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  Every man was mounted. The speed of the Lau horses was a great advantage to them, at least while the weather held. I thought Lord Aras had probably intended to strike very fast and hard against inGara and destroy us completely, then perhaps strike to the east or west at one of our allies before withdrawing as rapidly as he had come. I thought he might have succeeded in destroying at least one tribe, perhaps two.

  That would not happen now. I wished again that I could go to Garoyo and tell him he had been right to leave me as tuyo, that he had avoided great disaster by doing so and he should not regret the act or take blame to himself for it. I would never be able to tell him so. That made it harder still to put the thought out of my mind.

  I rode a gelding, a handsome bay with a stride twice as long as that of an Ugaro pony. He was a cooperative animal, which was good because I was not accustomed to so large a horse nor to the signals he had been trained to answer. Lord Aras rode near me, at the back of the formation. He rode easily, his back straight, but with only one hand for the reins. His other hand rested on his thigh. His pose seemed relaxed, but I knew he rode that way to favor cracked ribs and a badly bruised arm.

  The land became more heavily forested as we rode south, long fingers of pine and spruce and larch on the rocky hillsides, birch and alder where the folds of the land offered more protection. Eventually we came to a more open wood and then onto clear ground where the horses could move even faster. There was snow on the ground, not enough to slow the horses, but I saw many of them had cut their legs where the snow had crusted. Ugaro ponies have far more feathering on their legs, but I had not realized how the clean legs of the Lau horses would be so vulnerable to even a little ice crusting over the snow.

  In the middle of this more open land, the Lau drew up and dismounted, though it was only noon. I was surprised, for even the Lau, who do not have the endurance of Ugaro, should not have needed to rest so early in the day. But I saw soon enough that they were concerned for their horses, not for themselves, and meant to rest the animals here where they could see a long way and no ambush was possible. I dismounted too, and stooped to look at my horse’s legs. He was a little cut about the pasterns, but the cuts were shallow and not serious. If the crust on the snow had been thicker, it might have been different. I wondered if Lord Aras had thought of that when he brought so many mounted soldiers across the river. Probably he had not, or he would have wrapped the legs of the horses. Some men were doing that now, using material they had probably brought for bandages.

  My gelding lipped at my hair in a friendly way and nudged at me, wanting attention and grain. I had nothing to give him, but a soldier came up and gave him a little water and a handful of grain. I could not tell whether he was a man whom I had seen before; all the Lau looked much alike to me, fine-boned and tall. He scowled at me, so I bowed my head to show that I did not want trouble. His scowl deepened, but he only said curtly, “Lord Gaur wants you.”

  I turned and found Lord Aras a little distance away and went to join him. Many of the soldiers turned to watch, putting their hands to the hilts of their swords or to their bows. Probably they all knew I had tried to kill their warleader, so I did not set any fault against them for that. I knelt when I came to Lord Aras because even if he did not like it, I thought it might be as well to make it plain to everyone watching that I did not intend to attack him again now. He might have thought the same, for he did not tell me to stand. He said instead, “Ryo, two of my outriders are missing. Tell me what you think has happened to them.”

  I thought a Lau horse might simply have misjudged the ground beneath the snow and put a foot wrong, but there were many other dangers. In the winter country, there are the great white tigers, many times the weight of a man; and the small tawny lions who are so swift and clever that they can be almost as dangerous. Wolves are cousins to Ugaro, so we are kind to one another, but wolves might not respect a Lau. Still, I did not think the missing men had fallen afoul of any of those dangers. I said, “Two men are not likely to be lost to accident or mischance. I think Ugaro are in the forest close about you.”

  “I think you’re right,” he said. “Which Ugaro? Your brother’s men? Has he turned after all to come after us?”

  I shook my head. “Garoyo would never do such a thing, but these will not be inGara. These will be warriors of an allied tribe. They will not even know yet that my brother gave me to you as tuyo. I think your soldiers are dead men, though perhaps they still breathe now.”

  His mouth tightened. He was probably thinking of the likelihood that we would soon hear his men screaming, and later find their mutilated and headless bodies hanging from a tree along our path. If that happened, I thought he would probably give me a tuyo’s death after all. I bowed my head and spoke as steadily as I could. “My lord, I was given to you and you may do anything you wish with me. But if your soldiers think to say my name and tuyo, then warriors of any allied tribe would know my people gave me to you. As they are not inGara, they would probably kill your men anyway, but they would do it quickly. And they might return the heads to you.”

  Lord Aras looked at me for a long moment. Finally he said, “Thank you for explaining, Ryo. You don’t need to be concerned I would take vengeance on you for anything other Ugaro might do, however. I’ve given you guest-right.”

  I had forgotten that, and drew a breath in relief. I knew it was a weakness to depend on a Lau’s generosity. It was a worse weakness to hope to live, but I could not help it.

  He paid me no more attention, turning to Talon Commander Samaura instead. “We won’t rest here,” he said. “We’ll go on, and see if the Ugaro let us go. If they want a fight, we’ll see if we can’t make them regret that, but I’d just as soon get clear if we can.”

  “Certainly, if you think that best,” answered the talon commander, but he went on. “But we didn’t bring a whole talon across the river just to enjoy the scenery, did we? We have enough men that we could take any reasonable number of Ugaro warriors. This may offer an excellent opportunity to do just that. We could use one division to draw an attack: they could try an exploratory venture out that way—” he nodded to the west—“and let themselves be strung out, give the Ugaro the kind of target they like best, then close up tight once they’ve drawn the Ugaro into an attack.” He glanced now at the level land to our north and west. “Get the Ugaro onto that ground and we could get around them and stop them from retreating, pin them between our main force and the one division. Once we had a clear target, we could roll them right up. It’d be hard on the one division, but I think we could do it, my lord.”

  “I think we could too, if the Ugaro could be drawn into such an attack,” agreed Lord Aras. “Ryo, your comment?”

  I did not wish to answer. Still, I thought about this question. It seemed to me that an Ugaro warleader would have to be mad to let himself be drawn into open battle against a full talon. But if a single Lau commander became too bold, any warleader would want to seize the chance to cut that division off from the main force and destroy it. The plan Talon Commander Samaura had proposed might work exactly as he suggested.

  I wished I knew which warleader might be out there. The warleader of the inGeiro was Naroya, a careful man who was not likely to make so serious a mistake as to forget how fast Lau horses could run. I did not believe Naroya inGeiro would let himself be trapped as the talon commander suggested. The warleader of the inSorako was a younger man, Panaro, who might be eager enough to be careless. He might say to himself, Everyone knows the Lau are a cowardly people. They do not stand forth to attack, but stay with their companions. The rest of that talon will stay back, even while my people cut down these few who have stupidly ridden out to find us. If that happened, many inSorako warriors might be killed.

  I said finally, “If I were a warleader, I would pretend to offer battle, while actually I wished only to delay and hinder you as much as I could. I would send messages in every direction so that everyone knew how many Lau soldiers had come to this place.
It is early for heavy snow, but if there is a singer among the warriors, she would certainly ask for snow. If the gods favored us and snow began to fall, then soon your horses would be no use to you. Then your whole talon would be trapped. Ugaro warriors would not need to break your formations. They would only need to hold you in place until the cold took your strength.” None of this was likely. But any of it might happen the way I described it. I put conviction in my voice. “I think you should ride south, or you may lose many more than only two men.”

  Lord Aras studied me for a moment. Then he said to the talon commander, “I believe my first thought was probably wise. I know what we planned, but even so, we’ll ride south. Pass that order and then come back; we’ll discuss the situation.” He glanced at me again. “I imagine you’re wondering whether you might try to get clear of us and return to your own people. If any such attempt seems at all likely to succeed, I’ll have you shot. It would be a waste and I would regret it extremely, so don’t try it.”

  I had been thinking just that, of course. I bowed to the ground to show I accepted his warning. Then I stood up, went back to my horse, and hauled myself, with some difficulty, into the high saddle. In a little while, the order came, and all the Lau began to move again, pressing the horses to a trot.

  For a long time we rode at a trot and then a walk and then a trot again. One thinks of horses at a gallop when one thinks of speed, but now that the Lau chose to press their pace, even the long, swinging walk of the tall horses carried them farther than I had realized we could move. Every hand and finger of time took us south. The land became more hilly and more heavily forested again: worse land for Lau to fight upon, and better for Ugaro. One arrow sang from the distant trees, snapping into a horse’s neck so that the beast screamed and plunged, then went to his knees and rolled as the life left him. But the soldier flung himself clear as the horse went down, and the other Lau swung their shields around so that a scattering of other arrows struck nothing but hide and wood. The Lau did not even break their ranks, though they pressed their horses to a swift trot until the arrows ceased falling among them.

  I looked into the forest as we rode, thinking of where I might set an ambush if I were a warleader. I might shoot a few arrows to make the Lau ride more swiftly and pay less attention to the country before them. But the land before us opened up again and I knew no such ambush waited for us. Despite the warleader’s warning, I thought of jerking my horse around and kicking him into a run, back into the heavier forest. The crowding firs would protect me from Lau archers if I could get any distance at all. But as Lord Aras had warned me, four Lau archers rode near me, each with his bow in his hand and an arrow set to the string. Lau bows are less powerful than Ugaro bows, but not that much less powerful. Lau archers are less skilled than Ugaro bowmen, but not that much less skilled. And I did not even know whether it would be right for me to try to escape. It was not a question a tuyo often had to contemplate.

  As the Sun walked lower toward the western edge of the world, I began to hear wolves singing in the distance. These were not wolves, of course, but Ugaro warriors. If one listened carefully one could tell the difference, not only between wolf and man, but between one tribe and another tribe. I listened with all my attention, and decided eventually that those were inGeiro. I thought the Lau were lucky they had chosen not to try to tempt the Ugaro into rash action.

  The Lau did not wait to see whether any Ugaro might come against them. They pressed their horses harder still, until the voices that were not wolves fell too far behind to hear. On foot or on ponies, either way, the Ugaro warriors could not keep up with the Lau. Still, the Lau would not necessarily have everything as they wished. I thought that if I were Naroya inGeiro, I would let the Lau get as far ahead as they might while the Sun stood in the sky, but then I would travel through the night to get ahead of them. Lau horses may be faster than our ponies, but our ponies are tireless. Also, the Moon would favor us, for the winter country is hers and we are her people.

  To my surprise, the Lau did not halt. They paused once for a little while, and then again later, but each time they went on. The horses were tired and walked with their heads down, but their strides were still long and smooth. The Moon stepped into the sky, in the north, where she rises during the season of the long cold. She would not cast down much light until her husband departed for the land of the shades beneath the earth, but her silvery radiance brightened the clouds where she walked slowly higher toward the vault of the sky.

  Then we came around a long ridge and I was astonished to see in the distance the thin gleaming line of the river. I had not had the remotest idea we had come so far. I had assumed that the Lau must soon stop for the night, that the Ugaro coming behind us must overtake us and then get in front of us. Now I saw that this was impossible. The Lau would cross the river tonight—today, for even after the Sun departed the winter country, he would linger in the summer lands for another hand or two or even more, lending some light to the borderlands on this side of the river. I turned and looked back the way we had come, thinking I might see Ugaro coming behind us, but so far as I could tell, the forest was empty. I turned back to face south and looked across the river instead, to where the land sloped up, green and rich and warm, with no snow anywhere.

  We rode on, and the river grew from a ribbon to a long curving blade and then to a wide silver road, curving away to the west and the east, dividing the whole world. On the other side of the river, the Sun was bright and the sky lower and warmer, hazy with cloud. On our side, the Sun had all but departed. The sky, high and clear, glittered with early stars, and the air was still as crystal.

  Still as crystal. Too still. I looked up suddenly. The temperature was falling, though it was not yet quite dusk. The temperature was falling too fast, and now that I was paying attention in the right way, I knew the air was far too still. Now I knew why the forest behind us was so empty. But now it might be too late.

  I had checked my horse without noticing, and Lord Aras turned to look at me. He began to turn his horse toward me, but I did not wait. I jerked my gelding’s head to the side and kicked hard, and he jumped forward in surprise, crowding the blood bay horse. I seized the warleader’s wrist in an urgent grip as our horses came together.

  “It is the fengol, the great cold,” I told him. “Listen! You can hear the weight of still air above us.” All the small sounds of the land had ceased. No birds called, no distant fox yipped. The little animals had felt it before I had, fool that I was, riding distracted and thinking about everything else, deaf to the change in the air. I could see in my mind exactly how it would be: all the Lau and their horses fallen stiff in the snow, frost glittering on their dark skin and across their open eyes. I demanded, “Can you not feel it? It will fall very soon—I did not hear the stillness as quickly as I should have—”

  Lord Aras pulled free of my grip and said to Talon Commander Samaura, his tone calm, “The great cold is falling. Order the fastest possible retreat. The men are to break formation and ride for the river. No one is to delay nor turn back once they reach the far side. Go.”

  Despite his calm, his tone was sharp and the talon commander whirled his horse about and began to give those orders.

  Only then did it occur to me that if I had said nothing, all the Lau might have died here, where now many or most would probably live. But it was too late to catch the moment back.

  Lord Aras sat with his hands closed hard on the reins, his head up. Horn notes lifted, clear in the still air, and the horses began to run. Now I saw the true speed of the Lau horses as, even weary as they were, they flung themselves forward with great strides, so fast they seemed almost to fly. Their nostrils were wide and red, and foam flew back as they poured out their strength in blazing speed. Those at the front had already begun to reach the river’s edge. The horses leaped into the water without pause, as though they had finally heard the fengol coming. Our ponies would have felt it earlier, and I would have known by their wisdom that the soft
hammer of the gods was coming down.

  Lord Aras rode more slowly, keeping at the rear of the last formation. He was watching everything, the riders already in the river and those coming to the bank and the division commanders at the edges, who rode back and forth, calling encouragement to their men. I saw a horse go down in a hard fall, and Talon Commander Samaura haul the fallen rider up before him on his mare and turn her into the river. She leaped out from the bank in a great curving jump that showed how much she wanted to go.

  I listened to the weight of the silence above. I could feel it was very close and falling very fast. “Hurry! Ride!” I shouted to the soldiers in front of me. All our horses were already galloping hard, but I shouted anyway, in taksu, forgetting that the Lau would not understand. They did not need to know the words to understand. They dropped their shields, crouching low over the necks of their horses, urging them to greater speed.

  My horse leaped and came down with a huge splash. Lord Aras was only just behind me, but even at that moment reined back hard, turning to see whether anyone still lagged. His horse tried to rear in protest, screaming. Of the two, I thought the horse plainly had more sense. I tried to shout, to say so—

  —and the fengol came down, soft and soundless and deadly. I felt it barely above us. Reaching out, I grabbed his arm, kicked free of my stirrups, dragged him off his horse, and flung us both into the water.

  The shock of the cold water drove the breath from my lungs, but it was nothing to the cold of the descending fengol and I sucked air back in desperately, knowing I would need it. Lord Aras twisted in my grip, but I shoved him down, rolling so that he was below me in the water. At first I was hardly able to swim, but then he stopped struggling and wrapped his arms around my chest, gripping his hands together behind my neck. Immediately everything became easier, as I could use my arms as well as my legs.

  I came up to the surface, though I tried not to. The cold struck my shoulders and back. The hammer of the gods, we say of the fengol. The soft hammer. It was like that, like a blow. Ice shattered all around me as I forced myself forward and down. My lungs were burning. I did not know how long a Lau could hold his breath—their chests are not as broad or as deep as an Ugaro’s chest—I did not know whether the warleader had caught a breath before I pushed him down. I thought if he came up now, he would surely die and if he did not he might drown. But his grip was still tight, so I knew he was not unconscious.