A Sword from Red Ice

Addie looked at Stillborn as if he was exactly the kind of person you didn't want on a stealth hunt. Which was probably true, "If you're not at the east rim an hour afore sunup I'm not waiting" was all the cragsman said in reply.

"Where's Traggis Mole?" Raif asked, instantly killing the easy camaraderie between them.

Stillborn's large deformed face, with its seam of flesh and black bristles running from the temple down to the neck, sobered. "He's about all right, though I've seen him less of late. He'll have been told you're here, but you know the Mole. Chooses his own time."

Raif nodded. It was probably a mistake to feel relief at that statement, but he couldn't help himself. Right now he wanted to pull his aching feet from his boots, and sleep.

Perhaps seeing this, Stillborn said, "Cmon, lad. Let's get you set for the night. You'd best stay with me. Addie. You didn't do half a bad job up there. I never knew you had the gift of the gab."

"Nor did I," Addie replied lightly before slipping away.

Stillborn picked up Raif s pack as if it weighed exactly nothing. Silently, he led Raif down the series of rope ladders and stairs that led to his cliff cave. Raif was grateful not to be probed or forced to think. He was dead tired and had stood so long in the sleet that his hands and face were tingling.

The Rift music started as they arrived on the lower terrace. Grass lamps had been lit and the city was aglow with orange lights. The Rift music made the flames flicker. Bass murmurs, low whistles and door-hinge creaks rose from the hole in the earth, punctuated by long silences and sudden rock tremors. Raif could no longer see the Rift, and was glad.

Stillborn's cave was accessed by a narrow ledge that was separated from the rimrock by a drop of three feet. The Maimed Man jumped down, careless of the hell that lay below him. Raif couldn't manage such recklessness just then. He moved with care, favoring his right foot, fearful of the drop and of his own ability to manage the simple maneuver. Stillborn went ahead to light lamps.

"Raif," he said a few minutes later as Raif stood in the mouth of the cave. "Sleep. There's blankets and a bowl of water for your feet. I'll be out on the ledge, scratching up a bit of a fire. I'll see you in the morning." Moving briskly, the Maimed Man passed Raif and left him to the dim quiet of the cliff cave.

Raif sat on the pile of blankets and pulled off his boots. Not looking too carefully, he sank his feet into the shallow bowl of cool water. Bite of rags that had stuck to the blisters slowly soaked free.

You are safe tonight. Stillborn had said in his own way. I will stand watch while you deep.

It was a gift, and Raif took it. Making a rough bed from the blankets, he closed his eyes and slept.

When he awoke the next morning it was still dark. Mist washing in through the mouth of the cave had coated every surface with a film of moisture. A single grass lamp burned on the rock floor by Raif's bed, its damp wick giving off as much smoke as light. Raif felt stiff but good. Rested and hungry. He could smell fatty meat charring and stood to investigate. His left ankle took weight with only a mild spasm of protest, though if anything it looked worse than it had in three days. The bruising had turned black and purple and for some reason his big toe had started to swell. He ignored it. It was a skill he was getting better at.

Stillborn was out on the ledge, hunched around a tiny little fire, a red blanket pulled tight across his shoulders, browning a length of cured sausage on a stick. He was shivering and talking to himself, saying the words, "Bloody, bloody, bloody. Sod it, sod it, sod it," in a weary voice that might have been intended to keep him awake. He wasn't aware of Raif standing at the mouth of the cave.

The sky had cleared and the stars were out over the clanholds, and Raif realized it was the first time he had seen stars that could be relied upon in over a month. The nights he'd spent in the canyonlands had been overcast. Starlight lit the domes of the Copper Hills and the sea of mist surrounding them. The Lost Clan was out there, and Dhoone. Quietly, Raif turned and stepped back into the cave.

This time he made more noise, banging the bronze bowl that contained the water and rifling through his pack for the items he meant to give Stillborn.

'You up, lazy-days?" came Stillbom's grumpy voice. "Come out here and watch the fire while I take a quick kip before we leave."

Raif understood the language here. Watch the fire meant simply watch. Crossing to the ledge he greeted Stillborn,

"What's this?" demanded the Maimed Man, staring suspiciously at the small packs and pouches that were squashed against Raif's chest.

Raif sat, letting the packages spill forward onto the rimrock. "Cheese, honey, dates, almonds, butter, dried apricots, lentils. Not the sheep's curd and the tea herbs, though. They're for Addie."