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legs seemed like they would knot into cramps so tight I would fall from the
saddle& and my throat was tight&
When we reached the crossroads a kay from the gate I .began to relax, but
did not drop the light-reflective shield. While I was convinced we were too
far for either an order-master or a chaos-master to detect the shield, if we
appeared on an open road in plain sight of the walls, even a kay away, it
would only be instants before a troop was dispatched. And although Gairloch
was steady, I doubted that he could outrun true cavalry chargers on the road.
In the mountains, perhaps, but not on the road.
So, cloaked from sight, I rode the south road quietly, as the surface
changed from stone to smooth-packed clay, angling always toward the mountains
I could sense vaguely in the distance until I was certain that the walls of
Jellico had vanished behind multiple rows of the low rolling hills that seemed
to lead toward the mountains.
Even past noon, even with the steady kays we had covered, wagons passed.
Horsemen passed, and two post-carriages. I even had to ride around peddlers on
foot, and a party of pilgrims, the one-god variety.
First the hills were low and rolling, covered in winter grass or crop
stubble, the fields arranged in regular patterns and confined by low stone
walls, with occasional hedgerows. Those huts close enough to the road for me
to sense were ordered enough, if impoverished and stark.
When we crossed another road, running east-west-or so it appeared to my
limited senses-I encountered no more wagons, and but a single horseman, a
post-rider, I suspected.
As the hills had become steeper, the cultivated fields gave way to
grasslands, separated from the road by a stone wall whose maintenance was
haphazard. The smooth-packed clay turned to mud frozen in ruts, and Gairloch s
pace slowed even more.
Very shortly thereafter, over the crest of the second hill past the other
road, beside a high tangle of brush in a dip in the road, and after listening
carefully for what I might not sense, I unwove the shield.
The wind was chill by mid-afternoon, and thick gray-roiling clouds had
covered the blue skies of that morning when I had left Jellico. For all that,
never had the gray of the sky, the sere brown of the grass by the roadside,
the tan-gray of the stone walls at the field edges, never had they seemed so
vivid.
I dismounted and studied the brown tangle where the hedgerow overtopped the
wall, then glanced to the wonder of the clouds, taking a deep breath of air
that seemed fresher just because I could see with my eyes again.
Near the top of the hill, further along the crest and away from the road,
grazed a handful of black-faced sheep. Even seeing them was welcome.
I patted Gairloch.  You re one hell of a pony.
He didn t even whinny, just accepted it.
I took a long drink from the water bottle. My throat was dry. Not knowing
what action might dissolve our cover, I had done nothing but ride and had held
nothing but the reins throughout the long departure.
Thurummm& urummmm& As if to greet me, along with the thunder, light
raindrops began to fall upon my upturned face. At that moment, I didn t care.
XXXVI
BY NIGHTFALL I cared a lot more. First freezing rain had come down nearly
in sheets, gradually turning the rutted road into a surface as treacherous as
glass. Like knives, the ice fragments slashed from the sky. The hills were
steep enough to make climbing impossible, but not rocky enough to contain
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caves or outcroppings.
In the end, I figured out what to do. Under a scrubby tree next to a stone
wall, I created something like the light-weaving, except that it kept out ice
and water.
Easy? Hardly, and with each rumble of thunder I felt more drained, though I
forced myself to keep eating and drinking, knowing that I needed the energy to
hold together the weather-net that sheltered Gairloch and me in a barren area,
with but the marginal shelter of the hedgerow and a short stone wall.
Whheeee& eeee&
 Easy&  I patted him for at least the hundredth time.
After the ice-rain came the snow, thick and wet at first, then cold and
fine. Keeping the finer flakes from us took less energy, and by the time it
was close to midnight the wind and snow had slackened enough and drifted deep
enough against the wall and brushy hedgerow to provide a natural barrier. That
let me relax my net and build a fire.
The warmth from the small blaze helped as I continued to weave a shelter
and climb into my bedroll. Gairloch s internal order and appearance indicated
he was far more accustomed to the hard weather than I, and finally I let go of
the weather screen and collapsed into sleep.
Whhheeee& uh&
The morning was gray, with windy gusts blowing the lighter snow into the
once-clear area and over all but the warmest of the fire s ashes.
Yee-ah! Yee-ah! The shrill call of the vulcrow jolted me full awake.
Through a half-haze of fine snow-fog and sleep, I lifted my head-and wished I
hadn t, as a line of fire split my skull down the middle.
 Ooooo&  mumbled a strange voice that resembled mine. The pain eased, but
did not cease as I let my head rest on the quilted fabric of the bedroll.
Whhhssssssss& Even the whisper of the snow echoed like thunder through my
skull.
My arms ached more than in the first days with Uncle Sardit, more than
after Tamra s drubbing me, more even than after Gilberto s hellish exercises.
 & ooooo&  I wished whoever was moaning would stop, but that didn t happen
until I realized I was the one doing the moaning.
Yee-ah! Yee-ah!
Wheeee& eeee& whuff&
Between the damned vulcrow sitting on the hedgerow and Gairloch suggesting
that it was either time to eat or get up, I eventually woke up and levered
myself into a sitting position, not even high enough to see over the wall and
the snow drifted above it.
My cheeks tingled from the cold, and ice crystals fell from the steam of my
breath. The fire in my skull not only burned; the bones surrounding my brain
felt like a smith s anvil pounded by an unrelenting hammer.
Thinking the water bottle might help, I reached through the powdery snow
for it, ignoring the minor arms cramps until I had it& and dropped it. Of
course the water had frozen solid.
The fire was warm ashes, nothing more, and light snow covered all but the
center cinders. How long it took to get the fire started, who could tell? My
fingers nearly froze, since I had never replaced the leather gloves I had
seared apart in Frven. The branches I had broken and set aside for fuel had
frozen together.
Gairloch whuffed and whinnied, and each whuff and whinny cut through my
ears like a knife. My legs cramped at each movement, and the wind blew out the
fire three times, besides flinging dry bitter flakes into my eyes whenever I
really needed to see something.
Order-use magic was out-that is, if I didn t want to finish destroying my
body-and it seemed impossible to get enough warmth to get some water and food
into my system.
On the other hand, I somehow doubted that much of a search for me was going
on, not for a while. So, after much flailing, the fire burned again, and I
found a small package of pressed grain which I fed to Gairloch. Except that I
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held it, half-leaning against him while he ate it.
In time, using the one battered skillet in the sack, I melted some of the
snow, _taking a few sips myself but letting Gairloch have most of it.
Then I ate-what, I m not sure, but it didn t matter that much-and crawled
back into my bedroll.
The fire was back to ashes when I woke again, and the sky was still covered
with the featureless gray clouds. The wind gusted, and my head still ached and
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