Lusha gave me a look. “I’m telling you now. There are other people here who need your help more than River Shara.”
I bit my lip and did not argue. I melted another flask of snow, then took over watching Tem while Lusha lay down, her arm pressed over her eyes and her face pale. Tem stirred when I touched his face, but did not wake. Sadly, I put the healing herbs aside, not trusting my abilities even with them.
Mara returned an hour later, his expression dark. Fat snowflakes clung to his hair and beard. “I saw no sign of his trail,” he said. “I climbed onto a boulder to try to sight him, but I couldn’t make out any human shapes either above or below us. The visibility was deteriorating, so I turned back.”
I felt a surge of panic. “What about the ridge? I could—”
“There’s nothing more we can do in this weather,” Lusha said. “You and Mara can search again once this lets up. Until then, please help me with the fire.”
I bit back a retort. It would do no good to quarrel with Lusha. Yet I was certain something was wrong. As I stirred the ashes of the fire, trying to rouse the few remaining embers enough to melt one last pot of snow, I gazed up at the peak of the mountain. It was hidden from sight, but every once in a while I caught a glimpse of its jagged outline through the cloud.
As the storm worsened, Lusha and I took shelter in the cave. Mara stayed with Tem—his injuries were too raw to risk moving him. I shivered in my blankets, hungry and exhausted and out of sorts, as well as sick with worry. The snow fell in thick, roiling curtains from the dark cloud that surrounded us. The wind howled dully, rising every few moments to tremendous gusts that pummeled the mountain until it shook. I wished my sister would speak, but Lusha’s eyes were half-closed, her face pale; she seemed occupied with her pain.
I shifted position restlessly. My feet still ached, a dull, wearying throb, and something was digging into my neck. I reached beneath the blanket, expecting to find a rock. Instead, I discovered the bundle of string River had been preoccupied with.
My lower lip trembled as I unfolded the bundle on the cave floor. It wasn’t the ratty mess River had been peering into; he had somehow shaped the strings into an intricate looping pattern. Against the dark cave floor, the pale bundle reminded me of the lillies and orchids he had summoned out of the darkness as we sat together toasting his nineteenth birthday. It seemed like so long ago now.
My eyes stung with tears. River had placed this in my bed last night—he must have. What did it mean? And where was he now?
Why had he left me?
The wind rose again. Suddenly, the air was split by a tremendous crash, followed by muffled shouting.
It was coming from the tent.
“Tem!” Tossing my blankets back, I dashed out of the cave.
Tem lay exposed to the storm, his arms raised as if to push it back. The tent was in tatters around him, having been torn off the bamboo poles. Part of the fabric, still buffeted by the wind, was wrapped around his injured leg, and he was yelling in pain. Mara, in his socks in the blowing snow, was attempting to unwind the fabric.
I raced to Mara’s side. Together, we freed Tem from the remains of the tent. The scraps floated away like monstrous bats. We lifted Tem, blankets and all, and carried him into the cave. I tried to be careful of his broken ribs, but to no avail. His body went limp in my arms—he had fainted from the pain. Lusha helped me settle Tem on the floor, and then Mara dashed back into the storm in search of the supplies that had been in the tent. He returned with only two satchels.
“We lost the rest of the blankets,” Mara said.
“What about the other tents?” I demanded. “Are you saying you only brought one?”
“We left most of our supplies with Dargye,” Lusha said. “We didn’t think we’d be on the mountain for long.”
“You might be right about that,” I said grimly. Being stranded without food was one thing—a person would be fine for a few days, if they were fit and strong. But lacking reliable shelter was something else entirely, in an environment where even one night of exposure to the cold meant frostbite or worse.
How would we survive now? How had everything fallen apart so utterly and completely?
No one spoke for a long time. With four people in the cave, not to mention two sleeping dragons, it was warm, almost too warm. I shrugged my chuba off and tucked it under Tem’s head. I was fighting back tears. I stroked his head, praying for him to wake up soon. It was a selfish hope—Tem was much better off asleep, in his condition—but I couldn’t help it.
Lusha leaned against Mara, who seemed to be occupying himself with a longing examination of the top of her head. She fiddled with something, moving it back and forth between the palms of her hands.
Our mother’s statue. She had carried it all this way. I swallowed as tears blurred my vision.
Our eyes met. For a moment, I didn’t think she was going to speak, but then she said, “Would you like to hold it? It’s strange, but I find it helps somehow. At times when everything around you seems dark.”
I took the little statue gingerly. It was barely the length of my palm. It looked nothing like my mother, of course—my mother, with her broad shoulders and callused hands, and a laugh that seemed to shake the very ground.
I thought about what Lusha had said, about the statue bringing her comfort. But it was cold against my hand, cold and heavy and unyielding. I could find no comfort in it.
Mara leaned forward suddenly, his hand pressed to his eyes.
“Are you all right?” I said.
“Yes,” the chronicler said tersely. Lusha touched his shoulder.
“He gets these headaches sometimes,” she said tiredly. “Tem thinks they’re connected to the memory spell. They’ve been worse since Tem tried to fix him.”
The memory spell. My mind drifted back to Chirri’s lessons. Oddly, I had paid more attention than usual to her lecture on these spells and their counterspells, perhaps because I had felt so resentful toward the old woman for laughing at my attempts to retrieve my own memories.
“When did Tem last try?” I said.
“This morning,” Mara said, rubbing his eyes. “Felt like a hammer against my skull.”
I heard Chirri’s voice in my mind. “We should try again.”
“Why?” Mara said. “Tem couldn’t—”
“I know an incantation,” I said. “Tem might be able to use it to get Mara’s memories back.”
Lusha sighed. “What does it matter now? We have more important things to worry about. Like staying alive.”
“I know,” I said. “But we should at least try.”
“I thought you believed River.”
I felt a sharp pain. “River’s gone. He left. I don’t know what I believe anymore. If Mara’s memories can help make sense of all this, we need to get them back.”
“Kamzin.” Lusha pressed her chapped lips together. “Tem’s in no condition—”
“I’ll try it,” said a wan voice.
“Tem!” I knelt at his side. “How are you feeling?”