the outside, shape-craftiness looked much the same as simple illusion. On the other hand, Rudy did think longingly of conjuring up a snowmobile.
The Icefalcon continued in the same light, uninflected tone. “I imagine my own journey will be easier—provided I don't get my horse stolen.”
“Your journey?” Gil asked, surprised.
Pale eyebrows elevated fractionally. “Hadn't you heard? I'm the one who has been chosen to ride south to the Alketch with my lord Alwir's letters to the Emperor, asking his help with troops.”
Ingold laid a hand gently on Gil's shoulder to stop her next angry words. “It was a logical choice,” he said smoothly. “Alwir picked the messenger with the best chance of survival.”
Who coincidentally happened to be the man who kept him from shutting the doors on you last night, Rudy added. But, like Gil, he held his peace.
Unruffled, Ingold searched through his voluminous robes and eventually located a small handworn token of carved wood that he gave to the pale captain. “I leave you with this,” he said. The Icefalcon took it and turned it over in curious fingers. It was dark and smoke-stained, obviously old. Rudy had the impression that it was shaped like some living thing, but it was neither human nor any animal that he recognized. “It is imbued with the Rune of the Veil,” Ingold explained, “the rune that turns aside the eyes and the mind. It will by no means make you invisible, but it may help you on your journey.”
The Icefalcon inclined his head in thanks, while Ingold pulled on his worn blue mittens and wound ten feet of knitted gray muffler around his neck, so that the ends fluttered like banners in the chilly winds. Around the corner of the Keep, a gaggle of the herdkids appeared, Keep orphans in charge of looking after the stock. Most of them were running aimlessly, shrieking with laughter and hurling snowballs as if they hadn't been playing keep-away with death through the night. But a couple of them were leading a donkey, a scrawny miserable beast with the Earth Cross of the Faith branded on one bony hip. The donkey represented a major victory for Alwir and Ingold, since the Church owned most of the stock in the Keep. Rudy suspected Govannin had had the thing exorcised and blessed.
Other shadows appeared in the darkness of the gates. Alwir stepped forth into the wan light, dark and elegant and as unmarred as the walls, followed by Janus, Melantrys, Gnift of the Guards, and Tomec Tirkenson, who in a few days would himself be leaving with his troops, his stock, and his followers, to take the long road over the Pass to Gettlesand. Of Govannin the Bishop of Gae, there was no sign. True to her word, she would have no truck with the tools of Satan, nor lend her countenance to their endeavor.
Ingold left his friends and walked up the steps toward the Chancellor, Rudy heard the drift of words, Alwir's voice deep and melodious, Ingold's reply warm and grainy. He glanced sideways at Gil and saw her looking hard and strained, her eyes narrowed and cold. He felt the tension rising off her like smoke, misery and worry and fear. Well, hell, why not? he thought. If the old man buys it out on the plains, she's in for a long stay.
We both are
. The thought was frightening.
“Hey, spook?”
She glanced forbiddingly at him.
“Take care of yourself while we're gone, okay?”
She evidently told herself to relax and did so, slightly. “I'm not the one who's gonna need taking care of,” she said. “All I have to do is sit tight and keep the door shut.”
It was on the tip of Rudy's tongue to ask Gil to look after Alde for him, but on second thought, he couldn't imagine someone as tough and hard-hearted as Gil getting along with the shy, retiring Minalde.
Gil sighed. “Have a good trip, punk,” she added. “Don't screw up and turn yourself into a frog.”
“At this point, I doubt he could manage even that,” Ingold said judiciously, coming back down to them. The rulers
Learning to Kill: Stories