"A thing of darkness and cold malice," said Lendri, his voice low.

"Hooded in an ash-gray cloak."

"Yes," said Amira. "How…?"

"I saw him last night-or one very like him."

"Him?" asked the belkagen.

"Him… it, I don't know," said Lendri. "His presence made my skin crawl and froze the air around me, but I heard him speak the words to his spell, and it was a man's voice." He took another sip from his bowl and swallowed hard. "But something was… wrong with the voice.

Something twisted, as if the man were not used to speaking."

"He was alone?" asked Amira.

"No," said Lendri. "Others were with him. The whiteskins you spoke of. They are known here in the Wastes. And feared. Siksin Neneweth, my people name them."

Amira's brow creased. "I don't know the word."

The belkagen broke in. "Damarans call them Aikulen Jain, and the Tuigan Shen Ghel. Ice Walkers, Frost Folk it means."

"In the attack on High Horn, three of the raiders died. Two were Tuigan, but the other was one of these pale-skinned barbarians you speak of, these 'Frost Folk.' The senior war wizard at High Horn examined them, probing their minds. The Tuigan were just mercenaries, hired swords. Saelthos said he could read nothing from the other… only a sense of cold and frost. But he said he thought the man was Sossrim, not… Frost Folk."

The belkagen threw another log on the fire, sending sparks spiraling upward, where they were quickly snuffed out in the heavy fog. "Sossrim they once were," he said. "But now they dwell farther north than Sossal, in the endless ice where months do not see the sun.

You've heard of the Raumathari Empire in your Cormyr?"

"Of course."

"In the years of war between Raumathar and Narfell, many from Sossal allied themselves with Raumathar against the demon hordes of Narfell. But in their desperation, some even among the Raumathari sought power where they should not. I have heard it told that in those ancient days some of the Sossrim swore loyalty to Raumathari wizards who sought power with demons, devils, and other foul beings from the outer darkness. Their own folk shunned them, and so they have lived in the far north, performing their vile rites. In the darkest winters, sometimes they raid far south, taking plunder and captives. But I have never heard of them striking all the way into Cormyr. So far… never have I heard of such a thing. And Jalan was all they took?"

"Yes. They slaughtered any who stood in their way, and the… uh, the dark one called down a killing frost, but they took no plunder.

Only my son."

"Why?" asked the belkagen. "Why travel more than a thousand miles through foreign lands for one boy?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. I only want my son back."

"Have you ever noticed anything special about the boy?"

"You're asking a mother?"

The belkagen smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "You study the arcane. You know what I mean."

"Dreams."

Both the belkagen and Lendri seemed to tense at this. "Dreams… ?" asked the belkagen.

"Jalan was always a vivid dreamer, even as a small child. I can only remember images and words from dreams, but Jalan… he could recall sounds, shapes, even smells and touch in solid detail. And he said he often dreamed of a shining song."

"A shining song?"

Amira shrugged. "Only a dream. I never thought about it much."

The belkagen and Lendri shared a look. "The elves do not sleep like other folk of the world. We rest and"-he seemed to be searching for the word-"walk the dreamroad. Dreams can be very powerful and hold great meaning."

"I sometimes dream I can fly," said Amira. "It doesn't make me a bird."

"What did you do?" Lendri broke in.

"About birds?"

"About your son. When you returned to the High Horn and found him gone."

"In Cormyr," said Amira, "the war with the Horde is still fresh in the minds of many, especially among the knights and wizards. I don't know any who didn't lose someone. When it was discovered that Tuigan and other easterners had penetrated one of our westernmost outposts … well, it was treated with extreme concern.

"Three expeditions were mounted to pursue the raiders, each led by a war wizard. Since the murderers had my son-and since my family has contacts in Nathoud-I volunteered to lead one team. Two of us caught up with them about fifty miles east of the Sunrise Mountains. We caught them late in the day. By surprise. But still they fought like cornered dogs-except for the cloaked one, who cowered and hid and left the fighting to his men and other hired blades. They fled before us.

"But when the sun went down, the… dark thing, he… uh, seemed to 'wake up' and fill with terrible strength. He killed over half our force." Amira shivered at the memory and pulled her cloak around her. Full night had fallen, and their campfire did little to penetrate the thick darkness. "It was as if he called down the heart of winter itself. Strong men died in their tracks. All but a few of us were killed, but we took many enemy lives as well. A few of us managed to get away with Jalan and flee. We ran through the night. More died.

In the end, it was only the sunrise that saved us. Exhausted as we were, we pushed on."

"You said three teams were sent out," said Lendri. "Your team met with one. What of the other?"

"What few of us survived met them in Almorel. We'd hoped to find a portal thereabouts and make it as far west as we could. We watched for the pale barbarians and the dark thing, but we were foolish." Amira stared into the fire, and her voice hardened. "We underestimated our foe. Whoever is leading them put the word out to every thug and bandit in the Wastes. That loud-mouthed bastard Walloch and a bunch of his men hit us leaving Almorel. Killed the other war wizard, took my staff and book, and when I'd used my last spell… well, you figure out the rest. That's where you three enter the story."

"Will more of your war wizards come to help?" asked the belkagen.

Amira looked around and saw a waterskin lying on the ground. She reached for it and took a long swallow before replying. "I wouldn't hope for it."

"Why? Does your order forsake its own so easily?"

"They may not know what happened yet." She avoided the belkagen's gaze. "May not know for days. Tendays even. And even if they do, they have no idea where I am. Our last known location was Almorel. They'll start searching there, but it could take them days to find me. And if I'm on the move every day, it could take tendays before they catch up."

"On the move?"

Amira held the belkagen's gaze. "I'm going for my son. You said that if I waited, you could help. Give me some hope, some chance of success. But that raises another question I haven't been able to answer: Why did you help me in the first place? Outside Almorel, when Walloch's force hit us, there were others on the road. Lots of others.

Travelers, merchants, Tuigan warriors… those who didn't flee just watched that slaver and his men slaughter us. What makes you three so different?"

Lendri ignored the question. He simply sat drinking from the wooden bowl and staring off into the distance. The belkagen held her gaze for a long moment, then looked to Gyaidun.

The big man shooed the raven off his lap-the bird gave an angry caw until it saw the remains of the belkagen's dinner lying not far from the fire and went after it-then shrugged and said, "I was born a slave. Never much cared for slavers since. I've made it a point to make their lives difficult whenever I can."

"That's it?"

"We helped," said Gyaidun. "Why suspect our reasons?"

"I'm a stranger to these lands. Trusting doesn't come easy for me."

"If we wanted you dead, we could've killed you or left you to die.

If we have not earned your trust by now… why chase the wind?"

"Maybe it isn't me dead you want."