Chapter 23

The refugees had set themselves up in family groups in the cavernous building in which they’d taken shelter. Ellerie made her way between them, careful not to step on the few who were still sleeping. The villagers’ mood was subdued after everything they’d been through. Their headman’s death the previous afternoon had just been one more shock added onto all the others, but the plainsmen were a hard people, and they were already organizing the indoor camp for an extended stay. They were in no shape to attempt the journey back to Jol’s Brook yet, and no one knew if more snow beasts were waiting for them along the trail.

Ellerie should have been resting after the mild drain shock she’d suffered during the fight, but she’d slept enough that she’d mostly recovered, and now that she was actually in the ruins of one of the Ancients’ cities, she couldn’t resist looking around.

Before leaving Terevas, she’d visited a few other small ruins that were thought to be Ancient in origin, dotted around the western edge of the nation near the seaborn enclave, but those structures had no distinguishing features. This place, on the other hand, matched what she’d read about other Ancient cities that had been discovered. Many of the buildings had ornate designs carved into the stonework, even if they’d partly faded with time. The structure they were in now was more utilitarian—it seemed to have been something like a warehouse, and the Ancients hadn’t spent any effort decorating it.

Ellerie slipped out through the empty doorway—no doors had survived the millennia of abandonment—and tried to figure out where to go next. The deep snow would make exploration a problem. Other than the courtyard where they’d fought, the entire city was buried. The courtyard seemed like as good a place to start as any.

When she got there, she found Boktar, Gregor, and Nedley working with some of the village men to tie ropes around the shoulders of one of the snow beasts. They paused when they saw her.

“Should you be up?” Boktar asked, quiet concern in his voice.

“I slept as much as I could—I’ll be careful not to cast any spells today. What about your arm?”

“Treya fixed it all up yesterday.”

Ellerie nodded, having expected that answer. After the battle, with the drain shock setting in, she’d had a hard time concentrating on what was going on around her, but Treya wasn’t the sort of person to leave her friends in pain when she could help them. “What are you doing?”

“Hauling these things out into the forest. They’re too damned big to burn or bury, especially with the ground frozen, but we can’t just leave them here.”

“I’m going to look around. Do you want to come?”

He paused for a moment, considering, but he’d been involved in Ellerie’s search for years. It didn’t take him long to decide. “Sure, why not? One more person won’t matter that much. Nedley, you stay here and help.”

“Yes, sir!” the boy said.

“Is there anything we should watch out for?” Ellerie asked Gregor.

“The buildings that are open have already been explored and mapped, so you’ll be safe enough if you’re careful. If you manage to find a way into a building that hasn’t been excavated yet, you shouldn’t go in. Not without more planning.”

“You said there’s a hot spring below the courtyard, right? Should we move the people closer?” A hot bath would be nice—she didn’t even want to think about what she must smell like after the past week.

“Not here. What’s below us are tunnels for moving the water around. If you go... that way, I think,” he said, pointing roughly south, “about half a mile, there’s an old bathhouse that still has a roof. That might be a good spot.”

“We’ll check it out.”

Shavala leaned against one of the partial buildings surrounding the courtyard, watching as the refugees from Jol’s Brook hauled away the last of the snow beasts. Twenty-one of the creatures had died, as had Fergus, and it had all been for nothing. She’d been so eager to see snow beasts for the first time—not even Meritia had come across one before. And now she’d seen them. She’d killed two herself, and helped Sarette to kill more.

She sighed and looked down. What else could they have done?

Sarette’s voice came from beside her. “Katrin said I might find you here.”

Shavala nodded but didn’t reply.

“Thank you for what you did yesterday,” the stormborn woman said. “I could feel it, but I couldn’t do anything. When you called the lightning for me ... that’s the closest I’ve ever come to running a storm. I was right! The warden bond is helping!”

“I’m glad you got what you wanted.” Shavala tried to sound happy for the other woman, but knew she’d failed.

Sarette tilted her head to the side, concern etched on her face. “Are you worried about what happened? Don’t feel bad—it’s hard to control lightning the first time. You managed to keep it from hitting any of us.”

“That’s not it. I underestimated the storm, but people make mistakes all the time. I’ll know better in the future.”

“Then what?”

“Did they have to die? Gregor said they were following their instincts.”

“They’re snow beasts! They killed Fergus!”

“They reminded me of ogres. Ogres aren’t evil, they just think differently than we do. They trade with my people sometimes. They don’t always fight us.”

“Snow beasts kill. If we’re lucky, and they hit one of the ranches, then they’ll stop with the cattle and not move on to the people. Killing is all they do.” Sarette hesitated. “Well, it’s all they do when they come south.”

“What do you mean?”

“They hibernate up north in the summer, near the snowborn. Someone told me they don’t attack the snowborn.”

“So maybe they are like ogres after all, and they just don’t understand that what they’re doing is wrong.”

“That doesn’t mean we can let them invade the Heights!”

“No, you have to defend yourselves,” Shavala agreed. “We had to defend ourselves.” It somehow made her feel better to learn that the beasts weren’t always violent. There must be some logic that allowed them to fit into their natural place in the world, no matter how foreign it might be to her mind.

In the distance, a wolf howled. Shavala had no way of knowing which wolf was calling out, but she liked the idea that it was her friendly visitor. Life would go on. Not for everyone, but for most.

“That’ll be a mark for the night and a penny for each meal,” the dwarven innkeeper said. “You want the nooning?”

“What is nooning?” Leena asked, having a hard time following the man’s speech even though he was speaking trade tongue. She already knew that mark and penny were their terms for silver and copper coins, after having stopped at a shop to purchase supplies when she’d first arrived in the small town.

The man glared up at her. “The nooning! Nooning meal!”

“Oh, no thank you. I’ve already had it.” She’d taken to eating before Traveling, in case she ended up in another unexpected situation. “Can you look at my map and tell me where I am?”

The dwarf waved his hands in irritation. “Fine, fine. Show me.” He was the least friendly innkeeper she’d ever met.

Unlike elves, she was used to dwarves. Sanvar was a human nation built over the top of three lizardfolk kingdoms and numerous dwarven settlements. The result had been centuries of war between the three races, the last one ending when she was still a child. The dwarves she’d encountered in her home town of Matihar generally eyed her with distrust, except for the few who frequented the bakery she worked at. Here in Stone Home, the dwarves were different. The children playing in the streets had watched her curiously, while the adults walking past had politely ignored her. The shopkeepers had been friendly and welcoming so far.

The innkeeper was an exception to that, but she didn’t think it was because she was human. He’d been screaming at his dwarven customers in their own language when she’d first entered. They’d ignored his ranting.

Leena unrolled the new map she’d bought in South Corner, laying it out on the bar. Unfortunately, the map didn’t show anything south of Stone Home, and Stone Home itself was just shown as an outline, without any distinguishing features or towns.

The innkeeper frowned as he looked over it. “Here,” he said, stabbing a spot with his thumb. “Rakovar. Map’s wrong. It doesn’t show all of Stone Home.”

“How far south does it go? I’m heading that way.”

“Then you’ve got a long trip ahead. South border’s another four hundred miles. Here,” he said, and grabbed the knife he’d been using to slice a roast for his patrons. He held the map still, and extended it by carving marks directly into the wooden bar top. “There. That’s Stone Home. Stick to the road. Don’t go west, that’s the Stone Top Mountains, then Terevas. East is ogre territory.”

“What about Sanvar? Can you tell me how far away Sanvar is?”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s another thousand miles south of the border.”

Leena sighed. It would still take her weeks to get back home then, through lands she only vaguely remembered from her Traveler training. Geography had never been her strongest subject. Just how far had she teleported, to get all the way from Matihar to Telfort? She should have asked Sarlo more questions while he’d been around.

“Thank you,” she said to the dwarf.

He stalked off without acknowledging her, already haranguing another group of customers who were eating in the common room.

Leena rolled up the map and stuffed it back in the small pack she’d purchased in South Corner, then went to find her room.

A nap before supper would be good—she was still tired from the jump she’d made earlier. She stripped off her dress and climbed into the bed, which turned out to be dwarven in size. Even with her head pressed up against the headboard, her feet still dangled over the edge. She turned on her side and curled up instead, trying to get comfortable.

Unfortunately, her nap wasn’t restful, ending with a nightmare where the men who’d attacked her in Matihar had returned, chasing her to the bakery where she’d once worked. As nightmares often go, she’d run and she’d run, but she’d known all along that once she reached the bakery, they would catch her.

She woke with a gasp just as they found her hiding in the bakery’s storeroom. Even after realizing it had been a dream, she felt a vague sense of disorientation. The room was startlingly warm and completely dark, and the bed was much harder than she remembered it being. She must have slept all afternoon if there was no light coming in through the window. It was so dark, she couldn’t even see the window.

She threw the sheet and blanket to the side, trying to cool down, then sat up and stretched. The sweet smell of fresh-baked bread permeated the room. If the innkeeper had a decent baker, perhaps that was how he managed to keep his clientele despite his attitude. Strangely, she thought she heard people in the streets calling out to each other in Sanvari.

She’d just shaken that thought off, deciding it must be a memory left over from the dream, when someone threw open the door, allowing daylight to flood in.

“Leena!” came a familiar shriek. “What are you doing here?” the voice continued in Sanvari. “Sleeping on the floor in the middle of the day! Where have you been all this time? Where are your clothes? Are those tattoos?”

“Sanja?” Leena asked, using her forearm to shield the sunlight from her eyes. “Is that you? Where am I?”

Was she still dreaming? She was sitting on the floor of the bakery’s storeroom back in Matihar, dressed only in her undergarments, surrounded by the bedding from the inn in Stone Home.

She’d just realized it wasn’t a dream when a man’s voice called out. “Sanja! What’s going on?” It was Madi, Sanja’s husband—the owner of the shop.

Leena was home! She’d Traveled in her sleep, but she’d somehow made it safely!

“Don’t let Madi see me like this!” she pleaded, gathering the sheets up and draping them over herself. The dwarven innkeeper would be mad when he discovered she’d stolen them, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was actually home!

“Where are your clothes?” Sanja whispered.