"I know that, Brother," Terve muttered.

"The frostreaver is the gift of the polar bear," he reiterated, just to annoy her. "The frostreaver is the only weapon that will stave off the bull men and thanoi, foes of The People."

Terve looked around her and shivered. The mention of the walrus men and the minotaurs, who made periodic forays into the Icereach to steal slaves and sealskins, sent her edging a little closer to her big brother. Haudo pretended not to notice. He continued his tale of the ice bear, the reavers, and the debt that The People owed to the polar bears. No Ice Folk man or woman would slay a polar bear; the one who did, even accidentally, owed the bear's spirit seven days of fasting and prayer and many gifts.

"Haudo." Terve spoke quietly for once.

"Terve," he complained, "I'm trying-"

"Haudo, The People don't need great fires to make the skin ropes, do they?"

"What?" Without moving, Haudo absorbed the growing fear in his sister's eyes. Then he turned around and faced the wind, to where the fires of his people had sent thin spires of smoke into the southern air only a short time before.

Now the air was black with smoke. Even this far away, Haudo could smell burning fur and skins. He could have sworn, too, that he heard screams, but of course that was impossible.

"Haudo?" Terve was suddenly standing, pressed against him. He placed an arm around his little sister's shoulders. She's too little to be motherless, he thought. "We must go to the iceboat, Terve."

"What has happened?" Terve was on the verge of tears, but a child of The People does not cry easily. She still clutched her basket of reaver shards.

"We will see, Little Sister." He righted the boat, helped Terve into it, and set the sail. Soon he was running alongside, guiding it onto the packed snow, then leaping into the iceboat when the sail caught the wind. They sped silently toward the smoking village.

Haudo pulled up the iceboat and hid it behind a ridge of mounded snow. The village was a short distance away, behind the ridge. "Stay here," he ordered Terve.

The twelve-year-old boy crept along the back of the ridge, remembering everything his father had told him about tracking game: Heed your nose and heed your ears. They will tell you as much as your eyes. Even before he slipped his head above the ridge, he smelled the acrid stench of the minotaurs. He caught, also, the greasy fish smell of the thanoi, the walrus men, who contended, against the proof of thousands

of years of legend, that the Icereach was theirs, not The People's. And Haudo smelled something else-a nasty odor of garbage and rancid meat. Then he peered at his village, barely keeping from coughing in the smoky haze, and his breath caught in his throat. "Two-headed beasts!" he whispered.

He wanted to jump back, to avoid seeing the image he knew would never vanish from his mind. His kinsmen, his friends, lay sprawled in death on the blood-soaked snow. Minotaurs, walrus men, and the two-headed monsters brought body after body forth from iceblock huts and skin tents. A few bodies twitched. An old man moaned, and one of the two-headed brutes hurried over, waving a spiked club over its head.

Overseeing it all was the robed figure of a man, silhouetted against the southern sky.

As quietly as he'd ever moved in hunting seal or walrus, Haudo raced through the shadow of the snow ridge to the iceboat and Terve. The little girl, for once, had followed orders. She sat huddled in the boat. Haudo said only, "We must leave, little sister." She nodded mutely.

Soon the iceboat was speeding across the snow to their kinsmen's village, several days' journey to the northwest.

Kai-lid awakened with a start and sat up. The half-elf, keeping guard, looked over at her but said nothing. Caven and Kitiara and Wode lay wrapped in blankets around the fire. Xanthar perched above them, watchful. The eyes of the undead, as always, gazed at them from the darkness.

The mage sent her thoughts forth. Xanthar?

I saw it, too, Kai-lid. The devastation of the Ice Folk village.

It was no dream, then?

No more than the other. The village has been crushed by your father's armies. The Valdane is testing his strength, Kai-lid.

Xanthar, we have no time to linger. We have to lead these four to the sla-mori and get them to the Ice-reach.

I have an idea. As Kai-lid watched, the owl launched himself from the tree and soared off over Darken Wood. Within moments, he was lost to sight.

"What were you two discussing?" Tanis asked quietly from his post. "Kitiara told me of your telepathy."

Kai-lid answered slowly. "I think Xanthar is going to search for the ettin."

Tanis nodded, although his eyes seemed doubtful. "You believe we should still continue to try to capture it, then? Even though it seems to have been sent by this evil mage, Janusz?"

She hesitated. This half-elf appeared to be a decent sort; perhaps she could be more honest with him. Perhaps Tanis would volunteer to come to the aid of thousands of people who, she felt sure, would die at the hands of her father if the Valdane were not defeated. Kai-lid opened her mouth hesitantly.

But Caven Mackid broke in. "We should capture the damned ettin, go back to Haven immediately, and get our reward, Tanis. Let the lady fight her own battles." He gestured rudely toward Kai-lid. "I don't understand why Dreena's maid is involved in this ettin business, anyway." He clearly had not slept at all. His voice was snappish and his eyes shadowed.

"I agree with Caven," Kitiara said, renewing the debate. "Slay the ettin. That's what we set out to do."

"And then?" Kai-lid asked.

"Then?" Kitiara repeated.

'Then you can go home safely with your fifteen steel while the Valdane destroys everything in his path to power," Kai-lid said bitterly.

"So you say, mage. I'm not convinced." The swords-woman stretched elaborately. "Anyway, it's not my problem. I don't work for the Valdane anymore."

Caven nodded. "That's two votes in favor of fifteen steel," he said pointedly.

Kitiara nodded, but Tanis looked unconvinced. He gazed at Kai-lid. "I think you're holding something back, mage," he said softly. "I- only wish I knew what it is. Why should we trust you, Lida Tenaka?"

Kai-lid started to say something, then turned away.

"Big chicken!" Res shouted. He rose first, hoisting Lacua's side upright. "Food! Food!"

The ettin's left head protested. "Not chicken, stupid. Too big. Maybe goose."

"But supper?"

"Yes."

Xanthar sighed from his perch high above the ettin. "I am a giant owl, you dunderpated chuckleheads."

The two heads looked at each other. "Chicken talk?" They turned suspicious faces toward Xanthar. "Dunder-What say?"

"It's a great compliment," Xanthar said, deadpan. "Trust me."

"Ah," Lacua said, nodding. "A compliment."

"Supper use big words," Res observed.

"I have information for you," Xanthar said.

"Inform-" Lacua stumbled over the word.

Xanthar amended himself. "I have a fact for you."

"Ah!"

"About Kitiara Uth Matar."

"Who?" Res muttered.

Lacua poked him. "Lady soldier, stupid," the left head said. Then, to Xanthar, "Say fact now."

"She's about to leave Darken Wood."

Res protested. "Can't. Must follow Res-Lacua to Fever Mountain. Master said-"

"Quiet!" Lacua slammed Res over the head with his club. Res rubbed his pate and sulked.

"They will not follow you any longer, ettin," the owl said smoothly, twisting his head back to preen a wing feather with a doting beak. "They are going to leave." He pulled his head upright, watching the worried-looking monster.