dressed warmly enough to spend a night on the ground.
After they finished drinking, Timozel surprised Faraday by producing a short knife from
his boot and asking her to cut his hair for him. It was too long, he complained, and the curls were
flopping in his eyes. She did the best she could, hacking away at his thick brown hair with the
knife, cutting it so that it lay flat against his scalp. After she finished Timozel took the knife from her hands and scraped away at his two-day-old growth of beard, but without hot water to assist
him he left a dark shadow spreading across his cheeks. Sitting back watching him scrub at his
cheeks with the knife, Faraday pondered that the Timozel sitting in the deepening dusk seemed
vastly older and more self-possessed than the youth she had shared the long ride from Carlon to
the ancient Barrows with.
Yr also sat, chin in hand, a thoughtful expression on her face as she regarded Timozel.
The experience below had changed him in some undefinable way, she mused, but, unlike
Faraday, she wondered if the change was more than just the simple maturing of a youth into a
man. The Halls of the StarFarers had done stranger things before than merely make a youth grow
up.
During the walk north through the night the small group were buffeted by freezing head
winds which made them shiver and stumble. Jack kept them moving, striding at their head with
the staff held high, his pigs trotting along at his heels. Timozel had resumed his appointed place
by Faraday‘s side, supporting her whenever she lost her footing, and sometimes lending a hand
to Yr as well. No-one felt like talking; it took all their energy simply to keep placing one foot in
front of the other.
The plains of western Arcness were as barren of life as the plains of Tarantaise had been.
Most of these southern plains were used as grazing lands for cattle and sheep during the summer
months, but as winter approached the shepherds and cattlemen drove their herds closer to the
scattered villages for protection. According to Jack, only a few hardy pig herds still roamed the
plains, and even they would be heading for their winter shelters soon enough.
Timozel, when he‘d still had breath for conversation, had asked Jack where they were
going, and how he planned on getting Faraday to Gorkenfort.
―North,‖ Jack had replied tersely. ―We head north in as direct a line as possible. If we can
reach Tailem Bend on the River Nordra we may be able to hire horses at Jervois Landing for the
last part of the journey through Ichtar. The route to Gorkenfort is well-marked and Duke
Borneheld has, over the past few years, established plentiful supply stations along the way. With
luck there should be few problems.‖
Timozel asked why Jack and Yr didn‘t simply take Faraday to one of the major towns or
forts, perhaps Kastaleon, or even back to Carlon, where they could hire the type of transport her
rank entitled her to. Jack looked at him as though he were a muddle-headed youth. ―Because
no-one would understand her desperate desire to reach Borneheld,‖ he snapped. ―They‘d do their
utmost to prevent her going any further north than the safety of Carlon.‖
Timozel nodded quietly to himself. It was the answer he‘d expected. He was not at all
comfortable with this lonely journey north, and not at all comfortable with the companions that
he and Faraday had landed. But if nothing else, Timozel understood Faraday‘s wish to be with
Borneheld. Every Lady needed her Lord beside her and fretted the days while they were apart.
They had worked out a cover story should anyone meet them by chance in this lonely
spot. The Lady Faraday, her maid Yr, and her escort had been heading across the plains of
Arcness towards Arcen when they had been hit by the dreadful storm of several days previously.
Timozel was the only one of her escort to escape the ice spears. All their horses had been killed.
Lost in the featureless rolling plains, they had been spotted by Jack, driving his pigs north to
shelter for the winter in the hills of the Bracken Range. Genial good-hearted fellow that he was,
Jack was leading them towards closest civilisation, the towns of Rhaetia to the north-west. It was a slender story, but it would have to do.
Jack let them rest again just as dawn was breaking to the east. Faraday had spent the last
half a league leaning heavily on Timozel for support, while Yr had started to stumble badly
every forty or fifty paces, grazing the skin from her hands and knees as she tumbled to the
ground time after time. They huddled together in a tight group in the lee of a small rise, pigs
gathered about, trying to keep as warm as they could in the freezing wind. Faraday clenched her
chattering teeth. She would have to make the journey worthwhile; Axis‘ life depended on her
keeping Borneheld‘s jealous temper under control. She wondered where Axis might be now, but
was too exhausted to pursue the thought. Her head dropped on Timozel‘s shoulder and she
lapsed into unconsciousness.
No sooner had she closed her eyes than Jack was calling for them to wake up and start
walking again. Her aching body protesting, Faraday struggled to her feet. Timozel wrapped his
arm about her waist, she was not sure whether to support her or to keep himself upright. Yr, head
and shoulders slumped, could barely keep step behind them as they started to walk again. Once
or twice Faraday heard a muffled thump behind her, but when she turned her head Yr was
struggling to her feet again, a determined look on her smooth face. Jack was the freshest of them
all, used to tramping these plains in all kinds of weather, though even he stumbled occasionally.
It was close to mid-morning when Jack finally waved them to a halt. Timozel and
Faraday were in such a catatonic state, their bodies and minds attuned only to putting one foot
before the other, that they almost crashed into Jack. Yr likewise stumbled into their backs, and
Timozel reached around and put his arm about her to keep her from falling.
―There,‖ Jack said, his voice showing signs of terrible strain, his hand too tired to do
more than wave vaguely before them. ―There. Goodman and Goodwife Renkin‘s farm.‖
Faraday peered ahead. About five hundred paces away lay a small farmlet nestled in a
small dip in the plains. Tidy fields and gardens surrounded a long, low stone house, its thatched
roof in good repair. A small amount of smoke came from the chimney, only to be whipped away
in the gusting wind. She gritted her teeth and started walking. She hoped they had both fire and
beds.
Goodman and Goodwife Renkin had both and more to offer. Startled from their
comfortable spot by the fire, they hastened to the door to find their friend Jack Simple standing
there with an exhausted noblewoman, her maid and, by Artor, an Axe-Wielder as escort! Apart
from Jack‘s muddled explanation about finding the trio wandering the plains after the dreadful
storm days before, all were clearly too exhausted to talk, so Goodwife Renkin hastened the two
women to the big bed built against the far wall, while the Axe-Wielder and Jack slumped down
on the wide wooden benches that ran along the wall by the fire, asleep almost before the
Goodwife could throw blankets over them. For a moment the Goodman and his Goodwife
simply looked at each other in amazement, then the Goodwife shrugged prosaically and walked
over to the larder. She would have to bake some more bread if they were to have so many guests
at once.
Faraday had never dreamed so wonderfully before. She was so happy, so free from pain
and care. She sat in an exquisite grove, surrounded by trees that stretched into infinity above her
and yet, when she raised her head to look, beyond them spun myriad stars almost as
breathtaking as those of the Star Gate. She looked down. She was sitting cross-legged on sweet,
cool grass in the centre of the grove, wearing nothing but a soft linen shift, and at her breast
suckled a newborn baby. Faraday’s lips curved in a smile and she gently stroked the soft down
covering the babe’s round head. Tiny fingers, perfectly formed, kneaded at her breast. Faraday
felt infinitely fortunate to be here in this place and with this babe, and she cuddled the baby as
close as she dared, crooning to it as it continued to suck. A shadow fell across her lap and
Faraday looked up, startled. She frowned a little at the intrusion, then smiled, for this strange
beast with the body of a man and the head of a white stag was her friend. “You must leave here,”