when Thirrin finally set off with an escort of ten cavalry troopers to collect Oskan. Several degrees of frost had settled over the city, and as the horses made their way down from the castle and through the streets, the rattle of their iron-shod hooves sounded sharp and brittle in the freezing air. The spicy scent of wood smoke filled the narrow streets as people fed their fires with logs and branches, and ice sparkled everywhere over the roofline so that Frostmarris looked like a city of black crystal reflecting the cold, shining beauty of the moonlit night. But still the snows hadn’t come, and now the skies were clear of the clouds that had lowered over the city, allowing the temperatures to drop so far below freezing that the horses’ breath settled around their muzzles and reins in a fine gauze of ice crystals as delicate as lace.
Thirrin and the cavalry troopers all wore thick furs over their armor, and they trotted through the streets at a brisk pace, hoping to warm themselves and the horses as quickly as possible. The roads were almost deserted, as each household had shut its doors against the bitter cold and was preparing for Yule. Even the taverns were relatively quiet in these last hours before the dawn. Then, with the first light of the morning, the traditional songs would be sung and the wild celebrations would begin. But now every tiny sound was magnified on the freezing air, so that Thirrin’s small escort sounded like an entire regiment of horses.
At last they reached the main gate and were quickly allowed through by the guard. They clattered through the long tunnel of the barbican, then drew rein as they looked out at the land beyond the city walls. Before them lay the plain of Frostmarris, silent and brooding under the cold silver of the moonlit night. Far off in the distance a wolf howled, giving a voice to the quiet, and Thirrin shivered. The packs were hungry and had come down from the mountains to raid the outlying farms. No human being had ever been taken, but people feared for their cattle, and the old legends of wolf attack always came to mind when the packs howled in the cold of winter. Thirrin urged her mount forward down the steep track that led to the flat plain, then, as she reached level ground, she shook the reins and her horse leaped forward. The bitter cold of the night was increased to biting steel by the wind of her speed, and she crouched down behind the stallion’s neck as they thundered across the plain. Behind her the cavalry troopers kept pace, spreading out in a wide fan, like a living cloak that flowed behind the head of the Princess. They could have followed the broad road that swept northward to the cities of Pendris and Wearford, which nestled on the farthest northern border of the Icemark. But instead Thirrin led them across the winter fields, leaping hedgerows and ditches in a wild gallop through the night.
In the distance lay the forest, like a dark bank of clouds threatening a storm. It slowly loomed larger as the horses galloped across the fields, and after twenty minutes or so Thirrin reined back to a canter and finally to a brisk trot as they reached the first outlying trees. As they entered the true eaves of the forest, she stopped and waited while each of the troopers took out his tinderbox and prepared to light a pitch-soaked torch. She sat and stared ahead into the ancient gloom of the trees. The forest at night was very different from the woodland of the day. Not all of the supernatural creatures of the darkness had been banished to The-Land-of-the-Ghosts after the Battle of the Wolfrocks, quite simply because not all of them could be found. And of those that had stayed behind, many had set up home here in the deep shadows of the crowding trees.
After a few minutes Thirrin’s eyes grew accustomed to the deeper levels of dark, and the beautiful black-and-white mosaic of moonlight filtering through the trees became visible in all its subtle brilliance. But then the sudden flare of the torches bursting into flame drove back the sight, and darkness crowded around the circle of light they carried with them.
They found the path that would eventually meander to Oskan’s cave, and pushed on briskly. The troopers began to sing a cavalry song, but their voices