In Stone's Clasp (13 page)

“I do not know if I can,” Kevla said, “but I will try.”

She noted that Mylikki had grown quiet. The girl sat back in the chair, her arms folded, her eyes distant. “Mylikki? What is wrong?”

“Tell me again all that you know of this Stone Dancer,” the girl replied, her voice thoughtful.

“Not a great deal. I do not even know his name. He is…” Kevla closed her eyes and reached for the dream she had had. “He is tall, with yellow hair. Strong. His eyes are blue. There are laugh lines around his eyes, but now those eyes are hard with pain and anger. He…he has suffered much. At his feet is a huge cat with blue stripes. In my mind, they wait for me on a hill covered with snow.”

She opened her eyes to find both Mylikki and Gelsan staring at her. Hope surged in Kevla.

“Do you know him?” she cried.

Dashing Kevla’s hopes, Mylikki shook her braided head. “No, I don’t,” she said. Suddenly she grinned. “But I think I know someone who does.”

“A few weeks ago, a
huskaa
came to our village,” Mylikki continued. “They wander from town to town singing songs and bringing news. They are greatly honored. He taught me that song you heard, as well as many others. His name is Altan Lukkari.”

Mylikki turned bright red. She cleared her throat and continued. “He comes from a village far to the north. He described a man in his village that did not look like the
taaskali,
but who had powerful magic. He changed the seasons. They called him the
Kevat-aanta
—the Spring-Bringer.”

“But…I thought the seasons changed on their own.”

“They did, but according to Altan,” and again Mylikki’s color rose as she said the name, “this man made them change at will. He enhanced them, somehow. The trees bore more fruit, the harvests were more bountiful because of him. But then his powers deserted him.”

Kevla was horrified. How could a Dancer lose his power? He
was
the element, how could the abilities simply vanish? “How did this happen?”

“Our gods are as you described them,” Gelsan said quietly.

Kevla turned her attention to the other woman. The comment seemed to have nothing to do with the conversation. “I don’t understand.”

“You mentioned this man standing with one of our gods,” Gelsan continued. “That means your vision must be true. You are obviously a stranger to this land, and yet you described them perfectly. Giant cats, with blue and white stripes. We call them
tigers.
They live high in the mountains. They made the world and determined the cycles. In the old days, they would descend and walk through the world, and flowers would spring beneath their feet.”

“When the Spring-Bringer began to change the seasons, everyone thought that the gift of the gods had been passed to him,” Mylikki continued. “But when his powers deserted him, people said the gods were angry with him, and took his powers as punishment.”

“But my vision,” Kevla said. “I saw him with the
simmar
—the tiger. So he must be still blessed by the gods.”

“Then why is there still winter?” Gelsan’s voice was harsh. She was angry, and understandably so. If what Mylikki had said was true, and the Stone Dancer had lost his powers, everyone in this land was suffering.

Kevla passed a hand over her forehead. Jashemi would have been able to help her make sense of this information. But he was gone, and could not offer advice, or comfort, or love anymore.

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know. But it does sound as if this man is the one I seek. Where is Altan now?”

“Long gone,” said Gelsan before Mylikki could speak. “And a good thing, too. Planting ideas in my daughter’s head.”

“I have talent,” Mylikki retorted. “He said I could play almost as well as someone who had been formally apprenticed.”

“Women don’t become
huskaas,
” Gelsan said.

“Women don’t become head of their village either,” Mylikki snapped, then gasped at Gelsan’s expression. Clearly, Mylikki had spoken before she had thought.

Attempting to forestall the argument, Kevla said, “I fly on the back of the Dragon. I will be able to find the Stone Dancer if you tell me where to look.”

Mother and daughter regarded each other intently. Mylikki swallowed hard. “I won’t tell you,” she said, and dragged her gaze to Kevla’s. “I’ll show you.”

“Mylikki,” Gelsan said in a warning voice.

Abruptly Mylikki leaped to her feet, her stool toppling backward. “This is the first hint of hope we have had, Mother! If Kevla is like the Spring-Bringer, then maybe she can help him get his powers back. Maybe she can bring an end to this horrible winter!” Her voice grew thick but no less angry. “We are dying slowly, one by one, and if this goes on much longer everyone and everything in this land will be dead. You know how little food is left. You did what you had to do. Let me do what I must!”

“You want to follow the boy because he had a pretty face and spoke kindly to you!” Gelsan, too, was on her feet now, clutching her mending so tightly her knuckles were white.

“And if I did?” Mylikki was trembling with anger. “He is still the only chance we have—that Kevla has. I am weary of this winter, Mother. I am weary of the cold, and the poor food, and the fear and sorrow that hangs over our land like a snow-cloud. I want a little bit of hope. I want to think that I’m doing something, not sitting in this house mending old clothes and dying a little bit more each minute!”

Gelsan opened her mouth, then closed it again at once. When she did speak, her voice was low and soft. “Shame is on our household, to speak this in front of a stranger, daughter.”

Kevla could stay silent no longer. “I intend no disrespect,” she said, “but if Mylikki is willing to lead me to Altan, then I will accept her offer. I must warn you both that the Dancers have an enemy—a powerful man I know only as the Emperor. I appear to be eluding his gaze in this land, and I am grateful for it. But if Mylikki comes with me, she might very well be in danger.”

Gelsan gazed at Kevla and her eyes blazed. Then, suddenly, the older woman seemed to sag a little.

“Mylikki is right,” she said, her voice hollow. “We
are
dying a little bit more each day. I would keep her safe, but perhaps she will be safer with a Dragon and a fire-woman than here in this village, where madmen lurk in the woods and food grows ever scarcer.”

Mylikki stood still, hardly breathing.

“Let us pack your things,” Gelsan said. Both mother and daughter looked as if they wanted desperately to reach out to one another, but something held them back.

Kevla, who had gotten to her feet moments before, said quickly, “I will let the Dragon know,” and slipped out the door.

His eyes narrowed when he saw her. “You have learned something. I see it in your face.” Kevla told him. “Another clue on our journey, then,” he said. “Another piece of this puzzle.”

Kevla sighed. “I am tired of journeys and puzzles, Dragon. I would find this man quickly and be done with it.”

“Of course, but that is not how things usually work,” the Dragon replied, maddeningly philosophical. He rose and shook himself. “I will see if I can find them any more food as a parting gift,” he said, suiting action to word.

Alone in the center of the circle of houses, Kevla looked around, again taking in the extreme poverty of the place. Though they were far apart in distance and circumstance, the little village of Arrun Woods had much in common with the place where Kevla had spent the first ten years of her life. Death lurked here, as Gelsan had said, in the form of madmen in the woods and in the slow pinch of starvation. It stank of fear, and yet the people had not given up. Kevla thought of the harsh mien of her mother, forced to sleep with men for money to feed herself and her child. She thought of the beggars on the street, already half out of this life. She found herself smiling at one of the children who shyly waved at her as he zipped past on
skelthas,
and realized she was growing fond of Gelsan and her family.

Don’t do it, Kevla,
she told herself.
This is not your land; these people are not your concern. They must take care of themselves. Perhaps Mylikki is right, perhaps you can bring back spring to this place; but your real task is to find the Stone Dancer. It’s his land and his charge.

Nonetheless, Kevla used the time waiting for the Dragon and Mylikki to walk up to the stonesteaming hut and heat the stones as strongly as she could.

Some time later, Mylikki and Gelsan emerged from the little house. Mylikki carried an awkwardly wrapped bundle and Gelsan had two large sacks.

Concerned, Kevla said, “I have plenty of provisions, and we have the Dragon. We will not lack for food.”

Gelsan replied, “You are on your way to try to bring back spring to the land. I would not have you fail because of lack of supplies. And there is more to surviving in this land than food. Mylikki’s not a fire-woman.” She let the sacks drop and straightened, her hands on her lower back.

“There’s a shelter, dry clothing, and cooking tools as well as dried meat, grains, and fruit,” Mylikki explained. Kevla nodded. “Also snow walkers and
skelthas.
”

Sahlik had been the only one with forethought enough to send Kevla off with food and, Kevla thought with a pang, the
Shamizan
set. But Mylikki did not have Kevla’s ability to stay warm no matter hold cold it was, and Kevla had to admit that she would need to learn how to walk over the snow as these people did.

“The cold poses its own dangers,” Gelsan continued. “If anyone in your group falls into a river or is caught in a storm, they must be warmed, but carefully. Remove the wet clothes and lie skin to skin. Too much heat too quickly can kill as surely as the cold.”

Kevla listened carefully as Gelsan described other dangers of exposure to the cold and how such ills might be treated. As she finished, everyone heard the sound of the Dragon’s wings. No longer afraid, the villagers gathered to watch him come to ground. In his forepaws he clutched three large animals with thick, shaggy fur. Kevla never had learned what they were called. As she watched Gelsan’s eyes grow bright with unshed tears of gratitude, her own eyes stung.

“Food for some time. We are grateful to you both. Luck go with you. Kevla…I asked, as you requested. There is no one here who has been having the sort of dreams you described.”

Disappointment knifed through Kevla. There were no Lorekeepers in Arrun Woods. Where were they? If there was any time she needed the wisdom and memories of a Lorekeeper, it was here and now, in this strange country where she was searching for her fellow Dancer.

“I will carry the packs,” the Dragon said to Mylikki. “You can hold on to Kevla.” Mylikki nodded. The three packs disappeared into the vastness of the Dragon’s palm and he closed his claws gently. Mylikki turned and went to her brother.

“I want to go with you!” said Olar. He stood straight and firm, but his color was high and his lips trembled.

“Mother needs you here,” Mylikki said as she went to him and hugged him. “You have to protect her and the others.”

He nodded and stepped back, wiping quickly at his eyes. Mylikki turned to Gelsan. The older woman folded her in her arms and held her tightly. It was the first time Kevla had seen any of them embrace.

“Make us proud, daughter,” Gelsan said.

“I will, Mother,” Mylikki replied. “We will bring back spring. You’ll see.”

Gelsan nodded and smiled, but Kevla saw her eyes cloud with doubt. Mylikki quickly said her goodbyes to the rest of the village; to the people she had known all her life. Kevla thought her perhaps a bit overeager to depart. She, who had only recently discovered that she had family and a place among them, had been loath to leave, even though her life in Arukan had been far from the family-centered environment she saw here. She thought about how Mylikki had colored when she spoke Altan’s name, of Gelsan’s comment that the
huskaa
had spoken kindly to the girl, and thought she understood why Mylikki was so anxious to leave.

Reading her thoughts as he often did, the Dragon sent,
I wonder if this Altan of Mylikki’s will be able to help at all, or if we are about to embark on a journey that will do nothing but squander precious time.

We have no choice,
Kevla thought back.
This is the closest we’ve come to the Dancer so far, and we must follow where this path leads.

Mylikki finished her farewells and approached the Dragon. He lowered himself as much as he could, extending a forepaw to help his traveling companions clamber atop his massive back. Mylikki looked unsure of herself as she settled in.

“I once was wounded and fell from the Dragon’s back,” Kevla told her as Mylikki’s arms went tightly around her waist. “He dove and caught me.”

“That’s supposed to reassure me?”

Kevla laughed. Unexpectedly, she felt warm and happy inside. She liked Mylikki, and she had never had a female friend before. She was suddenly glad that she did not have to make the rest of the journey alone.

The Dragon craned his neck to look back at them. “Where to, Mylikki?” he asked.

“He said he was going to the nearest village, Galak-by-the-Lake. Head southeast, and we should see it soon.”

Mylikki’s arms around Kevla’s waist were so tight that Kevla had trouble drawing breath. “He won’t let you fall,” she told Mylikki. The girl did not loosen her grip. Trying to distract her new friend, Kevla asked, “What do you think of this?” She indicated the land that unfurled below them.

“It’s so high up,” Mylikki said. “But it is so very beautiful. The ice and snow look lovely from here.”

As the wind whipped her hair, Kevla wondered if the other girl was cold. She wore heavy clothing and a cloak, which was, Kevla supposed, the best she could do. Travel by Dragon had advantages and disadvantages.

“You know what we are looking for, Mylikki,” Kevla said. “Stay alert and keep looking down. Let us know when we come across this village.”

“It’s called Galak-by-the-Lake,” Mylikki said. “It’s one of the largest lakes in the region. In summer, everyone…” Her voice trailed off, and Kevla did not press for summertime anecdotes.

It had been late morning when they left. Time passed, and the sun made its low, dim pass across the sky. Finally, Kevla saw something shimmering below them, catching the dying light.

“There!” she cried, pointing. “Is that the lake?”

“Yes,” Mylikki replied. “The village should be right…there.”

And there it was, Galak-by-the-Lake, looking even smaller than Mylikki’s village. The Dragon dove, coming to earth between the large, oval lake and the collection of homes. Smoke issued from holes in the roofs of some; others seemed empty.

“No one is coming to greet us,” Kevla said.

“They’re afraid,” Mylikki answered. “We only came out because we feared you would take our only source of food. And the Dragon isn’t exactly helping matters.”

“Ungrateful girl,” muttered the Dragon.

Mylikki looked both chagrined and horrified. “I meant no insult,” she said, “only—”

“He knows what you mean, Mylikki. Dragon, you must admit, you are quite powerful and intimidating.”

The compliment placated him. Kevla slid down to the Dragon’s upper arm, then dropped to the snow. She held up her arms to help Mylikki dismount.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Kevla asked.

Mylikki nodded. The cloak hood had slipped, revealing her golden hair. She looked about with intense blue eyes; breath rose from her lips in little puffs. Kevla let her lead; in this frightened land, Mylikki would be more readily welcomed than she.

Many of the houses were roofless ruins. If it were not for the telltale smoke curling up into the sky, Kevla would have thought this village abandoned.

Mylikki strode forward. “Mylikki of the village of Arrun Woods gives greetings to the people of Galak-by-the-Lake,” she called in a voice that trembled only a little. She was greeted by silence. “I come with my friends Kevla and the Great Dragon. We seek a
huskaa
by the name of Altan.”

No one emerged. Kevla reached to touch the Dragon, wanting to feel his warm smooth scales beneath her fingers.

Abruptly Mylikki turned around and headed back. “The packs,” she said. “I need my
kyndela.
”

Kevla was confused, but she helped Mylikki unwrap the instrument. Shrugging it over her shoulder by the leather strap, Mylikki again strode forward in the snow.

“I too am a
huskaa
and I invoke the Law!” she cried, swinging the instrument so that it hung in front of her.

For a few long moments, Kevla thought whatever ploy the girl was trying had failed. Then, one by one, the doors opened a crack.

“We give greetings to
Huskaa
Mylikki, and we honor the Law,” said a thin, reedy voice. An old man, so gaunt as to be almost skeletal, stepped out of one of the houses. “Strange times are upon us when a woman is a
huskaa,
but nothing is ordinary now. You and your…” He cleared his throat and stared wide-eyed at the smoke-puffing, silent Dragon. “You and your companions are welcome.”

Relief washed over Mylikki’s pretty face. “I thank you, and we will not tarry long. We must find Altan. He was about so tall, curly fair hair, blue eyes. Is he here?”

“He has come and gone,” the old man answered. Disappointment flooded Kevla. She couldn’t help but notice that the headman still did not step out of his house, even though he had offered hospitality in the name of the Law. “Two days since. We had a bad snowstorm,” he glanced up at the darkening sky, “and it looks as though another is hard on its heels. He was heading toward Riversong. A nice young man, and a beautiful voice. I hope the snow has not silenced it.”

Mylikki swallowed. “Thank you,” she said. “We will try to find him.” She hesitated, then said, “Forgive me, but it seems to me that your village is suffering. Go to Arrun Woods. Tell them Mylikki sent you. They have food to share with friends, but not with those who would take it by force,” she added, no doubt suddenly recalling the madmen in the woods.

The man chuckled, a sad, raspy sound. “We could take nothing by force if we wanted to, child,” he said. “We are simply waiting for death. But I think perhaps now, Death may have to wait a bit for us. Luck go with you.”

And the door closed again, softly, but firmly. Mylikki stood in the snow for a moment longer, then sighed and walked back to where Kevla and the Dragon waited for her.

“You heard,” she said tiredly. “We have to head for Riversong.”

“I heard,” said the Dragon, lifting his huge head to the sky and sniffing. “And I think the man you spoke with is right. A storm is not too far distant.”

“Neither are Altan and Riversong,” Mylikki said. “We at least have shelter, food, and the Dragon, Kevla. If he hasn’t made it to Riversong, he’ll be out in the wilds alone. We have to go after him!”

Mylikki was right. They might not find Altan, but they needed to try. “Come, then, let us make haste,” Kevla said.

But they had only been mounted and in the air for a few moments when something cold and wet dotted her cheek. A snowflake. Soon, there was another, and another. The sun had disappeared completely and the earth was barely visible.

“Dragon, can you continue in this?” Kevla asked.

He craned his great head to look back at her. “I can,” he replied, “but the question is, can you?”

Kevla glanced back at Mylikki, who had pulled the hood down over her face. Kevla couldn’t see her eyes, but she could feel the girl’s body shivering.

“I’m f-fine,” Mylikki stammered, clearly lying. “We must keep looking for Altan! He could b-be out in this!”

But Kevla knew, and surely Mylikki did as well, that if Altan were indeed out in the storm instead of taking shelter, they would likely fly right over him and never see him. Even as she hesitated, the snow began to fall more quickly. She felt the cold although it did not chill her, and the flakes clung to her lashes.

She made her decision. “Dragon—we must go to ground and wait this out,” she cried.

The Dragon obediently changed course and headed for what Kevla assumed was an open space. The snow was coming down fiercely now, and she could barely see. She wiped at her face and blinked rapidly. When he landed, he told them, “Stay there for a moment. I will make a shelter for you.”

Snow slid down Kevla’s bare shoulders as she looked back at her companion. Mylikki’s back and head were almost solid white, and the cruel wind buffeted them so hard that her cloak whipped about her. It tore the hood off and Kevla gasped to see that the girl’s eyebrows were coated in ice and her lips were turning blue.

The Dragon undulated, doing something that Kevla couldn’t see, and even she had to hang on tightly in order to avoid sliding off his wet, slippery back. She remembered what it was like to be cold, but this—there was no time, no place in Arukan where one would encounter something like this.

“I have hollowed out a place in the snow,” the Dragon said, his rumbling voice coming to them through the falling sheets of snow. “I will stand over you until it stops. Come, hurry!”

Kevla extricated herself from Mylikki. She slid off the Dragon to a soft, albeit wet, landing in the thick snow. She could now clearly see what the Dragon had done—he had made them a safe place beneath his enormous red body.

“Come on,” she cried, turning her face up to the snow’s assault. The wind tore at her hair and snatched the words from her lips. A particularly harsh gust almost made her stumble and she reached for the Dragon’s leg.

Normally, the Dragon crouched as low as possible so that it was fairly easy to dismount. But now he stood over their shelter, protecting it for them, so the distance from his back to the earth was much greater than usual. Kevla turned her face back up to the now-white sky. The only color she could see was the vivid red of the Dragon an arm’s length away. She held up her arms as Mylikki started to climb down. At one point, though, the wind blew particularly hard and Mylikki lost her grip. She yelped, startled, as she fell hard onto Kevla and they both went down into the snow.

“I’m s-sorry!” Mylikki said, her teeth chattering.

“It’s all right,” Kevla reassured her, helping the girl to her feet and physically turning her in the right direction. “Let’s get beneath the Dragon’s belly.” Together they slogged through the thigh-deep snow.

The sensation of coming into even this little shelter after the ordeal of the snowstorm was one of pure relief. Mylikki fell to her knees, wiping the crusted snow from her eyebrows and hair. As soon as Kevla stumbled in, the Dragon settled his great bulk down slightly. They had formed a tunnel in the snow as they entered, and light and air still came in.

Kevla concentrated and the “room” she had made for them became warmer. She did not want it to get too warm; wetness would be worse than the snow.

Dragon, I need branches.
She began to dig downward, packing the snow into the “walls” around her, until her questing fingers brushed dried grass. She tugged up a few wet, yellow blades and brought them into the center of the area.

“Burn,” she said, and the pathetic blades obeyed. So did the Dragon; he moved above them, lifting one huge forepaw. They heard a ripping, cracking noise and then Kevla saw a large branch at the entrance to their makeshift shelter. Mylikki stumbled to her feet and together they hauled it inside. Kevla looked closely at the girl; the exertion seemed to be bringing color back into her face.

“This is too big,” Kevla said. “We’ll need to break this into smaller pieces.”

“There’s an axe in the pack,” Mylikki said. She looked none too cheerful at the thought of going back into the snow.

“Come on,” said Kevla. They didn’t have to go far; the two large packs and the smaller one were waiting for them a few feet outside. The two women brought them inside and Mylikki proceeded to rummage through one.

“Won’t a fire hurt the dragon?” asked Mylikki, glancing up at the living roof of yellow scales.

Kevla laughed. “The Dragon’s home is a pit of rock so hot that it is liquid. This will be a little warm tickle.”

Mylikki produced two tools with a flourish. One was the promised axe and the other was a small shovel. Working together, the women shoveled the snow from the center, packing it into the walls, until they uncovered a small circular spot on the earth. Then, while Kevla steadied the huge branch, Mylikki hacked it into manageable pieces and arranged them in the makeshift, snow-encircled fire pit.

“Burn,” Kevla said, and at once a cheery light filled the area. Mylikki sighed with pleasure and extended her hands toward the fire, drinking in the welcome warmth.

“The Dragon is a better shelter than anything we brought,” Mylikki announced.

“There will be times and places where he won’t be able to accompany us,” Kevla warned. “It is well you brought them. Get out of those wet things and give them to me.”

Shivering, Mylikki rose and unfastened her cloak. Kevla took it and concentrated, using her Fire-gift to warm the frozen garment. The cloak was stiff with ice. As the ice melted, the cloak began to steam. Understanding now, Mylikki began to shed the rest of her clothes more quickly, removing her outer dress and stockings. Kevla handed her the now-warm and dry cloak, which she used to wrap herself in while she removed her underdress. Soon, she was comfortably clad in clothes that a few moments ago had been sodden and cold.

Kevla dried her own
rhia
on her body with a thought. She had made the clothing from fire itself, drawing forth flame in the Dragon’s lair and dressing herself in it. If ever need arose, she knew she could do so again.

“Thank you,” Mylikki said humbly. “I thought I was well on the way to becoming an Ice Maiden myself.”

“It is a gift,” Kevla said. She did not tell the other woman that the gift was like a sword that could cut both ways. It might have kept Mylikki warm today; but it had also claimed the life of the person Kevla loved more than anyone in the world.

To distract herself, she said, “Something hot to eat will help you stay warm.” One of the things Gelsan had packed was a small pot. Kevla filled it with snow and put it on the fire while Mylikki added dried meat and spices, stirring the soup with a wooden spoon. Kevla knew she could have ordered Mylikki to prepare her meal for her, and that the other girl would have jumped to the task. But Kevla was no great lady, no
khashima,
no queen. She had been born illegitimate, raised on the streets, and her highest rank had been as a handmaiden. She was more comfortable tending others than being tended.

“We would have missed Altan if we had kept going,” Kevla said. “You know that, don’t you?”

Mylikki sighed. “Yes. We will try again tomorrow. He’s not stupid, he would have found shelter somewhere.” She stared at the flame, her eyes distant, her mouth curved in a frown of concern.

“What was that you said to the headman? Something about the Law?”

“What? Oh.” Mylikki laughed. “I told a little lie, I fear. I passed myself off as a
huskaa. Huskaas
are always welcome, even in times such as these. It’s an ancient code of hospitality, the
Huskaa
Law. If a
huskaa
requests food or shelter, it must be given to him. In return, he will play and tell stories and share what news he has. They might not have talked to Mylikki of Arrun Woods, but they would have to open their doors to Mylikki the
huskaa.
Women aren’t supposed to become formal
huskaas,
though we are allowed to play. The headman commented on that, as you recall.”