Lahp had scrutinised Garec carefully when he followed Steven into the lean-to. He examined the longbow, tugged several times at the bowstring and even sniffed at the fletching of the arrows in the twin quivers.
Curiosity satisfied, he drew another grettan steak from what looked to be a bottomless pack and placed it carefully next to the two already cooking.
Garec ate hungrily; he told his companions he had never realised how lean and tender grettan meat would be. ‘I’m too tired even to remember what fresh bread tastes like,’ he joked. ‘There’s bound to be fish in the river, even in this cold. I’ll get some for breakfast; we must, after all, have a varied diet.’
Grunting his culinary approval, Lahp bid them both a good night and retired to his own pile of blankets next to the fire, leaving space beneath the lean-to for Garec. When the Ronan tried to protest, the Seron just pushed him back.
‘Na, na,’ he said. ‘Lahp na cahld. Lahp good.’
Wrapped up in a white-coated huddle, Steven thought the Seron looked rather like a pitcher’s mound after a spring snowstorm.
Later, huddled together under the entwined branches of their shelter, the two men caught up on each other’s news. Garec said he had moved ahead of Brynne and Sallax once they reached the valley floor. He had been looking for game to shoot when he smelled the smoke from Lahp’s fire. Brynne and Sallax would be along sometime soon; as for Mark; they had split up some days before. Steven, deeply concerned at this news, kicked angrily at a wayward ember that popped from a burning log and landed near his feet.
‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ Garec said, a little unconvincingly. ‘He is at home in the mountains, far more than the rest of us, certainly.’
‘That’s true,’ Steven answered, feeling horribly responsible for his friend’s wellbeing. ‘He’s tough, much tougher than me.’ He reached behind Garec for more wood. ‘We need to keep the fire going until the others get here.’ He leaned forward and gently placed the logs into the blaze. ‘Until all of them get here.’
Finally, he asked about Gilmour. When Garec hadn’t answered earlier, Steven knew the news was bad. He did not cry; he didn’t believe he still could. Instead, he felt his stomach tighten, as if he had eaten something rancid and was about to retch.
The feeling lingered and intensified: without the Larion Senator, he and Mark might never get home. Selfish, but true. And Nerak would use Lessek’s spell table to tear open the Fold and free his evil master. If they were to cross the Ravenian Sea and make their way to Welstar Palace without Gilmour, he might be called upon to wield the hickory staff in defence of his friends. Steven nearly choked. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees in an effort to ease the pain across his stomach. It was hard to breathe, as if the air had thinned suddenly, and he reached for the staff, pulling it close under the lean-to, a magical comfort in a wild and desperate land. Garec patted him gently on the shoulder and Steven realised that he had to do it. He would risk everything to save them. He would go to Malakasia, and face Nerak, even without being able to say goodbye to Hannah, or, more importantly, to say sorry.
He would lose, that was a given: it was as clear to him as anything he had ever known – but he was not as afraid as he had expected to be. Rather, he was sorry. He was sorry he would never see Hannah again. She was here; she was so close that he could almost feel her, smell the aroma of lilac that surrounded her… and he would not see her again in this lifetime. It was sad, but not tragic.
‘She must know I love her,’ he whispered, and Garec squeezed his shoulder more tightly.
‘I am certain she does.’
‘I’ll have to face Nerak.’
‘Yes.’ Garec stared into the fire and again saw his sisters, the farm and his family back in Rona. ‘But I’ll be there with you.’
‘You?’
‘Of course.’ He forced a smile. ‘I never imagined it would be the thing I do best.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Kill.’ Garec stared down at their boots, side by side in the snow. He could not remember when they had traded. ‘I wanted to be a woodsman, a hunter, like Versen, but circumstances forced me to become a killer. I fire arrows that find their target. It’s not magic; it’s just my willingness to do so. Its simplicity is beautiful. I am the best bowman I have ever known, and I say that not as a boast but as a matter of fact. I never hesitate, but afterward, I have frightening regrets; I often wish I had not fired at all. But if I can help you at Welstar Palace, Steven, I will.’
‘Your arrows will have no effect on Nerak.’
‘True enough, but I imagine there’ll be hundreds of guards on hand, and servants too, every one willing to give their life to save his.’
Steven remembered Garec standing atop Seer’s Peak, his bow at the ready. When the almor attacked, he had fired shaft after shaft with almost inhuman speed. Garec was right; he would be a powerful ally when it came time for their assault on Nerak’s keep.
‘Well, don’t we make a pair,’ he said. ‘Two hesitant killers out to battle evil, hopelessness, tragedy and suffering.’ Steven paused a moment before elbowing Garec gently in the ribs. ‘I think we’re going to get our asses kicked.’
The Ronan archer needed a translation, but when he had deciphered the colloquialism, he burst into laughter, a jovial belly-laugh that woke Lahp from his slumber and brought a moment’s grace to the frozen valley floor.
*
Steven had fallen asleep when Brynne and Sallax entered the clearing, but he awakened when Garec leaped up to help them. Lahp, seeing their drawn faces and emaciated bodies, was rummaging for more grettan meat before they’d even sat down. Hugging Steven tightly, Brynne whispered, ‘Have you seen him?’
‘No,’ Steven answered, ‘but I’m sure he’s all right. He’s very strong.’ He released her, dried a tear from her cheek with a corner of his cloak and said quietly, ‘I am so very sorry about Gilmour.’
Brynne’s brow furrowed and her mouth turned down slightly at the edges, a tiny gesture that spoke volumes. Her eyes glistened and she shook her head sternly from side to side. ‘No,’ she said firmly, ‘I will not-’ She paused to drag a sleeve under her nose, a starkly unladylike gesture that made Steven grin with genuine affection. ‘I will not lose them both.’ She looked at him as if her will alone would bring Mark Jenkins jogging contentedly along the trail. ‘I will not.’
‘I know,’ Steven responded reassuringly. ‘He’ll be along. He has to. Who’s going to save my life the next time I go wandering off on a fool’s errand?’
‘Steven,’ Sallax said loudly, and slapped him hard across the back, ‘it’s good to see you doing so well.’
‘And you, too, Sallax,’ Steven returned. ‘The last time I saw you I was quite worried.’
‘That has passed,’ the big Ronan grinned. ‘That demon wraith hit me hard, but I’ve recovered. We shall have to be on the lookout for that horsecock, and I hope you’ll have a chance at him with that staff of yours.’
Steven risked a glance back at Brynne. Something was wrong. This wasn’t the same Sallax who had led them from Estrad. Garec had mentioned that Sallax was still sick, despite his seeming improvement, but this was a very curious condition. The man standing before him had a wild look in his eye, as if an untamed beast lay just beneath the surface of his jolly exterior.
It was as if Sallax were carrying something wicked that was chiselling away at him from within, leaving him half-sane, just a few fragmented and disjointed pieces of Sallax that had been rearranged, twisted about and whitewashed over with a boyish grin and a hearty laugh.
Deciding to wait until he could find a suitable time to discuss her brother’s condition with Brynne, Steven redirected the conversation. ‘Come, let’s get you something to eat,’ he said. ‘I know you’ll enjoy grettan steaks; I’m quite a convert.’
Sallax grinned.
By dawn it had stopped snowing and the air felt a little warmer than of late. Steven discovered a bit of a thaw had left very little in their small but now crowded camp dry; he intended stoking up the fire to dry clothes and blankets before they got underway. Garec and Lahp were already gone, but Sallax and Brynne were still deeply asleep.