A Play of Shadow (27 page)

“I’ll let him know,” Jenn promised, gathering the dishes.

“Leave those, Good Heart,” Zehr told her. “You go help Bannan and your sister. I’m sure they’ll be making plans where the boys will stay, and Tir.”

“Perhaps you should be part of those plans, Jenn Nalynn,” suggested Gallie, eyes atwinkle. “After all, a bed shared is a warmer one.”

Oh, and didn’t her cheeks flame at that? Jenn muttered something incoherent, which made Gallie laugh again, but kindly, and ran to bundle up for the trip to the Nalynns’ very full house.

Once outside, her breath hanging in the air like a cloud, Jenn stopped to admire the storm’s handiwork. For under a sky of brilliant blue, Marrowdell was now white.

Glistening snow pillowed rooftops and clung like frosting to windowsills and logs. It lay in sharp-edged drifts that curled between buildings and hedgerow, here waist-high, there up to her chin. The wind had scoured to the turf in places, but never in a useful path. They’d be shoveling for days.

The river had vanished beneath lapped scales of white, as if a giant snake lay along the valley floor. Beyond, the fields were full of odd shapes and lumps. Efflet sculpted the snow, Wisp had told her, not the wind. She couldn’t wait to take a closer look.

First, to Bannan. Jenn began pushing through the snow.

The snow pushed back. Or something under it.

She stopped and tilted her head, considering the matter. “Fair morning.”

A long, slender mass of snow rose abruptly to hang in midair. Jenn narrowed her eyes. “Wisp?” More snow lifted in answer, this time in the shape of spread wings. “It is you! I’ve been so worried—”

“I’ve a way to warm myself, Dearest Heart.” The little breeze sounded decidedly smug.

He’d recovered, that meant, and she wasn’t to fuss, but finding her dragon encased in ice was, Jenn thought with an inward shudder, something she’d never forget. “I’m glad. You were very brave, Wisp, to save the boys and Tir. But how did you know?”

“I didn’t.” He shook, and snow flew in all directions. If not for the impression made by his body, she might be alone. “The sei sent me. Into the storm.” A snarl. “Beyond the edge.”

Brave indeed. “Come with me,” she asked impulsively. “Bannan will want to know what you found.” It wasn’t as if Wisp hadn’t been in the Nalynn home before.

Though then, he’d been a man, and Wyll.

“I’ll come with you. I’ll stay with you.” The breeze lifted snow and spun it. “Here is the best place to be, Dearest Heart, and to stay.”

As if they played in the meadow. As if nothing was wrong. Which made her suddenly certain something was and this wasn’t play at all. “Wisp. What happened out there?”

Snow became one column, then two. “Horses died and men died,” the breeze told her airily. The columns touched at their tops then collapsed. “I did not.”

But he might have. She’d seen it. Had not Scourge dragged him back to the edge, and to her? He’d never have left the boys and Tir. He’d have frozen with them. “The sei shouldn’t have sent you,” Jenn said, trying her best not to be angry, but she was. “I don’t understand why it didn’t ask me—”

A clump of snow landed with a wet smack, right on her nose. She staggered back and almost fell. The breeze chuckled. “Because only a dragon could have saved them, Dearest Heart, and only I would have tried.”

Well, yes, there was that. Jenn stealthily gathered up a handful of snow and formed it into a ball, then launched it where she thought he might be.

The ball swerved in midair. It made a glorious arc over the Nalynn roof and sleeping roses, disappearing beyond.

A surprised shout followed.

Jenn covered her mouth with a mitten hand, stifling a laugh.

Another ball of snow rose over the roof, coming this way! Though well thrown, it hadn’t a chance against a playful dragon. The ball stopped midair, then flew back.

A second shout, this time more outraged than surprised.

Jenn hurried through the snow, taking shelter beneath the rosebushes. As she armed herself with more snowballs, the air above filled with them. Some blew apart into tiny blizzards. Some were sent flying back, faster than they’d come. A few disappeared as if swallowed. Which was hardly fair, no matter who was on the other side of the house. She began to throw her own. “Take that, Wisp!”

Though she hadn’t made a wish, snowballs formed themselves all around her, soaring through the air with hers to converge on one spot, near the hedge. A shape fought free and, with a roar she felt in her bones, the dragon took to the air, shedding snow as he flew.

Jenn dusted off her mittens. “We won!” she told the snow around her, certain she wasn’t alone. She got to her feet, freeing her scarf from a thorn, and turned.

To meet a snowball.

Jenn blinked snow to find Bannan, so caked himself in white he might have been one of the efflets’ sculptures. Only his eyes showed, and they were full of mischief. He had, she realized belatedly, more snowballs.

With a ringing whoop of battle, Jenn launched herself before he could throw another, toppling him into the snow. Which might have worked, but he wrapped his long arms around her and rolled them both until they were more snow than person, and laughing so hard it was impossible to catch a full breath.

When finally they paused, wrapped in each other, Jenn freed her hand to wipe snow from his dear face. “You do realize,” she said cheerfully, nose-to-nose, “Wisp started it.”

“Thought as much.” Bannan’s eyes sparkled. “He’s in a good mood.”

“He’s glad to be home.” Despite the layers of coats and cloaks and whatever else between them, Jenn decided she quite liked snuggling in the snow and would have been glad herself to stay like this, assuming no one walked by to see them.

“As am I, Dearest Heart,” Bannan said, giving her a cold, wet, and thoroughly pleasant kiss. Then he jumped to his feet, offering his hand. “Sennic’s sure the weather will hold for the morning, so we’re off to fetch Lila’s supplies.”

Jenn took his hand to pull herself up. “It will hold here,” she assured him.

A smile that warmed her heart. “Many thanks. And I ask another kindness, Jenn, much harder to accomplish.”

She waited.

“Sit on Tir for me.” Bannan shook his head. “I caught him trying to find boots. Ancestors Dutiful and Dazed, the man has more heart than sense. He hasn’t said as much, but I know him. Now that I’ve the boys, he thinks to return to your lady aunt.”

“He’ll have to heal first,” Jenn pointed out. “By then, even Tir will see why no one travels once winter takes hold.”

They’d begun walking around the house. The truthseer paused to kick at a drift, and gave her a wondering look. “Worse than this?”

By the Midwinter Beholding, the village would shrink from wide fields and open roads, to narrow shoveled paths connecting the fountain to homes and outbuildings. Houses would be buried, marked by holes at doorways and windows, with steps cut into the snow packed on roofs in order to reach and clear the chimneys.

Which was handy for making slides, too. Winter had its joys; children knew where to find them. How many would be new to Semyn and Werfol?

Thoughts full of what was to come, Jenn settled for, “You’ll see.”

When they came around the house, Davi was there, busy checking the runners on what had been the village cart and was now its sled. Battle and Brawl tossed their big heads, ringing the bells attached to their halters. Pretty, the bells, and Jenn loved them.

The only guide in the dark or storm, those bells, should horse or villager become separated.

Not today. Today was beautiful and clear; though Jenn didn’t make a wish yet, she intended it stay that way till all were safely home.

Anten and Kydd were there, already mounted, with Tadd just arrived, leading his horse and Perrkin, who must be for Bannan, though she’d have expected Scourge. Tools and shovels had been loaded onto the sled, along with packs and firewood. Precaution before prevents regret later, Jenn remembered Aunt Sybb telling her and her sister, though she’d been referring to moon potion and womanly cycles, not being stranded overnight in the cold.

The packs would have contained moon potion, had Cynd been going. The older women had resumed its use, after Gallie’s unexpected pregnancy. Jenn glanced toward the Treffs’ house, knowing where Cynd would be and why.

The door opened and Radd stuck his head out, asking calmly. “Is the blizzard over?”

As the others laughed, Jenn noticed what she’d missed before. Ten paces from the Nalynn doorway the snow was marked only by footprints. Within that boundary, dozens of spent snowballs lay in tidy rows, for all the world like potatoes waiting to be planted.

Wisp.

An interesting winter lay ahead, if her dragon chose to play in it. It might be wise to establish a few rules.

She smiled to herself. Or not.

Marrowdell was in fine spirits this morning, with the storm passed and adventure in the offing. That the adventure would involve hard work—the snow doubtless having buried the boxes and the wagon, from Tir’s unsettling description, having toppled on its side—didn’t appear to matter to those who’d volunteered.

What did matter was the promise of supplies. Though none said it and none ever would, Bannan knew what had been careful rationing before would have been dangerously tight with Tir and the boys added. He’d sleep better.

Once they were back.

First things first. “I’ll check on the boys,” he told Jenn.

“Shall I come with you? We haven’t been introduced.” With an anxious frown.

“They’ll love you,” he assured her, kissing her nose. “As much as I do—”

“Ancestors Late and Laggard!” Davi cursed loudly. “Are we going today or not?” He climbed into the sled and took the reins, face creased in an unfamiliar scowl.

A man beset with troubles, giving his time. “Your pardon,” Bannan said quickly. “Start on your way. I’ll be right behind.” He waved at Tadd to wait with Perrkin, then gave Jenn an apologetic smile.

“Go,” she told him, smiling back. “I’ll introduce myself after I change.”

The village echoing the sound of bells and hooves crunching snow, Bannan hurried to the Nalynn home. Radd, about to leave, stopped him at the door, chuckling. “Your pockets?”

Puzzled, Bannan reached into one, finding it full of snow. As were the rest of his pockets and the tops of his boots. Taking off his coat to give it a shake, he discovered a great lump in the hood, sure to melt down his neck. “I’ve a great deal to learn about snow,” he said ruefully as he stepped inside.

The miller laughed as he closed the door behind him. “You’ll get plenty of practice here.”

Tir had moved to a chair at the family table, his mask back in place. He grimaced at Bannan, nodding at the food before him. “Unfair tactics, sir,” he complained.

A bowl of thick rich soup. Half a loaf, already buttered. Pie, steaming from the oven. Peggs’ doing, this was. The truthseer managed to keep a straight face. “Impossible odds,” he agreed. “Just as well you’ve orders to stay off your feet as much as possible.”

Tir gestured with his eating knife. “Ancestors Fattened and Filled,” he said with mock gloom. “Suppose it’s doing m’duty, sir.” Bright blue eyes looked sidelong at Bannan. “You’re off, then?”

“Once I speak to the boys.”

“Brave as any soldier, the pair o’them.” As if embarrassed, Tir traded his knife for a spoon, then tapped his mask. “M’lady’s doing.” He slipped up the lower portion before pouring in soup. Another glance. “The lads won’t want you to leave, sir, not so soon.”

Bannan felt weight settle around his heart. “It’s necessary. You know why.”

“Aie.” Tir paused, a frown furrowing the scars on his forehead. “Can’t promise the wild things haven’t already done their work. We heard howling, sir, most o’the way.”

“Then I’d best not dawdle,” the truthseer said lightly.

“Sir.” Almost a protest. “They were strangers.”

“Perhaps not to me.” Bannan rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder and bent to speak in his ear. “I’ll waste no chance to learn who came after you.” He straightened. “Mind you listen to the healer. Peggs isn’t the only Nalynn keeping an eye on you.”

He took Tir’s resumed interest in his hearty meal for assent.

The boys were in the kitchen, standing shoulder to shoulder at the worktable. Semyn, his lower lip between his teeth, was cutting carrots while his younger brother lined the pieces back up as if they were a puzzle to solve. Over their heads, Peggs gave Bannan a dazzling smile. “Your uncle’s back,” she told the boys. “They’ve been excellent helpers,” to Bannan. A second look and she pulled out a cloth to hand him, miming rubbing his head.

Bannan reached up to discover his hair was indeed soaking wet. “I was playing in the snow,” he explained and almost mentioned the dragon.

Not yet. He dried his hair, using the moment to study the small and solemn faces aimed up at him, noting with dismay the pallor in once-rosy cheeks and purple bruises beneath their eyes. Tense, the pair, and ready to bolt. Despite being here with Peggs, in the most homely house imaginable, they were still afraid.

Heart’s Blood. Shaken, the truthseer returned the towel with a small bow and deliberately easy smile. “I won’t be long,” he promised. “I’ll play with you this afternoon.”