Si glyph [https://i.imgur.com/mHhTdaF.png]

In the night, the snow stopped, the biting wind stilled and they woke to fog: a dense, clammy blanket of white, stifling every sound, damp on their clothes and skin.

After a breakfast of cold meat and water, they walked on. Andra led, as usual, with Sam tramping alongside her, his cheerful chatter occasionally drawing a monosyllabic response. Whether it was due to practice, or rest and food, Simon felt steadier on his feet this morning and, leaning on his stick, kept pace with Nana and Lorie.

He glanced at Lorie, who walked beside him. Lorie, his quiet little girl, what Lorie had done—he still couldn’t believe it. He had never heard of anyone summoning without a written sigil, without any formal training. Such implausible, hand-waving magics were one thing performed by the heroes of nursery-tales—deeply disturbing to see in real life, for more than one reason.

Summoning always carried risk, for the forces one called on were not passive. Inscrutable as they were, they had motives and purposes of their own, and the Adept must always be alert, always ensure it was themselves in control, lest the Power they summoned gain control of them instead.

The discipline of choosing glyphs and writing the sigil anew on every invocation afforded a level of protection. If the Adept merely had to imagine the glyphs, how much easier that would be, and how seductive that ease, all that power only a thought away. All that danger, just as close.

Lorie’s ability might have saved their lives, but at what cost to her? And the unavoidable fact was whatever the danger, he couldn’t stop her. She needed proper training, the sort of training he’d been given at the Arcanum. Only the Arcanum didn’t admit girls…

They skirted a hill and trekked across a frozen lake. Wind had swept the snow from the ice, revealing patterns of cracks and ridges where the water had frozen, broken, and frozen again.

Andra seemed certain of the way, though Simon couldn’t say if they were even heading east. It seemed a long time since they’d last seen the sun, or stars, or any landmark. The fog-bound landscape looked the same in every direction, and the ground underfoot might have been the same they crossed an hour ago.

He began to wonder if Andra did know where they were going. As his legs tired, a dark, sickly feeling grew in him that she didn’t, that she was content to lead them in circles until they dropped dead of exhaustion. After all, who could say what a lasker might do? She wasn’t human.

After what felt like hours, Andra called a halt. Simon sank to the ground. The others joined him. They passed round the water bottle and Andra chewed a strip of meat.

‘There’s a road,’ Simon said. ‘It goes east, to Athanor. If we could find it, we’d know our way.’

Andra patted the snow-covered rocks they sat on. ‘Road.’

Simon straightened. He’d been so relieved to stop, he hadn’t really looked at his surroundings. They sat on a low ridge, clear of trees and bushes, topped with rock beneath a thin covering of snow. Now he felt stupid for not having noticed, and ashamed for doubting her. ‘If this is the road…’ He tried to reckon how far they’d walked already, but the calculation dizzied him.

‘Will we get to Athanor soon?’ Sam asked.

‘A few more days,’ Simon guessed.

‘So we’re nearly there?’ Lorie said.

‘Yes.’ Simon tried to sound confident. ‘In a few days, we’ll be in Athanor. There’ll be soft beds, food, everything you could want.’

Lorie sighed. ‘What’s it like, Athanor?’

‘Like?’ Simon sipped the water. ‘Beautiful. Marvellous. Huge. More than you can imagine. Athanor is…’ When he closed his eyes, he could see it all: the broken mountain cupping the blue sea, the harbour crowded with tall-masted ships, the streets where gas-flares turned night to day. ‘Athanor is the greatest city in the world.’

Sam frowned. ‘What about the Imperial capital? You said that was bigger.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose it is. But Athanor is older. Some scholars think the city pre-dates the Cataclysm, that it was built by the Forerunners. Of course, it’s been destroyed several times since then and rebuilt.’

‘So it’s not really the same city, is it?’ Sam sounded sceptical. ‘More a different city in the same place.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Nana said. ‘But I’m looking forward to the soft beds. And a square meal of something that isn’t dog.’

Andra cocked her head to one side. She stared into the fog. ‘Quiet.’

Sam scrambled to his feet. ‘What is it?’

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She hissed. Simon held his breath, listening to the fog-wrapped silence. Then, distant but unmistakable, came a low groan. He might have thought it the voice of the wind and sky, if it hadn’t been so familiar.

‘That’s a mammut,’ Sam said.

Andra was already running.

Simon lurched to his feet, crying, ‘Wait,’ but she had vanished into the fog. He cursed under his breath.

The others stood with him, all staring up the road in the same direction, though there was nothing to see.

‘It must be the wagon train,’ Lorie said. ‘Do we follow her?’

‘Not if that awful man’s there,’ Nana said.

‘But Andra could be in danger,’ Sam said. ‘We should go help her.’

Simon shouldered his pack. ‘She can take care of herself.’

‘Well, then?’ Nana asked.

‘We go on. Carefully.’

Simon walked on. It was easier following on the road. The stones were uneven underfoot, but that was better than deep snow hiding holes and spiky branches. As he walked, Simon strained to listen. The low complaints of the mammoth carried a long way, and it was difficult to judge how far they were. Andra might have got there by now. What would she do? What would happen when she met Chase and his brother?

If Chase shot her... but if he did, they’d hear the gun. He heard nothing. He wished now he’d warned Andra about the gun. The possibility of catching up with the wagon train had never occurred to him; if it had he would have dismissed it as unlikely. On foot, they had travelled so slowly, much slower than the long-striding mammut.

Sam dropped his pack. ‘I’m going to look.’

’Sam, no,’ Simon said.

‘It’s all right. I’ll be careful.’ Sam sprinted up the road.

Simon cursed and shrugged off his own pack. ‘Stay here.’ He strode after Sam.

The fog billowed around him, stirred by a slight breeze. He heard Sam’s boots on the road recede into the distance, then only his own footsteps and harsh breathing. A dark bulky shape loomed from the mist: the tail of a wagon, much closer than he’d imagined it would be. There was no sign of Sam.

The wagon trundled forward. Simon crept to the tail and peeked round the side. All he saw was the side of the wagon, and after that, the dim shape of the next wagon. A mammut huffed.

‘Where’s Sam gone?’ Lorie’s voice came from behind, startling him.

Simon glared at her. ‘I told you to stay put.’

’You didn’t say how long.’

Simon glanced toward the head of the train again. All was quiet. But Sam was somewhere, and Andra. ‘Well, wait for me here. One child in danger at a time is enough.’

He crept along the side of the wagon, past an iron-spiked wheel as tall as himself. Lorie followed.

‘What are you doing?’ he hissed. ‘I said wait.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’

‘Lorie—’

A shout came from ahead — Sam’s voice, though Simon couldn’t make out any words. Simon ran, or tried to, stumbling along the length of the wagon. The mammut towered over him, a brown indistinct shape. It huffed curiously, fumbling for him with its out-stretched trunk. He fended it off.

They had reached the end of the fourth wagon when a grey figure loomed from the fog: man-sized, and striding toward them.

Simon froze. He had his walking stick, but he was under no illusion about his ability to defend himself, and he couldn’t run. He pushed Lorie behind him.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s Andra.’

It was Andra, scowling as she strode toward them. Simon relaxed. ’What’s happening? Where’s Sam?’

She glared. ‘Sister gone. Men gone. Gone.’

It took a moment for Simon to adjust his thinking to Andra’s broken speech, and then he understood. ‘Chase and Nyl, they’re not here?’

She shook her head. ‘Gone. Come.’

Simon hurried after Andra along the length of the train. Relief turned to excitement. If Chase and Nyl had left the train, then they were safe, for the moment—but why had they gone?

‘Dad!’ Sam shouted. He emerged from the fog, standing near the head of the train, waving to them. ‘Hurry, Patla’s hurt.’

Simon climbed the steps into the cabin. Patla, the wagon driver, slumped on the floor. She was still and pale, so pale he thought she must be dead. He knelt beside her. Blood stained the boards beneath her body, enough blood to pool and sink deep into the wood grain.

He took off his glove and put his hand to her neck, and felt her pulse flutter against his fingers. ‘Patla, can you hear me? It’s Simon.’

Her eyes twitched beneath half-closed lids. ‘Simon?’ she breathed.

‘Light be praised.’ Relief overwhelmed him; he had to pause to breathe and consider what to do. He turned to the door. ‘Lorie, Sam, run back and fetch Nana and the baggage. Patla’s alive, but she’s badly hurt.’

He returned his attention to Patla. Her skin was clammy to touch. She was cold, and that was something he could help with.

The cabin she had shared with Nadu was laid out the same way as the one his family had travelled in, with the same bunks and stove. The stove contained only cold grey ashes, and the fuel bucket was empty. He pulled a quilt from the nearest bunk and tucked it round her.

‘Simon,’ Patla whispered.

The quilt was made from hundreds of small fabric scraps of many colours, painstakingly stitched together — perhaps by Patla herself in the long idle hours of travelling.

‘You’re going to be all right,’ he said. ‘Where are you hurt?’

‘Stabbed.’ She moved weakly under the quilt. ‘Chest. Chase...’

‘Why did they leave?’

She chuckled, then coughed. ‘Was going slow. They got fed up. Decided to walk to Athanor… Yesterday. Didn’t want to… explain train.’

Simon’s heart thumped. ‘We’re that close to Athanor?’

‘A day or so. Thought they’d killed me. Idiots.’

It made sense. Chase needed Patla to drive the train, but he had always intended to kill her and abandon the wagon train before reaching Athanor. The dog, too, must have been abandoned when they’d left the train. Injured, sick, and half-blind as it was, Chase had thrown it out into the wilderness to die.

Voices came from outside: the others were back, with Nana and their packs. Simon put his head out of the door. ‘Sam, fetch charcoal from one of the other cabins. Light the stove in here. Nana, can you look at Patla? She has a stab wound in the chest. You help her, Lorie.’

He climbed down the steps to make room for Nana and Lorie.

Andra intercepted him. ‘Where men?’

‘They stabbed the driver and set out to walk to Athanor.’

‘I go,’ she said, and started walking up the road.

‘Wait. Andra, please listen to me.’ She stopped. ‘You promised you’d get us to Athanor.’ Simon swallowed. Perhaps he should let her go… but she’d saved their lives more than once. He owed her, and an Oryche pays their debts. ‘They left yesterday. They’ll reach the city before you catch them.’

She raised an eyebrow.

‘You have no idea what Athanor is like. It’s huge.’ He spread his hands wide, trying to show what he couldn’t adequately say. ‘Thousands of people. You don’t speak the language well. You won’t find them, not without help. Stay with us. When we reach Athanor, I’ll help you. I’ll help you find your sister.’