“Ragtooth!” I was astonished—how had he hurt a creature that had no substance? “How did you do that?”
The fox gave me an almost pitying look. He leaped lightly into my arms again, and took up his usual post on my shoulder, his teeth bared.
Mingma’s eyes narrowed. He looked as he had when I first saw him—any trace of regret was washed away, as if it had never been. All that remained was bitterness, raw as a wound.
I made a run for it, but one of the ghosts reached out with its ice-fog hand and tripped me. I landed hard, my hands scraping against the rock. The fox tumbled tail over snout until he collided with a rock and was still.
“Ragtooth!” I cried. I lurched toward him, but the ghosts were in the way, a swirling, whispering mass.
“Where are your companions?” Mingma’s voice was calm, as if I did not lie bleeding at his feet. “How many were you traveling with?”
“I have no idea where they are,” I spat. Let him think there were others besides River—let him think there was an army. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“We’ll find them,” Mingma said, nodding to the jeering ghosts. “As for you, Kamzin, I’m afraid we can’t have you escaping again.”
I drew myself to my feet. The ghosts surrounded me, blocking my path to the tunnel.
“How should we do it?” one of the ghosts demanded. “Throw her over the cliff?”
Mingma face darkened. “That’s an unpleasant end.”
“That’s the whole point,” the ghost said, but Mingma held up his hand, and they fell silent.
Mingma made another motion, and before I could even open my mouth, I was lifted in the air and borne to the back of the cave.
“Mingma!” I shouted. “Don’t do this, please—”
The sound of water grew louder. What was this? Did they intend to drown me? No sooner did I have the thought than I was falling onto a sheet of ice that cracked under my weight.
The cold hit me like a boulder, and I was breathless, gasping. Water flooded my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I was choking. Dying.
I pushed at the ice that closed over me—it was thin, and my fist punched through it. But the ghosts were all around, drifting through the water, pulling me down as I fought to rise.
Forbidden, they whispered. Forbidden.
After what felt like an age, my head broke the surface. I choked on the air as if it too were a foreign element. Tremors wracked my body.
They had dropped me in a shallow pool, fed by some unseen stream that trickled out of the rocks. But I was clumsy, as if I had suddenly become twice my normal weight, pulled down by my boots, now filled with ice water, and my sodden clothing.
I tried to swim, each breath rattling in my lungs. The ghosts swirled through the water like luminous ink, tugging at my chuba, pulling me under again. I fought my way to the surface, choking on a scream.
Mingma stood by the edge of the pool, watching. Other ghosts hovered in the air, whispering together.
“Don’t do this,” I croaked.
“Don’t worry,” Mingma said. “This way isn’t so bad, really. Soon you won’t feel anything. And then, before you know it, you’ll be one of us.” He almost seemed to smile, and I saw a hint of the man I had glimpsed before. “I think I’ll enjoy the change of company.”
The cold burrowed inside me. It was as if my very bones had frozen. Even if I could drag myself out of the water, I was doomed without a blazing fire and dry clothes. The only question now was how long it would take for the cold to defeat me—to slow my limbs, and then my breath. My mind flashed to the story of what River had done to an enemy—taken his cloak and left him bound in the snow. That sort of death was slow, but as sure as an arrow to the heart. The cold was death itself—this had been drilled into me, and all the village children, since we could speak.
A look of understanding passed over Mingma’s face. “It’s all right, Kamzin. You don’t need to be afraid.”
Anger made my sluggish blood quicken. “No, but you do,” I forced out through my teeth. “When River finds you—”
“No one will come for you,” he said. He knelt beside me, his voice a hiss. “You think I enjoy this? You think I want to watch you die? I’m trapped, Kamzin. As trapped as you are.”
“I think you don’t even try,” I snapped. Each word caught in my throat, but I forced them out anyway. “I think you’re bitter because you’re stuck here—and now you want me to suffer the way you have.”
Mingma drew himself up, his expression hard. “You don’t understand. But you will, soon enough.”
“Kamzin?”
I was seized by a desperate relief. “River!” My voice broke, barely above a whisper. “I’m here!”
A light trembled along the tunnel, growing stronger and stronger, and then River burst into view, one hand cupped beneath a hovering flame. He halted, seeming to take in the scene before him—the ghosts, the dark cave, the pool of ice.
“Hello, River,” the dead explorer said. “Nice of you to stop by and save us the effort of capturing you.”
“Mingma, I presume?” River transferred the flame to his other hand. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you.”
The two explorers gazed at each other like contorted mirror images in their tahrskin chubas. Both wore the pale side, so that they seemed like two smudges of light against the darkness.
“Let her go,” River said, his voice quiet but carrying.
The ghosts made no reply. Slowly, they drifted closer to River, keeping to the shadows. They were all eyeing the flame in his hand—ghosts hated light, it was true, but was that hatred strong enough to protect him? He did not flinch as they surrounded him.
Mingma let out a short, harsh laugh. “You can’t be the Royal Explorer, surely? How ridiculous. Is the emperor hiring children now? Things were much different in my day.”
“Your day is long gone,” River replied. “It’s time you moved on.”
“Past time.” The bitterness entered Mingma’s tone again. “What difference does it make?”
Something like regret crossed River’s face. He raised his hand, and the flame burned brighter. The ghosts stopped their advance—some even took a step back. The flame rose into the air, a sphere of white light. It struck the ceiling of the cavern, where it grew and grew, hovering like a massive chandelier, sending small flames cascading down.
The ghosts shrieked, diving for the shadows. Mingma let out a cry of anger as he too retreated to the edge of the cavern.
River flashed me a smile, and then he was gone, darting down one of the tunnels, away from the light. The ghosts poured after him.
I hauled myself out of the ice-water, my fingers so numb it took three tries before I could maintain my hold. I tried to stand, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t feel my feet; they clung to my legs like stone blocks.
“Kamzin.”
I started. A hand touched my shoulder; mismatched eyes peered into mine. “River, how—”
“Azar-at is leading the ghosts on a chase,” he said. “A distraction—we don’t have much time. Can you move?”