Red watched him for a long moment before he set King back into the water, heading directly for the lanterns on the other side. With those lights to guide him, the going was much easier this time. Mairi again had foreseen the need for small fires, more cheerful than effective as light sources but certainly beacons in the dismal night. Red oversaw the dividing up of the available lanterns, then had a steel pole pounded into the water's edge by his marker cairn. One lantern was securely fastened at its top, a second one hooked at man height, and a heavy rope tied at waist height for those on foot to grab.

That preparation completed, Red fastened the other end of the rope around the saddle horn and coiled it carefully to play out across the river. Mounting King once more, he took up three more lanterns and two more poles, and led other lantern-carrying riders back into the river. He positioned the riders at intervals; they would hold up the lanterns to guide the others, and would also be available to give assistance as required. When he reached the far bank, he hammered in another pole, hooked on the lantern, and tied the end of the rope in one of those clever hitches mariner Jim Tillek had once shown him.

Then he walked King to where he thought the right-hand edge of the ford should be and kneed him into the water—right up to his own waist. King lurched mightily out of that hole and back onto the shale, shaking himself as if annoyed at his immersion. Red clamped his teeth against the cold of that dunking. Fortunately he'd managed to keep the lantern from being doused. He walked King back up the shale footing to the bank, where he stabbed the last pole into the ground and settled the final lantern. That would give them beacons enough—if no one panicked. The ford was just wide enough to accommodate the largest sled. Even one of the team putting a foot wrong could result in disaster.

He cantered King back across the ford, more an act of bravado than common sense, for he knew King was tiring. Mairi was right there as he emerged from the water.

"Not another step do you go, Red Peter Hanrahan, until you've something warm in your stomach to take away the chill of that water! I heard you splashing about." She handed him a cup, and he was glad enough of it as the klah spread through him and down into his belly. He managed to suppress a shudder as the cool rain-laden breeze blew across his sodden breeches.

He handed her the cup with thanks and then, rising in his stirrups, addressed the group waiting to hear his decision.

"Listen up, folks. We'd best make the crossing tonight. The river's rising fast with what I bloody well know is ice melt as well as today's rain. Right now the ford's no higher than King's knees, if you keep to it and head on the left diagonal to the far shore and the left-hand lantern. The ford itself is shale, so the minute you feel your mount moving into something softer, get back on the hard stuff. Now, let's get moving. Those of you leading packhorses move out first. Tie them on the far bank and then bring your mounts to form a very careful line on the right-hand side of the ford. Watch that hole I fell into. It's a cold one!"

He trotted King down the line to the various carts and gave them their travel orders, leaving the heavy sleds till last, for they'd need the most help.

Shouts from the river told him there were minor troubles, but each time he turned King to go investigate, he heard reassurances that the crisis was over.

Once the lead horses, the other pack animals, and four of the carts had gotten safely across, and there were sufficient riders marking the ford's boundaries, he sent the loose animals across. The dogs nearly caused a commotion, and several had to be roped to safety when they were in danger of being caught by the current. The goats were the worst. They seemed to want to go for a long swim. So Red asked everyone with fire-lizards to keep the goats in line. Snapper dove at the bell nanny, clipping her on her right ear to turn her to the left. That got her back on line, and the others followed, urged on by attendant fire-lizards.

Suddenly, without any warning, and before the goats had started climbing out on the far side, Snapper and the other fire-lizards let out a racket of dreadful sounds and disappeared.

"What the hell?" Red said, totally surprised and vastly irritated by the abrupt abandonment. Snapper had always been reliable… He pushed King forward to deflect the lead nanny from yet another wayward plunge and was relieved to get the little herd safely out of the river.

By then, help had arrived from the Hold and he was distracted from the fire-lizard desertions by the need to organize the final stages of the crossing. Madeleine Messurier had sent along hot soup and some sort of hot bread filled with one of her spicy concoctions. It didn't take much persuasion from Brian and the Hold reinforcements to convince Red to pause long enough to eat. Especially as once the powerful beacons were in place they shone the clear path across the now perceptibly higher water, foaming in its hurry to reach the sea, many long klicks to the east. Red knew that he'd miss the sight and sound of the sea near him, but feasible "premises" had not presented themselves nearer the coast. He'd always lived in sight of an ocean, but that was a small price to pay for what he'd have here. But first he'd have to get everyone across that churning river.

A shiver ran up his spine, despite the warm food in his guts: he was wet through and through, and he had already begun to feel the stallion's tiredness in his occasional stumble and slide in the mire. He counted on the great heart, of the horse and his own determination to last as long as they still had people and stock to get past this ford.

The first yoke of the three pairs harnessed to the largest sled balked at being asked to enter dark waters, though the beams lit their way as clearly as the sun. The drivers energetically cracked their whips overhead; two men used prods; and a few hauled at the nose rings of the stubborn oxen. Aggravated by the stupidity and aware that the river was deepening by the minute, Red ordered the animals blindfolded, but that old trick wasn't having any effect with the water swirling about their knees and reinforcing their sense of danger. He was trying to think what else might motivate them, damning Snapper's disappearance when the fire-lizard might have repeated his successful motivation of the goats, when there was a commotion on the far bank horses whinnying and bucking while their startled rider tried to calm them. The cattle lowed in such panic that there could be only one cause of such widespread reaction.

Peering above, into the drizzling night sky while King cavorted wildly, Red just barely made out the shape of a dragon overhead, the bronze hide faintly illuminated by the dying campfires.

"Sean!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, reining King into as small a circle as he could to keep him from bolting.

"Sorry, Red," Sean's voice replied from somewhere overhead.

Still circling King, though it took a lot of strength to hold the frightened stallion with one hand, Red made a megaphone of the other. "Don't be sorry. Be useful! Get behind this stubborn team and get them moving across the ford. We haven't got all night and the river's rising."

"Get out of my way, then," Sean's voice drifted down to him. "At the count of ten…" The instruction dwindled away into the night.

"Okay, fellows," Red yelled to the men in front of the team. "Sean's going to dragonize them. Be prepared for a rough ride. And somehow keep ‘em left. At all costs, keep ‘em left!"

Keeping a tight hold on the reins, he eased the pressure on King's bit and kneed him toward the cairn, facing the horse toward the river, away from the sight of an incoming dragon. He was just in time, for out of the darkness of the drizzle came a huge shape, low and headed right for the reluctant team.