eyelashes. Ember lost his footing and staggered hard beneath me, pitching me onto his neck. He caught himself from falling, but came up lame, lurching every time he put weight on his left foreleg.
I slipped from the saddle and leant my face against his ice-crusted neck in despair. With an effort, I pushed myself away and set about trying to unbuckle the straps that lashed Coal’s load to his back.
It was impossible. The straps were stiff and frozen, and my fingers were so numb I couldn’t get any purchase.
So I did the only thing I could think to do. I took up Ember’s reins and began trudging on foot, the horses trailing behind me.
How long I walked, I could not say. It felt like an eternity. The storm was like a mighty hand shoving me from behind. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, convinced that if I stopped moving, I would die.
I don’t doubt that it was true. Allowing my gift to be used in an unwise manner, I’d come close to dying before, but I never felt anything that sapped my will to live the way that bitter, cold wind did. Would that I could say it was hope that kept me going, but no such thing existed in that raging darkness. It was the irrational spark of anger I harbored toward Bao, the sense that this was all his fault, that gave me the will to keep taking one step, then another, long after my legs had begun to feel leaden.
Head down, I trudged blindly—trudged, and trudged, and trudged. Until I bumped into something large.
I went still.
The large thing bumped me back—
several
large things. A choked sound of fear died in my throat. There were large figures looming in the darkness, and yet I sensed a benign intent. I rubbed the frost from my eyelashes and squinted.
Cattle.
I was surrounded by cattle—big, shaggy cattle with short, curved horns and lambent eyes rimed with frost. They bumped, jostled, and nudged me and my horses, herding us forward, a dim sense of concern in their thoughts. And then, ah, gods!
There was a wall, a stone wall that blocked the worst of the blizzard’s knifing wind. I’d never been so glad to see a man-made wall in my life.
If there was a wall, doubtless there were humans nearby, but I couldn’t make out any of the Tatars’ felt domiciles in the storm; and the cattle were insistent, nudging me into the lee of the wall. I let go of Ember’s reins and slid down the wall in relief, resting my back against the rough stone and huddling into my coat.
With low groans, two of the cattle sank down on either side of me, pressing flanks and haunches against me. Their concerned thoughts gave way to complacent, bovine ones. Within minutes, I could feel the warmth of their shaggy hides penetrating my clothing.
I laughed, and wept tears that froze on my cheeks. “Thank you,” I whispered—to the cattle, to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, to the D’Angeline pantheon, to the Tatar gods, and to stone and sea and sky and all that they encompassed. “Thank you.”
SEVEN
I mpossible as it may seem, I fell asleep amid the cattle.
I was tired beyond exhaustion, as tired in spirit as though I’d been drained almost to death, and as tired in body as though I’d climbed White Jade Mountain all over again. The presence of the cattle was warm and soothing, and the stone wall blocked the worst of the storm. There was nothing I could do for my horses until the storm passed.
And so I closed my weary eyes, thinking only to rest them a moment, and fell into a black pit of unconsciousness.
I awoke to a startled shout.
I opened my eyes to find calm morning light, and one of the young Tatar herdsmen staring at me. He loosed another shout when I opened my eyes, gripping his herder’s staff with both hands. The dog beside him planted its haunches on the frozen ground and wagged its tail, bright-eyed, its tongue lolling.
I shouted too, scrambling to my feet. The cattle on either side of me heaved themselves upright in their ungainly, rear-end-first
I slipped from the saddle and leant my face against his ice-crusted neck in despair. With an effort, I pushed myself away and set about trying to unbuckle the straps that lashed Coal’s load to his back.
It was impossible. The straps were stiff and frozen, and my fingers were so numb I couldn’t get any purchase.
So I did the only thing I could think to do. I took up Ember’s reins and began trudging on foot, the horses trailing behind me.
How long I walked, I could not say. It felt like an eternity. The storm was like a mighty hand shoving me from behind. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, convinced that if I stopped moving, I would die.
I don’t doubt that it was true. Allowing my gift to be used in an unwise manner, I’d come close to dying before, but I never felt anything that sapped my will to live the way that bitter, cold wind did. Would that I could say it was hope that kept me going, but no such thing existed in that raging darkness. It was the irrational spark of anger I harbored toward Bao, the sense that this was all his fault, that gave me the will to keep taking one step, then another, long after my legs had begun to feel leaden.
Head down, I trudged blindly—trudged, and trudged, and trudged. Until I bumped into something large.
I went still.
The large thing bumped me back—
several
large things. A choked sound of fear died in my throat. There were large figures looming in the darkness, and yet I sensed a benign intent. I rubbed the frost from my eyelashes and squinted.
Cattle.
I was surrounded by cattle—big, shaggy cattle with short, curved horns and lambent eyes rimed with frost. They bumped, jostled, and nudged me and my horses, herding us forward, a dim sense of concern in their thoughts. And then, ah, gods!
There was a wall, a stone wall that blocked the worst of the blizzard’s knifing wind. I’d never been so glad to see a man-made wall in my life.
If there was a wall, doubtless there were humans nearby, but I couldn’t make out any of the Tatars’ felt domiciles in the storm; and the cattle were insistent, nudging me into the lee of the wall. I let go of Ember’s reins and slid down the wall in relief, resting my back against the rough stone and huddling into my coat.
With low groans, two of the cattle sank down on either side of me, pressing flanks and haunches against me. Their concerned thoughts gave way to complacent, bovine ones. Within minutes, I could feel the warmth of their shaggy hides penetrating my clothing.
I laughed, and wept tears that froze on my cheeks. “Thank you,” I whispered—to the cattle, to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, to the D’Angeline pantheon, to the Tatar gods, and to stone and sea and sky and all that they encompassed. “Thank you.”
SEVEN
I mpossible as it may seem, I fell asleep amid the cattle.
I was tired beyond exhaustion, as tired in spirit as though I’d been drained almost to death, and as tired in body as though I’d climbed White Jade Mountain all over again. The presence of the cattle was warm and soothing, and the stone wall blocked the worst of the storm. There was nothing I could do for my horses until the storm passed.
And so I closed my weary eyes, thinking only to rest them a moment, and fell into a black pit of unconsciousness.
I awoke to a startled shout.
I opened my eyes to find calm morning light, and one of the young Tatar herdsmen staring at me. He loosed another shout when I opened my eyes, gripping his herder’s staff with both hands. The dog beside him planted its haunches on the frozen ground and wagged its tail, bright-eyed, its tongue lolling.
I shouted too, scrambling to my feet. The cattle on either side of me heaved themselves upright in their ungainly, rear-end-first
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