‘And why is it you want to go to Koldihrve?’ she asked. ‘Not too many friends of your Blood there, you know.’
‘To find a boat. That was Inurian’s idea, anyway...’ He paused.
‘But not yours, apparently,’ Yvane murmured.
Orisian gave a small, uncertain shrug. He felt he was being almost disloyal to Inurian by even doubting his instructions.
‘I am . . . unsure,’ he said. ‘At first I thought we could head straight for Glasbridge, or Sirian’s Dyke, in the valley. But Inurian and Ess’yr and Varryn seemed certain we would not have reached them.’
Yvane prodded the faltering fire with a stick, stirring its embers back into bright life.
‘I don’t suppose you would, then. If even a Fox with the three-fold kin’thyn feels it wiser to fly up here, chances are pretty good you’d be dead if you’d not followed. There’s not many of them amongst the Fox, you know; bearers of the threefold patterns, I mean. The Fox has never been a big clan anyway, of course...’
‘Well, we can’t stay here,’ Anyara interrupted.
The na’kyrim fixed her with a sharp gaze, arching one of her eye-brows in a pointed gesture of displeasure.
‘I mean,’ Anyara persisted, ‘that if we cannot get back to Glasbridge overland, it sounds to me as though we have no choice but to press on to Koldihrve and try to find a boat.’
‘Mind sharp as a needle, that one,’ Yvane muttered to herself, and returned her attention to the fire.
Anyara glared at their host. Orisian willed her to hold her tongue.
‘Inurian tried to get me involved once already,’ Yvane said unexpectedly. She might have still been talking to herself. ‘He wanted me to ... do something about this Aeglyss. Perhaps that’s why he sent you up here. It’s not as if you really need my help to get to Koldihrve, after all, when you’ve got those two Fox nursemaiding you.’
‘Aeglyss?’ exclaimed Anyara in surprise. ‘You’ve spoken to Inurian about him?’
Yvane nodded. ‘While he was in Anduran. I took a look at Aeglyss myself. It wasn’t the best of ideas; if he had the skill to match his raw strength . . . anyway, I’ve still got an ache in my head I can’t shake off.’
‘Well, Aeglyss is the one pursuing us. Or one of them, at least,’ Orisian said. ‘Even if he didn’t kill Inurian with his own hands, it was partly his doing.’
Yvane gave a non-committal grunt. ‘Inurian didn’t say anything about taking care of his waifs and strays. He wanted me to give Highfast a prod, that’s all. Get them to take care of Aeglyss.’
‘I thought Highfast was a fortress,’ said Anyara.
‘It is,’ Yvane replied. ‘Never been taken in battle they always say, and I imagine it’s true enough. Kyrinin besieged it during the War of the Tainted, and your own kind in the Storm Years, and again in the Black Road wars. Came through it all well enough. There’s more to it than that, though; what warriors are left there are more for show than anything. The very first Kilkry Thane gave it to some na’kyrim who were looking for a place to hide away and they’re hiding there still, or their successors are, at least. It’s not much of a secret, but there’s probably more don’t know it than do.’
She sighed heavily. ‘Some good people there, but not as many answers as they like to think. They’ve grown as musty as the books they guard, and half of what they chatter about makes no more sense than the croaking of their crows. It takes a certain temperament to shut yourself up with so many words and so much learning. Neither Inurian nor I ever quite had the mettle for it. A shame, in a way. For those who can settle there it is very . . . soothing.’
‘And Inurian thought they’re the ones to deal with Aeglyss?’ asked Orisian.
‘Inurian always had a tendency to assume the best about people: I suspect he thought the Highfast folk would help sort out whatever mess Aeglyss is creating just because he’s a na’kyrim like them. He evidently believed this Aeglyss is—or could be—a remarkable young man, gifted with exceptional talents.’
Anyara growled some comment on that, but kept it low enough to avoid Yvane’s attention.
‘If Inurian was right,’ Yvane continued, ‘then it may be that only the kind of na’kyrim who dwell in Highfast are capable of standing against him.’ Her eyes glazed over, her voice drifted, following her thoughts down some distracting track. ‘Or Dyrkyrnon ... he did say he might have lived there, didn’t he?’ She hung her head.
‘Dyrkynon?’ Orisian asked.
Yvane looked up, seeming surprised that she was not alone.
‘Dyrkyrnon,’ she corrected him. ‘Yes. Another hideaway for my kind. It’s not the same kind of place as Highfast, though. There’s na’kyrim and there’s na’kyrim. The ones at Dyrkyrnon can be less friendly than a bear with a thorn in its foot when the mood takes them.’
There was a moment’s quiet. Anyara’s face betrayed her impatience.
‘Even if you just point us in the right direction . . .’ she began, only to be cut off by Yvane’s raucous clearing of her throat.
‘Excuse me,’ the na’kyrim said. ‘The wet and cold up here lie heavy upon my chest sometimes. Especially when I’m thinking.’
They lapsed into a tense silence. Orisian and Anyara glanced uneasily at one another.
‘Did he still have that crow? What happened to it?’ asked Yvane. Idrin,’ said Orisian. ‘He sent him away. Told him to go home, I think.’
Yvane nodded as if Orisian had confirmed something she already knew. ‘Then they will know by now, at Highfast, that he is dead.’
She was deep in thought for long moments, and neither Orisian nor Anyara dared to disturb her. Orisian’s eyes wandered, drifting over the uneven surface of the walls. He gazed at the figures painted there: animals and people delineated with simple, broad strokes. It was crude work, but suited to this flrelit setting. It might have come from an ancient, unformed world.
‘Do you know about the Sky Pilgrims?’ Yvane asked him.
‘I’ve never heard of them,’ Orisian said.
‘Ah, there’s no finer example of the rock-headed foolishness of your race. You know, at least, the story that one of the First Race’s crimes against the Gods was supposed to be stealing fire from the roof of the world? Well, in the very early years of the Kingships there were those who thought they could persuade the Gods to return by repeating that journey in penance. They were the Sky Pilgrims. Dozens of them marched through here on their way to the Tan Dihrin. It was not a belief that prospered; hardly a surprise given that most of its followers must have met rather miserable deaths.’
‘And they made these drawings on their way there,’ Orisian said.
‘I think so. I can’t make much sense of them, but then sense was not the most prominent of the Sky Pilgrims’ qualities.’
‘You should not speak so harshly of the dead,’ muttered Anyara. ‘I’m sure they were only doing what they thought was right.’
To Orisian’s surprise, that made Yvane hesitate.
‘Perhaps they were,’ she said. ‘Inurian’s rubbed off on you, I see. He often scolded me for being too impatient of Huanin—and Kyrinin—failings. Told me I should wait until I had rid myself of every flaw before going around picking at everyone else’s.’ She smiled distantly, as if pleased by the memory.
Rothe came bursting into the chamber then. He brought snowflakes with him, and the cold of the outside world that Orisian had almost forgotten existed. The shieldman had a grave expression.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘I think I saw someone. Younger eyes might be better than mine.’
Orisian and Anyara followed him. Yvane did not move from her fireside place, silently stirring the ashes as the fire began to falter. Every step down the short passageway brought the sound of the wind closer. When they emerged on to the dais of rock outside it was to find the sky obscured by flat and featureless grey clouds, the air filled with wind-blown snow. Mists and fogs were seething around the ridges to the south and west. Orisian raised a hand to shield his face.