a first grip on her cloak.
But then Hweilan realized she could see again. At first she thought it was only a trick of her eyes-the swirling lights and shadows that dance before everyone's sight at times. But no. It was not clear or distinct, but there was no mistaking the shape of Menduarthis before her-a solid blackness in front of only a slightly-less-than-black background. The farther they went, the stronger the light became. It was only moon and starlight, but so hungry were her eyes for even the tiniest fragment of light that by the time they neared the end of the tunnel, Hweilan could see quite well.
She heard furtive movement, and Menduarthis stepped back around the bend. He saw her and said, "All clear, as near as I can tell. Come."
Hweilan followed him out of a cave mouth only slightly larger than the door in Roakh's floor. She had to crouch to get through, and the back of her cloak scraped on icicles. She stood and was struck at the cold brilliance of the night. The storm clouds had broken, and only a few tattered remnants remained-black ribbons tinged almost white by the brilliance of the moon rising over distant mountains. Only a thin crescent, but it was huge, far larger than any moon Hweilan had ever seen, and its silver light was almost painful to her eyes. A million stars rode the sky. Under their combined light, the snow and ice of the world around her shone a brilliant blue, broken only by the black of winter bare trees and jagged rocks.
The cave from which they emerged wormed out of a broad riverbank, but the river itself was a jumble of ice rolling down a gentle slope. Presumably a smaller offshoot of the great river whose fall formed the main gates of Ellestharn. But rather than the sharp cliff of the palace, this bit of the river had taken more of a boulder-riding journey than a fall, before freezing, seemingly in an instant.
Nothing moved for as far as Hweilan could see. Even the wind had died.
"Where are we?" she whispered, and her breath fell as snow before her.
"Downriver from Ellestharn," said Menduarthis. He stood beside her, his gaze roaming over the wide valley before them, his face creased with concern.
"What's wrong?"
"The horns," said Menduarthis. "They've stopped."
"Is that bad?"
"Perhaps. It could mean that they've caught whoever was causing the trouble. Or it could mean all the watches are set, and the entire force of the Ujaiyen is waiting in ambush."
She followed his gaze, imagining the woods lining each side of the valley and every boulder hiding watching eyes. And there was something else. Something she had first felt in the Giantspires with Lendri. That pounding in the base of her skull, mingled with a growing dread. The way she imagined some animals could sense bad weather on the way. A heaviness. An itch. And it was growing stronger by the moment.
"I think we need to go now," she said.
Menduarthis still didn't move. Didn't even look at her. There was an edge to his voice when he said, "You're sure about this? About going after Lendri?"
"He saved my life. Twice."
"For his own reasons. He's using you."
She looked down at her hands, at the bow she held, already gathering a coat of frost from her breath. Were it not for Lendri, she would be some Creel bandit's slave right now, and her father's bow long gone.
"If that's true," she said, "I have to hear it from him."
"If?" Menduarthis's jaw clenched and his eyes went narrow as slits, though he still didn't look at her. "That's it, then? You don't believe me?"
She considered a moment, then said, "Much of what you say rings true. Most, in fact. But damn it, Menduarthis, the man saved me from death and worse. If he is using me, perhaps there is more to it than you know. And even if there isn't, I have to hear it from his lips before I forsake him. I owe him that."