Followed by Fros(27)
Servants surrounded Imad, and he brushed most of them away, murmuring yes and no, shaking his head or offering thanks. He led the way up those great winding stairs—I ached to touch the railing but dared not for fear it would be damaged by my frost—and into a great throne room, larger than the last, its south and east sides letting in the bright sun through circle-top windows. I peered out of one of them and spied my white cloud hovering above us, shading half the city.
“Smeesa, would you like something to eat?”
I turned and noticed a servant carrying a tray of food had joined Imad. She was a middle-aged woman in a long violet dress and salmon head scarf, and she was regarding me with curious eyes. Lo had left, but two new guards stood at attention at the entrance to the throne room, wearing indigo garb that looked to have chain mail sewn right into the fabric. The serving woman’s tray was weighted down with quiche, flatbreads with hummus, raisins, and a strange-smelling wine.
I didn’t enjoy eating in front of the others, especially Imad, for it required me to chew and swallow swiftly in order to keep the food from freezing in my mouth. But I was hungry, and besides, I did not want to embarrass the prince by turning down his kind offer.
“Thank you,” I said, pulling my sleeve over my right hand. I took a piece of flatbread and, turning away, ate it as slowly as I dared. The simple bread tasted good on my tongue, even when it hardened and turned chewy in my mouth. I accepted a few raisins, which Imad placed directly in my covered hands, understanding the precautions I had to take.
“We need to fit you for some real clothes,” he said with a smile, accepting a glass of wine before dismissing the serving woman with a nod. “And some gloves and shoes.”
I looked down. My feet were still bare, as there had been no shoes to fit them among Imad’s traveling party. The tiles beneath me shimmered with frost. I feared I had made them rather slippery as well, for the serving woman stumbled on her way out.
Imad clapped his hands and called out to one of his guards. As I had already realized on our voyage, he made an effort to know the names of all who served him. “Aghid, would you find Kitora and ask her to take Smeesa’s measurements?” He spoke in Hraric and gestured to me when he said my name. “And provide any spare clothes she can wear in the meantime.”
The guard nodded and vanished from the doorway. A moment later Lo appeared to take his place. I was amazed at how Imad and Lo seemed unwearied from days of travel, for my own frozen body ached for rest.
Imad noticed and personally showed me to a room larger than my entire home in Euwan, with a bed fit for five women and draped with mustard-colored curtains. A chest of wood, which must have been expensive considering how few trees grew near Mac’Hliah, sat at its foot. A table holding water and a bowl for washing rested on the far side of the room. I even had my own bathroom, complete with a chamber pot and a porcelain tub. A round mirror hung on the wall. I turned away from it, pulled off my gloves, and touched its surface until it frosted over.
I could not sleep right away, however. Kitora, a serving woman about fifty years old with a slight hunch in her back, came to measure me. Either the cold didn’t bother her or she ignored it with great skill, for she went about her work without hesitation save for my countless warnings that she must not touch my bare skin. Taking in the sight of my dusty, ruined clothes, she insisted on drawing me a bath. I asked if it would be too much trouble for her to boil the water.
I bathed myself. Baths were a hard thing for me, and over the years I had started washing myself less and less often. Living in the wilderness, I didn’t bother to maintain much of a hygienic standard. I wrapped my hands, crouched beside the tub of steaming water, and dipped a rag in it, then scrubbed one part of my body at a time, starting with my face and working my way down. I worked with haste, wiping up as much dirt as I could. Once I was finished, I carefully worked my nails over the tiny flakes of ice that kissed my skin, shedding them one by one. They scattered over the floor like dandelion seeds.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, Kitora had laid out a pale blue wiptoa dress and matching head scarf on the bed, along with a pair of tan sandals, long pants, and gloves. I dressed slowly, marveling at the quality and beauty of the clothing. The fabric stiffened beneath my touch, but it fit well enough. I pulled on the gloves and wrapped the scarf around my neck, covering as much of my skin as I could. After braiding my hair over my shoulder, I lay down on the bed, instantly cradled by its softness. Even with my aching muscles, almost-numb fingers, and shuddering shoulders, I managed to fall asleep quickly and ignore my coldness for a little while.
When I awoke my room was dark, illuminated by a single half-melted candle at my bedside. The soft mattress of my bed had grown hard underneath me, and it held my shape when I sat up, the surfaces sparkling with ice crystals. Leaving the candle where it was—I did not want to put it out on accident—I walked to the first circle-top window and peered outside.
Soft, starlit feathers of snow fell in silence from my storm, crowning Mac’Hliah in silver and white.
CHAPTER 11
By morning my snows had cooled the sandy earth enough to stick to the streets, roofs, and mountains in clusters, making Mac’Hliah a white city in the midst of the burning gold that surrounded it. The contrast amazed me. I gripped the balcony of the palace’s third story with my gloved hands and leaned out as far as I could, marveling at the wonder of it all, thinking for the first time that the snow around me looked beautiful in its cascading silence. I marveled that my curse, created by one wizard, could so thoroughly disturb Mother Nature, one of the most powerful forces known to man.