The Whitefire Crossing (7 page)

I ducked back under the tarp. “Hey. Storm’s over.”

Kiran raised his head, and I sucked in my breath, shocked. His face was bloodless, with shadows dark as coal dust under his eyes. His pupils were dilated so wide his eyes looked black in the low light, and his teeth were clenched so hard his jaw muscles stood out in ridges.

“Damn, kid, are you all right?” I reached for him. He jerked and scrambled backward as if I’d threatened to stab him.

“Don’t touch me!” For the first time, he really sounded like a highsider, his voice full of arrogant command. But the impression was marred by the way the whites of his eyes showed, which made him look more like a trapped animal. I spread both my hands, palms out.

“Okay, okay, just calm—”

He jumped up and raced outside before I could finish. A pair of drovers crossed his path, and Kiran jinked sideways so hard he bounced off a wagon and tumbled head over heels. One drover called something to him, but Kiran only scrambled to his feet and took off again. He dodged between the wagons and disappeared down the slope toward the catsclaw thickets. The drovers stared after him with their mouths hanging open.

Well, shit. So much for staying unnoticed. What in the name of Khalmet was wrong with him? I sprang to my feet, then hesitated. If I went running straight after him, there’d only be more talk. No, I should delay a little, then ease over to the catsclaw and try and find him before it got dark, if he hadn’t already come to his senses and returned to the convoy. At least he couldn’t get truly lost in this kind of terrain—there was no place to go. But if he tripped over a catsclaw root in a blind panic and bashed his fool head in, I could kiss my promised payment goodbye.

I headed for the wagon. Cara and Jerik were already at work, unlacing knots and checking supplies. Cara cocked an eyebrow at me. “The kid’s faster than he looks. Needs to learn some manners, though.”

“City boy.” I tried to sound disgusted instead of stunned and pissed off. “The storm scared the shit out of him. Literally.”

Cara snorted. “Some apprentice you’ve got there. Sure you didn’t bring him along just for some fun in bed?” I made a face and reached for a knot, but she stopped me. “Forget helping with the wagon. I want you to scout before the light fails. If rockfall hit the trail ahead, I’d rather Meldon knew it tonight, instead of waiting ’til a morning scout.”

I swallowed a protest. I knew why Cara wanted me to go. Of the three of us, I was by far the fastest climber, especially on an untested route. To have a sightline all the way up the canyon, I’d need to climb a spire on one of the knife-edged rock ribs extending down from the heights. But gods all damn it, from the height of the ridge, even if I hurried I’d barely make it back to the convoy before nightfall. So much for my plans to track down Kiran. I cursed silently as I pictured myself fighting through catsclaw in the dark. He’d better have calmed down and come back by the time I finished.

“You worried about the kid? Don’t be. Jerik and I will keep an eye out for him.” Cara’s blue eyes held a little too much curiosity for my liking.

“I promised his family I’d keep him safe, is all,” I muttered, grabbing the supply crate that contained the pitons. Ordinarily I’d downclimb rather than set an anchor and rappel from the ridge—there’s no challenge in rappelling—but a rappel would get me back to the convoy that much faster.

Jerik barked out a laugh from the opposite end of the wagon. “Safe? As an outrider?” His voice was low and gravelly, probably from disuse. Prying conversation out of him was like chipping holds in granite.

“Not every apprentice decides to stick with the trade,” I said. Which was true enough; some would-be outriders changed their minds quick after their first close call in the mountains. A perfect excuse for my sudden lack of an apprentice, once we reached Kost.

I threw a set of pitons, a hammer, a hemp rope, my climbing boots, and a waterskin into a pack. “Bet you I make it back before Harken shares out dinner.” At least I’d have a chance of spotting Kiran from the ridge, unless he’d worked his way too deeply into the thickets.

Cara surveyed the ridge, then grinned. “You’re on. One free drink in Kost if you make it back before dinner, two free drinks if you make it back before we finish taking care of the horses.”

I flicked my fingers in the old streetside gesture used to seal a bargain, shouldered my pack, and raced off, leaping from rock to rock up the steep slope above the trail. My breath came fast and hard by the time I’d scrambled up the boulders to the base of the ridge. I stopped to let my heart slow before starting the climb. Plenty of small ledges and flakes studded the mica-flecked rock in front of me, and I judged the route well within my ability to climb without protection. But Sethan had long ago hammered into my head that it only takes one instant of carelessness or overconfidence to kill a climber.

I braced my back against the rock to put on my climbing boots, careful of the sharp iron nails protruding from their soles. The vivid pink of the western sky was edging toward paler violet, but an hour or so remained before the light grew too dim for contrast. From my vantage point I had an excellent view of the long line of the convoy, and below the trail, the thick tangle of catsclaw. I scanned the head-high bushes as I laced my boots, searching for Kiran, or at least some signs of his passage. But catsclaw was tough and resilient, its interlocking branches difficult to bend and nearly impossible to break, and I couldn’t spot any trace of him.

I was about to give up and start the climb when something else caught my eye. A drover, approaching the outrider wagon with a casual stride. And damn it, though I was too far away to make out facial features, from the man’s height and coloring I was sure it was Pello.

He sauntered up to Harken and Jerik, waving a friendly greeting. The two men paused in the act of unloading a grain sack, and Cara’s blonde head turned, though she didn’t stop currying her horse. Their conversation was lost in the indistinct hum of voices floating up from the convoy, but Harken pointed up in my direction. I clenched my teeth. Pello was sure to find out Kiran had run off alone. Oh, this got better by the minute.

Sudden and unwelcome as rockfall, memories of Jylla overwhelmed me. She’d always been the one clever with people and plans, even back when we were a pair of desperate, angry kids just past our Change. If she were in my place, she’d outfox Pello without even trying.
Dealing with people’s no different than Tainting a mage ward,
she’d told me once. We’d been lying sprawled in a tangle of sheets, her slender fingers tracing lazily down my spine.
Find their weak spot, and push them the way you want.

Yeah, just like she’d pushed me. How could I have been so dumb as to think she saw me any different? I spat and banished the image of Jylla’s golden curves and teasing eyes. I might not have her cunning, but I’d never yet failed on a job. Shadow man or no, Pello wouldn’t keep me from earning my pay.

Still no sign of Kiran in the catsclaw. This time I felt only relief. I turned back to the rock and flattened my hands on the stone. Shoving all my worries away, I concentrated on the gritty texture under my palms until nothing else existed. Then I moved, stepping smoothly up onto the rock while my fingers searched out ledges.

For a glorious interval, the entire world consisted of me and the cliff. My body flowed up the rock, every muscle perfectly under my command, my mind locked in absolute focus on each succeeding set of holds. When I reached the ridgetop and wedged myself into position straddling a block of stone, my grin stretched nearly as wide as Bren’s. My nerves sang, and the stark beauty of the surrounding ridgelines and snowcapped peaks made my heart swell. The satisfaction deep inside was almost—not quite, but almost—as good as my childhood memories of my lost Taint.

My exhilaration faded at the thought. I surveyed the terrain ahead, recalled to duty. My perch gave me a hawks-eye view of the upper reaches of the canyon, all the way up to the edge of the wide basin below the pass. I traced the pale line of the trail. About a mile upcanyon from my ridge, a pile of freshly fallen boulders blocked the path. Some of them were big, too, wagon-sized or more.

I set about hammering pitons into cracks in the rock to anchor my rappel, unwelcome thoughts of Pello and Kiran creeping back into my mind. When I leaned out to throw the rope down, I stopped short. The catsclaw thickets below the convoy now lay deep in shadow, but a few circular patches appeared unnaturally dark, as if the bushes themselves had turned black. I squinted, trying to make them out, but the light was fading fast. I gave up and reached for the rope. I’d have another chance to take a look when we bashed our way through the catsclaw for water in the morning.

By the time I returned to the outrider wagon, twilight was giving way to darkness. The storm still blotted out the eastern sky, far enough away now that only silent sourceless flashes lit the horizon. Overhead, the first stars glimmered amidst stray wisps of cloud. Cara straightened up from lighting a candle lantern and clapped her hands, slowly. “Well, you win one drink, at least. Harken and Jerik are about to dig out our dinner rations.”

“You’ll want to talk to Meldon. I spotted major rockfall on the trail, about a mile up. Probably a full morning’s work to clear.” I shrugged out of my pack and tried not to be too obvious about looking around for Kiran.

“Figures, after that little show we had during the storm.” Cara glanced across the canyon to the lightning-struck pinnacle, a sharp black outline against the darkening sky. We squatted down together next to the lantern and I drew a quick diagram in the dirt for her of the rockfall’s position and extent.

Cara stood and brushed off her hands. “I’ll head up to Meldon, fill him in before I eat. Oh, and the kid’s back, safe and sound—he took your gear up to your tarp. Looked kinda wobbly, though. You sure you’re feeding him enough?”

“He’s just tired. Long day, for a city boy.” Relief made my voice light. If Khalmet really favored me, maybe Kiran had even managed to avoid Pello. I’d have to think of some innocent way to ask Cara about Pello’s little visit.

“He can sleep in some tomorrow, thanks to that rockfall. I doubt the convoy’ll move before noon.” Cara peered at me, her blonde brows drawing together. “You look like you could use some extra sleep yourself.”

“Not my fault if Kellan snores.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Kiran didn’t snore, but he certainly was a noisy sleeper. Lots of thrashing and sighing and whimpering. From the sound of it, his dreams weren’t much more fun than mine.

She grinned and strode off. I hurried over to the tarp, my nerves keying up a notch. When I ducked under the edge, the glow of a lantern illuminated our sleeping blankets, laid neatly out beside our personal gear. Kiran sat cross-legged beside them, staring at his hands laced together in his lap. He raised his head when I squatted down in front of him. Cara was right, he did look a bit unsteady, though that was a big improvement from the last time I’d seen him.

“What in Khalmet’s name happened with you?” I demanded.

His eyes slid away from mine. “Nothing. I just don’t like storms.”

“Right.” I drew the word out. His chin lifted, and I got another glimpse of a highsider’s usual arrogance. Judging by the stubborn, mutinous look on his face, I could wait until all the snow melted off the Whitefires before he’d explain. I clenched my hands on my knees to keep myself from shaking some sense into him. “Remember how you agreed to lay low and stay close? Was I somehow not clear? Or in highsider talk, does laying low mean running screaming from a simple thunderstorm in front of half the convoy?”

“I wasn’t—!” He shut his mouth so fast I thought he’d bite his tongue off. His gaze dropped back to his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully controlled. “How much of a problem will this cause?”

“Did Pello find you? Talk to you, at all?”

He shook his head. My relief didn’t lessen my anger. “He could have, easy. You gods-damned idiot! You think just because you’re highside, you can ignore anything I say? You pull another stunt like this, and you can go to hell on your own.”

“I’m sorry, all right?” His blue eyes were stricken. “Have you never acted out of emotion without thinking first?”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but couldn’t manage the lie. Not with memories of my final night with Jylla so raw and recent. If I’d kept a cool head, I might have bargained with her and saved myself from losing everything. But no, I’d let my fury take my tongue, and done my level best to rip her apart. You don’t live with someone as long as I had with Jylla without learning what will cause the most pain. Of course, that goes both ways. By the end of that night, we’d both said things we could never forgive or forget. And look where that had gotten me.

“Next time, think twice,” I growled. “This isn’t some fucking kids game. At the border, we’ll be playing with our lives.”

“I know,” he said quietly. My anger faded at the sincerity in his voice. I studied the dark circles under his eyes, frowning.

“You okay, now? You still look a little...” I waggled a hand.

“I’m fine.” The stubborn look reappeared.

“Whatever,” I muttered. I shoved myself to my feet. “Come on, then. Time to eat.”

Dinner wasn’t much, without spare water for proper cooking. When I handed Kiran his ration of jerky, hardtack, and dried fruit, he released a sad little sigh. Harken and I chuckled, and even Jerik’s mouth twitched.

“Last night of dry rations, lad.” Harken gave Kiran a sympathetic look. “Tomorrow night we’ll be high enough the stream will be in full flow, and I promise you won’t be disappointed in my cooking.” He leaned back from his seat on the wagon’s outboard and reached into the stacks of supplies. “In the meantime, I brought a little something extra to share around.” He produced a fist-sized sack which proved to contain Sulanian seedcakes sweetened with peachflower honey and dusted with cinnamon.

“You’re a marvel, Harken,” I mumbled through a mouthful of seedcake. Harken grinned at me, the warm golden glow of the lanterns softening the years etched in his face.