Gyaidun snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, woman."

Amira blushed. "That wasn't what I meant. How do I know you aren't slavers yourself? Maybe you just saved me to collect the price instead of Walloch."

"I… we never asked for your trust," said Gyaidun. "Not asking now. No one's keeping you here."

Amira's eyes widened, and she looked to the belkagen. "You convinced me to stay. I wanted to leave long ago. It was you who said I should stay, that you'd help-"

"Lendri and I are going after your son," said Gyaidun. "But no one invited you. Best that you stay here with the belkagen."

"Curse my House if I will, you-"

"I care nothing for you or your House."

Amira stood, her face a mask of fury. "You stupid, arrogant-"

"Peace!" said the belkagen, and he stepped between them. "Lady, please sit."

"I've sat enough. Damn you, you convinced me to lie about all day.

Jalan's getting farther each moment!"

"Enough!" said the belkagen. The predator's gaze had returned to his eyes, and his nostrils flared in anger. His jaw clenched, and he stood with all the poised authority of a king, his staff held high.

"You will sit and hear me or I will tie you down-for your sake and the sake of your son."

Amira sat, her mouth pressed in a flat line. Gyaidun was staring at her, not smiling but watching her.

"And you-" The belkagen turned to Gyaidun. "You will sit silent and ponder the courtesy due an honored guest. Disrespect the lady again, and I'll thump you into the lake."

The big man returned the belkagen's glare. "The… 'lady' speaks much of what I'm thinking, Belkagen. The trail goes cold. I could've put leagues behind me before sunset."

The belkagen's staff thumped to the ground, and he leaned heavily on it a moment before sitting. "You would leave your rathla behind?" he asked, but Amira could hear the weakness in the elf's argument.

"Once Lendri was healed, he could have caught me. Easily." Gyaidun spoke carefully, with respect, but Amira could hear that it was silk over a blade. Something was going on here. "But you persuaded me to stay," he continued. "Just as you did the lady. Why?"

The belkagen shot them each another look. "Think. Both of you.

Lendri says that this dark one is traveling with the ones who have Amira's son. He seems to weaken during the day. Most likely Jalan's captors rest during the day and travel at night. Even if this dark thing does not need sleep, the Siksin Neneweth do. Most likely they have slept all day today. We-and I do mean we-will certainly do all we can to save the boy. But we cannot rush after them like a pack on a bloodscent." He looked at Amira. "You said that the first time you caught them, that… thing killed most of your force by himself. What can four expect to do?"

"We didn't know what we were facing the first time. I do now."

"Do you? What is this 'dark one,' then?"

Amira locked eyes with the belkagen, but it was she who dropped her gaze first.

"I thought as much," said the belkagen. "Then hear me. My people have walked these lands for many hundreds of years, and I myself walked here long before your grandfather was born. Not all lore is kept in books inside your stone forts, and the tales of these lands reach far back to the days of Raumathar and farther back still. You have heard of Iket Sotha? 'Winter's Fort' in your tongue, I think."

"You mean Winterkeep?" said Amira.

"Ah, Winterkeep, then."

"It's a ruin on the Great Ice Sea, said to have once been the capital of the Raumathari Empire."

The belkagen smiled, seeming genuinely pleased. "Very good! I see you were a good student."

"My family has had trading contacts in Nathoud for years. Most in House Hiloar study the lore of the East. Knowing your customers and competitors makes for good business."

"You've heard of the legends surrounding the place, then?"

"What ruin isn't surrounded in legends?"

The smile on the belkagen's face fell to a frown. "You study history but disdain legend?"

"Disdain? No. But history is fact. Legend is… not. Scholars-"

"Scholars? Pfah! I have met some of these 'scholars.' Half-mad, most of them. Legends… well, they are known by the people, who are … what is your word? Sane."

Amira chuckled, but it was an empty laugh with no humor in it. She buried her face in her palms and rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt. And getting a straight answer out of the belkagen… he was worse than any master or teacher among the war wizards. Gods, I hate the Wastes, she thought.

"What do your legends of Winterkeep have to do with me and my son?"

"And you still haven't answered our question," said Gyaidun. "Why have you kept us here? The trail goes colder as we sit by the fire, and this is the best lead we've had in over ten years. Ten years, Kwarun! If we lose-"

"Peace," said the belkagen. "I know your need, Yastehanye. I share your need. But rushing to our deaths-"

"Rushing?" Gyaidun's shout roused the wolf sleeping by Lendri's side, and it sat up, its ears stiff. "Would that we were, Belkagen.

Instead we sit by the fire and talk!"

The belkagen opened his mouth to respond, but Lendri spoke first.

"Peace, rathla. I feel your hunger. But you did not face this… thing. Our oaths, both blood and milk, bind us. But we cannot keep them by rushing to our deaths. If making amrulugek will give us a chance to bring this thing down, then it is worth a small delay."

"Look," Amira broke in, "you three obviously have much to discuss, but I don't understand half of what you're talking about. All I want is to get my son back. If you can help, I will be in your debt. If not, then speed me on my way. I beg you."

The belkagen muttered a long string of words in his own tongue.

The speech was completely foreign to Amira, but she could sense the frustration in his words. He took a deep breath, then stared into the flames and spoke.

"Lady Amira, Lendri and Gyaidun and I have walked many horizons together, few of them pleasant. Forgive us our heated words."

Amira glanced over at Gyaidun, who didn't look at all apologetic.

"You were speaking of Winterkeep…" she said.

"Yes, Winterkeep. Iket Sotha. It is a place shunned by the people of these lands. In ancient days it was a place of beauty, but foul things happened there, and this cold earth has a long memory. One of the great weaknesses of your 'histories,' Lady Amira"-the belkagen gave her a weary smile-"is that if the tome and scholar are both lost, your 'history' is lost. The people of these lands have a better way of preserving truth. We remember the tales, sing the songs, and dance the fires. Your history is a book. Ours lives in us and our children."

Amira took a deep breath and forced civility into her tone.

"Honored Belkagen, my child-my only child-is getting farther away as we sit here. I would be most grateful if you came to your point soon."

The belkagen's smile fell to a frown. "As you say. Even a young, upstart people like the Tuigan know of the evil of Iket Sotha. They tell tales of how the angry ice gods rose from Yal Tengri and sealed the Raumathari kings and their sorcerers in ice. The Tuigan, who fear very few things in this land, will not go near Iket Sotha. But the Tuigan are a young people, and their tales only touch the leaves of a tree whose roots go deep, to a time when the Tuigan still dwelt in the East.

"In the dying days of the wars between Raumathar and the demon-haunted empire of Narfell, the Nars summoned great ice devils to fight for them. Every army sent against them was beaten or pushed back-until the rise of Arantar and Khasoreth. You have heard of them?"

Amira shook her head. "No."

"Many songs are sung of their adventures in these lands. Arantar was a great sorcerer, the greatest of his age. Some have even said that his father was a god or some great being from beyond. Fire was the soul and song of Arantar, and he was its unquestioned master.