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By Root 795 0

scuts of mountain hares playing on slopes and, once, a snow lynx, which surveyed them with a mixture of curiosity and scorn from below the road. It wasn’t long before their days assumed a pattern. The days were long and they rode from dawn to dusk, camping each evening in one of the many bays carved into the mountain walls for travelers — wide caves big enough to hold two caravans, which provided shelter from the worst weather. They protected themselves as best they could against the punishing cold of night, waking up often with frost in their hair and on their clothes. Maerad was more grateful than she could say for the winter clothes they had brought from Gent, which miraculously kept in their body heat, but even with these, the deep cold of the mountains made sleeping difficult. Very often there was wood stacked in the bays, left there by traveling Pilanel, and then they would light a fire; there was precious little firewood this high up.

The first time, their third night on the pass, Maerad was surprised to see the neat stack. “Can we take it?” she asked.

“These are for the use of travelers such as us,” said Cadvan. “Look at the wall.”

Carved into the rock next to the pile were two signs that looked very like Ladhen runes. Maerad examined them curiously: one, she thought, was the sign for light, the other she didn’t know. She looked at Cadvan, her eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“They’re slightly different from those the Bards use,” said Cadvan. “Bards adapted the Ladhen runes from the Pilanel, who use them all the time to communicate with each other from place to place. It means, roughly, that this wood is a gift to travelers in the name of the Light: that is the rune for Light, written over the rune for travel, and this the sign for an offering or gift.”

Cadvan began to build a fire, and when the flame leaped up in that dark cavern, Maerad felt better than she had for days. She took off her riding gloves, knitted of raw wool and lined with thick silk to keep out the cold, and stretched out her naked hands toward the warmth.

That night, Cadvan made a hot dinner, a stew of barley and dried meat, and the tension between them subsided slightly as they ate. Maerad could feel the cold outside the cavern growing as the sun disappeared.

“There will be a hard frost tonight,” said Cadvan as they tidied away the meal. “But I think we will strike good weather for the next few days.”

“It would be good to get through the pass without anything bad happening,” said Maerad somberly.

“Yes, it would,” said Cadvan. He was silent for a short time, and then he looked directly at Maerad, his eyes dark. “Maerad, we need to talk of what happened in Predan.” Maerad shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. “It troubled me deeply. But something within you is troubling me more.”

Maerad looked at him guardedly. “What?”

Cadvan poked the fire as if he needed to gather his thoughts. “It is not just that there is a willful death, a murder, on your conscience,” he said. “It is that there is about you something that makes me fear for you. Not just for you, but for the Light, for everything that both of us hold dear.” Cadvan gazed at her soberly. “It has troubled me since leaving Thorold. Maerad, some darkness grows on you. I can see it in your light.”

“In my light?” Maerad met his eyes, and then flinched away. “Well, I’ve been feeling a little — sad. So perhaps it makes me seem dimmer, or something. I noticed that with Silvia, whenever she was thinking about her daughter and was missing her.”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean that some darkness within you might be gathering itself. Not just a sadness, but an active malice, which you must learn how to resist. I fear what it might mean if we find ourselves again in peril. I don’t know what you might do.”

Maerad gasped as if he had hit her. Cadvan’s words bit deeply, striking her worst fears. “How can you say that?” she asked when she had recovered from her shock. “It’s not true. Oh, Cadvan, I know I did something wrong, but you are talking as if I am something evil myself. . . .”

“I did not say