At the back of the cave a fallen stone made a shadowed space, and she lit a lantern to scan for unwelcome inhabitants before unrolling her bedding there. The flame wavered and smoked, as though in a strong current of air. A few moments of poking and prying established that air was indeed coming from the back of the shadowed area where a cylindrical opening extended into the cliff, like the neck of a bottle. The air coming from this duct was surprisingly warm, which made her curious enough to squirm into it, pushing the lantern ahead of her. Two body lengths in, she found further movement blocked by a rusty grille some three feet across. Beyond it, something rustled and stilled, and rustled again.
She squirmed out and went to ask Garth to take a look at this. He cut a sapling and used it to push his own lantern in far enough to see the grille, took off his gloves to feel the air, and nodded thoughtfully a time or two.
“I’d say this could be a vent for the storage vaults below Havenor. Though they’ve no doubt grown in the telling, according to reliable people, they started out as extensive natural caverns that have been enlarged ever since the first settlers. I never thought much about it before, but it stands to reason they would need to let some air out and pull fresh air in. Or, the grille could have been put here in the long past to prevent someone’s falling into a chasm with a hot spring. Either way, I see no reason you shouldn’t take advantage of the warmth. You’ll sleep better for it, won’t you, Imogene?”
“Yes,” she said, after a moment, recollecting that she was now Imogene. “But there’s a sound. Like something moving.”
“It’s warm,” he said. “And it’s moist. No doubt siren-lizards or tiwies appreciate warmth, as you will if you put your bed in this recess. Tiwies are harmless and you’ll be well hidden.”
“You are welcome to share the warm,” she said, smiling wearily at him. “It’s long enough for both of us.”
He patted her shoulder. “The horse won’t fit, and we dare not leave the horse out of our calculations. No, the horse and I will be out there, and you’ll be in here, safe, and we’ll both get on with our journey as soon as conditions permit.”
They shared bowls of soup beside Garth’s fire. When he had finished, Garth set his bowl on a convenient rock, leaned forward and said urgently, “Imogene, this unforeseen happening makes me believe we need an agreement in case of emergency. Your horse going lame has taught us that even good plans can go awry, so it would be best for us to be prepared.”
“Of course,” she said. “I understand.”
“You are Imogene Sentith. You will need to remember your name, and that you are my eldest daughter and that I will be distraught over your absence. You have a brother, Ivan, and a sister, Ivy. Your brother is a stripling of fourteen, your sister a child of twelve.”
“Do I look anything like your daughter?”
“No, my dear, you’re much prettier, but then, no one here has ever seen Imogene.”
“Why are you doing this, Honorable Sentith?”
“Not honorable, child, just plain Sentith, though I think you’d better get into the habit of calling me Papa.”
“Papa,” she said obediently, feeling the word twist upon her tongue as if it had changed identities. “And do you call me Imogene?”
“No, I call you Imma, and I hug you often, which you must not mind, for while I admire young women a good deal, I am faithful to my good wife, Ivalee, and I shall not bother you with unwanted attentions.” He said this in a grave and bumbling voice, nodding his head, thus doubling his assurances.
“I didn’t think you would.” Genevieve smiled. “I should know about the town where we live, shouldn’t I?”
“There is little to tell about Weirmills. It is in a valley protected from both warm southerly winds and cold northers by the surrounding mountains, but it receives a good deal of rain, which makes the meadows burst with bloom, a good thing for the business of a perfumer, which is what I am. Weirmills is a little place, getting its name from the great weir built across the river to provide power to the weaving mills on either side.”