“All right,” I grumbled. River was making sense, and that was what annoyed me. He saw my expression and laughed.
“I can be patient sometimes,” he said.
We chose a spot that was as sheltered as possible to pitch our tent. Even still, with the rising wind and blowing snow, the tent flapped and shook so loudly that I doubted I would be getting any sleep that night. I found the bell Tem had used to block the winds in Winding Pass, and muttered the incantation. Nothing happened. I tried again, and the wind seemed to abate for a few seconds—though it may have been coincidence.
“You can put those away, Kamzin,” River said, smiling slightly. He made a gesture, and a drift of snow settled over the tent like a tea cozy. We dove inside, where it was so dark I could barely see my own hands. After some muttered cursing, River managed to light the lantern, suffusing the tent in a warm glow.
We ate our dinner in silence, cross-legged on our blankets. Once I had finished, and no longer had my hunger to occupy my thoughts, I began to feel awkward. I had known, when we made our plans, that River and I would be sharing his tent—it was impractical to bring two, given the limited weight we could carry. But only now was the realization of what that meant beginning to sink in.
River, for his part, did not seem awkward at all. He unearthed a small comb from his pack and started brushing Azar-at’s smoke fur, which had grown tangled during the day’s climb. He murmured to the fire demon periodically—I only caught the odd word over the howl of the wind. I suspected that Azar-at was replying, though the creature did not include me in the conversation.
“What are you talking about?” I said, yawning. The warmth of the tent was making me sleepy. Ragtooth had already dozed off in my lap. I scratched his belly, making his back foot twitch.
“Oh, this and that,” River said. “Azar-at thinks you climbed well today.”
“How nice,” I muttered.
River was quiet for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here, Kamzin. It’s selfish of me—but I’m glad.”
I smiled. “Well, someone has to be there to stop you from tumbling off a cliff because you’re paying more attention to the path ahead than you are to your feet.”
River laughed. It was a welcome sound, a contrast to the lonely moan of the wind. “I can be headstrong, it’s true. My brother Sky used to tease me about it. He said I wanted to run before I could walk. I was constantly driving our mother mad. Quite a few of my scars are from those days.”
The image of River Shara as a clumsy child, bumbling into things, made me laugh too. I lay down, drawing my blankets around me. “Are you close to your brothers?”
“Closer these days than we were. They’re much older than me—the youngest of the three is eight years my elder. I think that, for the most part, they saw me as more of a nuisance than a brother when we were growing up.”
I scratched Ragtooth’s chin. I could certainly understand that.
“I was desperate to win their approval,” River went on. “I followed them everywhere, particularly Sky. He was the most tolerant of me. To a point.”
“Did you fight often?”
“My brothers fought. They still do, though it’s not so innocent anymore. They are great men, but they care for little other than power.”
I tried to make out his expression in the darkness. It seemed to be a vague sort of grimace. Tem’s words came back to me. “And you don’t? Care about power, I mean.”
He gazed at me. “As a means to an end, it’s useful. But power for the sake of power is meaningless—empty air. I’ve never understood the appeal.”
We were quiet again. The falling snow tapped against the oilcloth like a visitor requesting entrance. My eyelids felt very heavy. I hovered at the edge of sleep, unwilling or unable to let it take me.
“I’m worried about Lusha,” I said quietly.
River shifted position. “Well, Mara’s never been the determined sort, though he’d claim otherwise. My guess is they encountered some difficulty and turned around.”
“That’s what Tem said.”
“Tem is probably right.”
“Aimo—” I faltered. “It was so quick. I can’t stop thinking about that. One minute she was behind me, and then—” I swallowed. “What if something like that happened to Lusha? What if she’s gone, and I never even had a chance to say good-bye?”
“It’s possible,” River said. “But either way, there’s nothing you can do now.”
Somehow, his calm acknowledgment brought me comfort, more than if he had denied my fears.
“Is there something else?” he said.
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t put my feelings into words. I only knew that, when I thought of Lusha, I felt fear, and worry, and anger at myself. There was something I was missing, I was sure of it.
River moved again. I couldn’t see him—it was too dark now, beneath our blanket of snow. Then he pressed his palm against the back of my hand, and we threaded our fingers together. My heart sped up, but I was tired, so tired. I turned on my side, trying to make out his outline in the darkness, even as my eyes drifted shut. As I fell asleep, my last memory was of a warm feeling of safety, the likes of which I hadn’t felt since leaving Azmiri.
NINETEEN
MY BREATH ROSE around me in billowing clouds, and my nose ran constantly. My hands were like claws clutching at my tools. I couldn’t feel my face.
River and I had just started up the ice wall. It was painfully slow going. I didn’t like using ropes, which I viewed as unnecessary interruptions to the rhythm of climbing, but River had insisted on it. I had to admit, grudgingly, that I was relieved. The Ngadi face wasn’t like anything I had faced before. I was beginning to wonder if it had an end—if so, I couldn’t see it through the clouds. Perhaps River and I would keep climbing until we hit the moon.
The weather was not much better than yesterday. It had stopped snowing, but the wind had lessened only slightly, and the clouds were low and threatening. River and I had debated waiting an hour or two to see if conditions improved, but had eventually decided to push on. When we set off, I shoved Ragtooth in my pack, despite his desire to stay wrapped around my shoulders like a smelly shawl—I couldn’t be distracted by him. Azar-at we left at the bottom, gazing up at us.
“He’ll meet us at the top,” was all River said.