The Whitefire Crossing - By Courtney Schafer Page 0,46
than he wanted to admit. Though his face and manner showed no hint of disquiet, his eyes sought out Cara whenever her attention was elsewhere.
To Kiran’s relief, there was no sign of Pello. Doubtless he’d first attempt to send a message about Kiran’s identity to whoever in Ninavel held the twin to his charm. Then he’d wait for his contact to exploit the information and reply. How long, before Pello realized no response would come? One day, two? Kiran had to confront him again before then, and without Dev knowing it. No easy task. Dev was a light sleeper, and during the day he rarely left Kiran’s side. Perhaps during the morning bustle of packing up tarps and gear, Kiran could slip away and put his plan into action.
His resolution wavered at the memory of Pello’s sharp eyes and knowing grin. He’d have to choose his threats with care, and deliver them with every ounce of arrogant confidence he could muster.
Well, he’d had an excellent role model in that regard. All his life he’d watched the untalented cower under Ruslan’s burning gaze. Surely he could imitate enough of that mixture of supreme confidence and utter contempt to convince Pello the menace was real.
***
The outrider wagon jounced out of the shadow of the cirque’s cliffs into bright midmorning sunlight. Kiran pulled off his woolen cap and turned his face up to the sun, reveling in the sudden warmth. The day had dawned clear and bitterly cold, and he’d shivered his way through his chores with many longing thoughts of Ninavel’s sunbaked heat.
The morning had brought no chance to seek out Pello. Dev’s eyes never left Kiran, and he stuck closer than ever, as if he had some inkling of Kiran’s intent. But at breakfast, Cara had announced that Dev and Jerik would do separate, solo climbing scouts that evening. Dev hadn’t looked happy, but he’d had no choice but to agree. Kiran had resolved to seize the opportunity. Throughout the long morning ride, he’d imagined countless paths the encounter might take, and considered hundreds of carefully phrased threats.
The wagon jerked to a halt, nearly unseating Kiran from the outboard. He snatched at a supply sack to regain his balance. “We’re stopping again?” He couldn’t help the pained tone of the question. He’d already lost count of the number of stops they’d had as the convoy crawled along the southern side of the basin. At this rate, they wouldn’t see the border for weeks.
“Told you there’d be lots of repairs today.” Dev stood in his stirrups and peered over the wagon’s stacked crates. “We’ve hit the Desadi Couloir. That’s a wide one, still full of snow. Maybe an hour’s work for today’s crew to compact the snow and put down planks so the wagons can cross.” Dev slouched back in his saddle and began idly retying a broken cord on one of his waterskins. His pinto mare stood patiently, her eyes half-lidded.
Kiran leaned back on a bulging sack. Towering rock crags loomed above, their massive heights buried in snow. The sky was a deep and dazzling blue, in stark contrast to the blinding white of the ridge. On the steep slope below the trail, oddly contorted pinnacles twisted skyward from the talus like isolated monoliths. Any other day the grand scenery would capture all of his attention. Instead, his thoughts turned back to Pello. What would a shadow man find most intimidating?
A faint wash of magic rippled past his barriers, like the echo from a distant shout. Kiran scrambled upright, his heart accelerating. He strained his senses. Had Ruslan—
A sharp crack split the air. Dev jerked to attention in the saddle, the waterskin falling from his hands. He twisted to stare at the peaks above. The drovers on the wagon behind him mirrored his frozen pose, faces all pointing up and leftward.
Kiran’s inner senses were silent. “Dev, what—”
Dev cut him off with a harsh gesture. He kept his gaze on the peaks, one hand shading his eyes. Kiran saw only rock and snow and a small puff of cloud, spiraling upward to the indigo sky.
“Suliyya, mother of maidens...” Dev whispered. The fear in his voice stiffened Kiran’s spine. He opened his mouth, only to be silenced by a piercing whistle from Dev. The shrill sound was echoed by another, and a bell clanged out an alarm from the front of the convoy.
Avalanche! With terrible clarity, Kiran saw Ruslan’s intent. Unless he could reach safety in time, he’d have no choice but to