ried for a short time, barely conscious of the motion, burdened
with a lethargy that threatened to suffocate her. The fever
burned through her, and she knew somehow that she would not
be able to shake it off. She fell asleep, woke to discover she was
lying wrapped in blankets, and promptly fell asleep again. She
came awake thrashing, and Garth held her and made her drink
something bitter and thick. She vomited it up and was forced
to drink it again. She heard Stresa say something about water,
felt a cool cloth on her forehead, and slept once more.
She dreamed this time. Tiger Ty was there, standing next to
Stresa, the two of them looking down on her, bluff and craggy
Wing Rider and sharp-eyed Splinterscat. They spoke in a similar
voice, rough and guttural, commenting on what they saw, speak-
ing of things she didn’t understand at first, and then finally of
her. She had the use of magic, they said to each other. It was
clear she did. Yet she refused to acknowledge it, hiding it as if
it were a scar, pretending it wasn’t there and that she didn’t need
it. Foolish, they said. The magic was all she had. The magic was
the only thing she could trust.
She awakened reluctantly, her body cool again, and the fe-
ver gone. She was weak, and so thirsty it felt as if all the liquids
in her body had been drained away. Pushing back the covers
that wrapped her, she tried to rise. But Garth was there in-
stantly, pressing her down again. He brought a cup to her lips.
She drank a few swallows-it was all she could manage-and lay
back. Her eyes closed.
When she came awake next, it was dark. She was stronger
now, her vision unclouded, and her sense of what was happening
about her clear and certain. Gingerly she pushed herself up on
one elbow and found Garth staring into her eyes. He sat cross-
legged beside her, his dark, bearded face creased and worn from
lack of sleep. She glanced past him to where Stresa lay curled
in a ball, then looked back again.
Are you better? he signed.
“I am,” she answered. “The fever is gone.”
He nodded. You have been asleep for almost two days.
“So long? I didn’t realize. Where are we?”
At the foot of Blackledge. He gestured into the darkness. We left
the In Ju after you collapsed and made camp here. The Splinterscat recog-
nized the sickness that infected you and found a root that would cure it. I
think without his help, you might have died.
She grinned faintly. “I told you it was a good idea to have
him come along.”
Go back to sleep. There are several hours still until dawn. If you are
well enough, we’ll go on then.
She lay back obediently, thinking that Garth must have kept
watch by himself for the entire time she was sick, that Stresa
would not have bothered, comfortable within the protection of
his own armor. A sense of gratitude filled her. Garth was always
there for her. She resolved that her giant friend would have the
sleep he deserved when it was night again.
She slept well and woke rested, anxious to resume their jour-
ney. She changed clothes, although nothing she carried was
clean by now, washed, and ate breakfast. At Garth’s insistence,
she took a few moments to exercise her muscles, testing her
strength for what lay ahead. Stresa looked on, by turns curious
and indifferent. She stopped long enough to thank the Splinters-
cat for his help in chasing the fever. He claimed not to know
what she was talking about. The root he had provided for her
did nothing more than to help her sleep. What had saved her
was her Elven magic, he growled, and spread his quills and trun-
dled off to find something to eat.
It took them all of that day and most of the next to climb
Blackledge, and it would have taken them much longer-if in-
deed they could have done it at all-without Stresa. Blackledge
was a towering wall of rock that ran along the Southwest slope