Cold Magic

“What does it mean,” I asked, “to walk the dreams of dragons?”



He smiled with an edge of triumph, as young men would do when they know they’re about to win a victory over a rival. “Ask the scholars of Adurnam. I can’t tell you.”



“Can’t, or won’t?”



“In this matter, there is no difference.”



“You’re leaving.”



“I must be seen to be hunting.”



“Seem to be? Is this some new scheme to trap me?”



“I could tell you that I’ve changed my mind. That I won’t kill you. But you’d be foolish to believe anything I told you.”



I laughed, and his cheeks darkened. “Why this fine speech, Andevai?”



A bored and superior expression transformed his face, reminding me forcibly of our first meeting when he had appeared scornful and distant. But other emotions besides arrogance and disdain might trigger such a mask as he tried to conceal what surged in his heart.



He spoke in a throttled voice I could barely hear. “By their actions, by hiding you and aiding you when they know perfectly well what my situation is, the elders of my village have shamed me into considering what constitutes right behavior. They made a decision to risk themselves rather than offend the ancestors. To hand over a guest is to spit in the face of the elders. To murder someone who is innocent just because she stands in the way of grasping at a treasure is wrong. I must act in the manner my people have shown me is right.”



“He who tries to wear two hats will discover he does not have two heads. Are you a magister or a village man?”



“That’s what Duvai has always taunted me with. Maybe it’s true, but even Duvai can’t see a bird in the air and know whether it harbors an egg in its nest.”



“Whatever that means! Strange of you to speak so highly of your village elders, only after your sword drew my blood and I did not collapse dead at your feet. Had I died, then your touching and heartfelt protestations would not sound so sweet to my ears, would they? For, indeed, in that case, I would not be around to hear them at all!”



If a man could look more imperious and contemptuous than he did at this moment, I would have been surprised to hear it. “Maybe I did not realize what I was capable of. Maybe, afterward, I was sorry to have found out!”



I was trembling, my hands in fists and my eyes stinging. “Are you saying you regret trying to kill me?”



He looked away. “I make no excuses. It’s done.”



The male cat nudged my back with his head, the smooth, hard curve of one of his incisors sliding against my shoulder. I leaned back, feeling peculiarly safe.



Andevai looked back at me, at the big cat, at the rest of the saber-tooths over by the well. He coughed slightly, clearing his throat as before a speech. “If I can draw the chase to the toll roads and rivers, I’ll do so. If I can draw the net away from Anderida, I’ll do so. In that case, a person fleeing in the direction of Adurnam might do well to travel one of Anderida’s quiet old roads. Once the eldest Barahal daughter reaches her majority, we have no hold over her, by the terms of the contract.”



The djeli drew a long, pure melody out of her fiddle, but paused before it came to a cadence, holding the bow from the strings as if not sure what came next.



Visibly startled, Andevai turned to her. “What is that?” he demanded.



“It’s the payment you have made to me,” she said with a considering look first at the fiddle, as if it were hiding something from her, and then at him. “By telling me your story. It’s not quite ready yet, but this song will be yours when it is earned.” A tone lingered on the breeze, more felt than heard.



He hesitated, as might a hound suddenly realizing it faces a wolf. “Then you have received a fair payment, for the shelter I’ve received here?”



“I have received what is fair,” she agreed. “Where are you going?”



“Back to the mortal world. And you?”



“I stay where I am bound, as I must. Later, perhaps, we will meet.”



“Perhaps we will meet another day. Until then, let your day be well.”



“And your day, likewise.”



Leave-takings could take as long as greetings, but in the end he walked to the oak, ducked under its canopy, and returned leading the mare. I realized at that moment that I was not going to set the cats on him.



Walking past me, he spoke. “I left what is yours under the oak. Do what you must, Catherine. I will do as I must.”



“Wait,” I said. “I don’t know how to get back—”