The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,41
I finished this damn job and at long last fulfilled my debt to Sethan...then I planned on disappearing into the Whitefires and letting clean stone and sunlight scour these last few Shaikar-cursed weeks from my head.
Kiran’s face said he didn’t believe me about the flowers. “Why are all the peaks named after southern demons?” he asked.
“Because they’re beautiful, unforgiving, and can kill you on a whim,” Cara said, grinning at him.
“They’re not all named after demons,” Jerik said. “But before Arkennland claimed this territory, the only people who came up here were southerners. Sulanians, Varkevians, even a few of the Kaitha. They named most of the peaks on the eastern side of the range, and their names stuck. Our name for the mountains, Whitefire, is actually a translation of an old Varkevian word for lightning. They saw the summer storms and thought it must be demons fighting.”
It was the longest speech I’d ever heard from him. Cara gave a small, surprised snort. “History lessons aside, I think the convoy’s safe as far as Ice Lake. We’ll do some fracture testing and another layer check on the lakeside slopes, but so far the risk past the lake looks low. Agreed?”
Jerik nodded. “If deep layers go, it’s usually earlier in the season.”
I nodded my own assent. The risk was small enough that Meldon was sure to choose to continue. Thank Khalmet, we’d have no delays in reaching Kost. Every day brought Melly closer to her Change. The faster I finished this job and got back to Ninavel, the better.
“What would happen if you thought it was dangerous?” Kiran asked me.
“Depends on how dangerous,” I said. “Medium risk, Meldon might send wagons through with much wider spacing. That way if a slide happens, hopefully you only lose one. High risk, we might wait at the lake a couple extra days, try and give things time to settle.”
Cara handed Kiran the spyglass. “Here, Kellan, take a look.” She looked at me. “Go on, tell the kid the signs to watch for.”
It was the first thing she’d said direct to me in hours. At least she was meeting my eyes now. Progress, of a kind.
I did my best to repeat what Sethan had told me on my first trip out, while Kiran surveyed the couloirs with studious precision. Sethan had been a patient and careful teacher, with a real gift for explaining things in ways that made sense and were easy to remember. I knew I was way too impatient to match his skill in that area. Fortunately, I didn’t really need it for this little charade Kiran and I were playing out, though Kiran was an excellent listener. He never twitched or fidgeted or sighed, and his attention never wandered. The intensity of his focus actually unsettled me. It didn’t seem natural for a highsider. Though in truth the only other highsiders I’d met were drunken idiots who’d stumbled down streetside for gambling and cheap jennies.
Kiran, on the other hand...after I’d seen his fine clothes and smooth hands in Bren’s office, I’d dreaded the idea of dragging him across the Whitefires. I’d figured either I’d be stuck listening to an endless stream of complaints, or he’d collapse under the demands of real work. Instead, so far I had to admit he’d done a decent imitation of a real apprentice. Hell, sometimes I even caught myself having fun showing him the ropes, and anticipating his moments of bright-eyed wonder. I scowled, reminding myself that it didn’t matter. So he was better company than I’d imagined—so what? In the end, this was a job like any other, and I’d better keep it straight in my head that he was only another package to deliver.
***
(Kiran)
Kiran clambered over the enormous boulders that choked the approach to Ice Lake. He darted a glance back toward the cirque’s mouth, but the ragged sea of rocks blocked his view of the convoy’s camp beside the trail. Traversing talus this large was more difficult than he’d anticipated; he might as well be crawling rather than walking. If Pello possessed any of Dev’s easy agility, he’d surely catch up at any moment.
A thread of unease wormed through his chest. Kiran suppressed it, firmly. Pello was untalented, blind to the distinctive blaze of a mage’s ikilhia. He couldn’t possibly identify Kiran as a mage from a few short minutes of conversation, no matter how observant he was. The rest of what he might learn was trivial by comparison.