Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [262]
The same young Vralian was there milking the goats. "Why?" I said aloud to him. "If the Rebbe disapproves, why aid me? Wouldn't it be better to let me wander in the wilderness without succor and let God's will decide?”
The Vralian didn't answer; I wasn't even sure what language I'd spoken in. But he looked at me with grave eyes and offered me a dipperful of warm goat's milk. I sighed and shook my head. I could guess how the Rebbe would have answered my question.
It is my duty.
As I had mine, more arduous and distasteful with each day that passed. I led my horse into the courtyard. It was a clear day. The courtyard hadn't been swept yet, and the sun was bright on the new-fallen snow. Beyond lay a vast tract of woods, dense and pathless. I stooped and touched the ground.
"Blessed Elua, Mighty Kushiel, hear your scion," I murmured. "I cannot search forever. If it is your will that I find him, let it be swift. And if it is your will that I spare him, I pray you make it known to me.
There was no answer, but then, there seldom was.
I rose and continued my quest.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
I didn't count the days.
What was the point? I had no fixed destination. I rode back and forth across the cold, snowy land, seeking any sign of Berlik; any sign of human habitation. I measured the passage of time by my dwindling supplies. I gauged my position by keeping sight of a particular peak of the Narodin Mountains, hook-shaped and distinctive. There would come a time when I could simply search no more, and would have to seek civilization or starve.
The sun rose and fell.
I kept searching.
I ate as little as I dared, but I had to be careful. If I was too weary at the end of the day to make a proper campsite, I ran the risk of freezing. I could hunt if it came to it, but I was short of arrows and hunting wouldn't feed my mount.
He was a good horse, patient and willing. I doled out grain in handfuls. I could abandon him, I supposed, and continue on foot. I wasn't sure I had the skills for it. I wasn't sure I had the heart for it. It wasn't just the cruelty. It felt like I'd been alone for a long, long time. Without the company of one single living creature, I wasn't sure I could continue.
There was a certain peace to it, though. The Vralian wilderness was rugged and gorgeous. My nameless mount and I plodded through pine forests, breaking a trail through deep snow. We scrambled up rocky inclines, and I caught my breath at the splendor of the vistas revealed at the tops. Pine forest spread like an endless carpet, the temple of Miroslas long ago swallowed by it. The tall, jagged peaks of the Narodin Mountains in the background. Frozen lakes, windswept and serene.
There was a good deal of wildlife in the wilderness. I saw foxes and rabbits, their pelts turned a snowy white for winter. Other animals I couldn't name, low and quick, with dark, luxurious fur and bright, curious eyes. Twice, a herd of deer like no other deer I'd seen, tall and deep-chested, with splendid antlers.
No Berlik.
Days passed, one after the other. Sunny days, cloudy days. Betimes it snowed too hard to see, and we were forced to hunker down and wait until it passed. I grew skilled at building windbreaks and shelters dug into deep snow to hold my body warmth, and learned to carry my waterskin filled with snowmelt inside my clothing so it wouldn't freeze during the day. My stolen mount grew shaggy. We slogged through snow and clambered over rock. Uncounted days turned into weeks. I don't know how many leagues Miroslas' holdings encompassed, but they were immense. And aside from the wildlife, they were utterly uninhabited.
There was no sign of Berlik anywhere.