Followed by Fros(33)
“Is it small?”
“Very.”
“My town is small, too,” I said. “There were three hundred people or so when I left.”
His dark eyes shifted from the fire to me. He hesitated before speaking, but when he did it was without abashment.
“Tell me, if you will, why you are how you are. It is apparent you were not always Svara Idyah. Why has this winter come to follow you so intimately?”
I opened my mouth to speak, but only chilled air passed my lips. It would be a long time before I explained to someone Mordan’s curse. Over the years I had realized I’d done many things to deserve his curse, whether or not he knew it.
After some thought, I answered, “Winter is the dearest friend to those who have chosen to be cold.”
He narrowed his eyes, but I did not explain. Standing, I brushed off my skirt. Using my right hand, I signed, Thank you for talking to me, and excused myself to my quarters.
I do not know how late Lo stayed up, but I managed to get an hour of rest before Eyan banged against my door at dawn for our two-week return trip to Mac’Hliah.
I did not tell him how terrified I was of what would happen to me once we arrived.
CHAPTER 14
Lo did not slow the soldiers when we reached the city; they staggered to a halt on their own, awed at the sight before them. I peered over their tall shoulders to see it for myself, and a smile broke across my face.
Fresh water ran down the mountain slopes that cradled Mac’Hliah, and I dare say I saw a few struggling patches of green among the cliffs. Not enough time had passed for the water to bolster farming, but the market—the almost straight line of color that cut through the center of the city—seemed a little fuller, the people a little livelier.
Lo gave me an almost wry look before shouting to the men in Hraric and leading us down the sandy slopes into the capital, through the winding streets to that exquisite palace that shimmered against the breast of the mountains. Imad, dressed rather plainly for a prince in long khalat robes of teal and plum, welcomed us warmly on the steps of his home. He even embraced Lo, who stood a full head taller than him, and bowed to me. He was a prince, so the gesture humbled me and left me speechless.
“The pools have been refreshed, Smeesa,” Imad exclaimed, gesturing to the mountains behind us. “The leopard pools have been dry so long, but your snow has filled them, and will continue to fill them.” He clasped my gloved hands. “You must stay here; I beg you. Should you wish to return to the Northlands, I will of course grant your wish, but I beg you to stay. Even if the drought ends tomorrow, the water will make Zareed prosper. Do you see?”
He released my hands and rubbed his own together, warming them.
“But she cannot stay in the city,” said an older man lingering behind him, his head and face shaved clean like Eyan’s. He was dressed more richly than Imad, despite the heat. For a moment I supposed him to be the king, but no one bowed, and Imad had described his father as being very old. This man looked middle-aged at most.
Imad nodded, thumbing the hoop in his left ear. “I have considered that. Smeesa, my adviser, Kechak.”
The man nodded, as did I.
“Do not think me ungrateful,” Kechak said in heavily accented Northlander, “for your services here. But Mac’Hliah will not survive under constant snowfall, and the cold will throw off the balance of the land. Tar Tarra”—the term meant Mother Nature—“did not intend for Zareed to be so temperate.”
“Come inside, Smeesa,” Imad said, gesturing with both hands. “And we will all discuss it. Lo, please excuse your men—their journey has been hard. A few days’ paid rest will see them well.”
Eyan yelped a solo cheer behind me.
I followed Imad and Kechak up to a wide room on the second floor, where another adviser, Talim, sat waiting for us at a long table. I had the impression that these men had been against Imad’s mission to find me. But if that had been the case, they regarded me much more warmly now that the land was thriving.
I, of course, agreed to stay in Zareed, for there was nothing in Iyoden I wanted to return to—nothing I could return to, save for the empty mountains, hunting dogs, and Sadriel’s visits. After a meal and some discussion, Imad decided on some caves in the Ohpi, or “Finger,” Mountains northeast of Mac’Hliah. They were far enough for my snowstorms not to affect the city but close enough that, should I be needed, I could be easily reached. That, and the mountains would continue to collect snow and provide runoff throughout the year. I was wary about my new home, but Imad gave me his word that it would be comfortable. I stayed in the palace for three more days while Imad’s men made arrangements for me. During that time my storm refreshed the city’s runoff but also drove families back into their mud-brick homes. I imagined many of them were happy to see me leave.
I did not see Imad the day of my move—Aamina told me he was working out border delegations in his father’s stead with Paeil, a small coastal country to the west. Aamina, a woman in her late forties with hair dark as onyx and a mouth full of conversation, had been appointed as one of my suppliers, a servant of sorts who would bring food and other necessities to my new home. I felt awkward to accept such an arrangement—after all, I had learned to live on my own—but Imad had insisted on it. Before I left, Aamina introduced me to Rhono, a stout woman with a pursed mouth, and Havid, a tall, thin man with a long neck and short hair, both of whom would also assist me in my new residence. Neither seemed happy to meet me nor pleased with their new line of work. Rhono actually crossed herself and tapped her shoulders before I even left the room. I pretended not to notice, but anxiety pressed in on me from all sides until I was forced to breathe slowly through my mouth just to hold my calm. Aamina asked if I was all right, and I assured her that I was. I did not want her to worry, though I was relieved she would be the one to help me settle into my new home.