Misha looked up from the maps spread out on his desk when the door of his
office opened without a warning knock. "Good afternoon, George," he said, and
immediately began assessing the jackal-man's mood. What he saw in his boss's
body language suggested it wasn't good. "Why do I have the feeling this isn't
a social call?"
George glanced back to make sure no others were in earshot, and then shut
the door behind him. "Why did you agree to let Snow and Marcus go along to Ice
Lake?" he asked without preamble. "The less attention we draw to that area,
the better."
The question was not unexpected, and Misha was ready for it. "I didn't have
much choice where Drift was concerned. Raven showed up while Laura, Finbar,
and I were still planning the mission, and said that the mission would fail if
I didn't send him along. As usual, she didn't say why. Laura has very
specific orders -not- to expose Redoubt's location in any way, shape, or form.
And, if worse comes to worst, I do trust Drift to keep his mouth shut."
George nodded slowly, not liking it but acknowledging the impossibility of
saying no in that situation. "What the Ice Queen wants, she gets, and she
usually has a very good reason. And Marcus?"
This time Misha didn't have as quick and ready an answer. After taking a
few moments to decide how to phrase his reply, he said, "Xavier Marcus is
problematic as a personality, but I wanted his weather talent along both for
prediction and for power. This late in the season, the weather up there can
turn foul in a heartbeat and I don't want them getting surprised by a sudden
storm. He's also along as insurance: I've encountered Marked of Akkala
performing a Task before, and they seem to draw complications like flies to
honey. Since snow, cold, and the weather are the big enemy up there, I wanted
a mage along who is good at dealing with them. Admittedly, Marcus would not
have been my first choice if there were any others of similar training and
availability for assignment, but there aren't, so I had to make do. If
necessary, I can ask the Duke to swear him to secrecy. Xavier Marcus may be
prickly about his family stature, but I know he's a man of his word when it's g
iven."
George pondered that for several long moments and finally nodded. "All
right," he said, "but when they come back, I want it made absolutely certain
that they either know nothing about Redoubt or that they are sworn to secrecy
about it before they leave Long House. They are not to leave until one or the
other happens. We did not spend all that time and effort building and
concealing the place just to risk some civilian telling everyone about it."
"Agreed," Misha replied. "Now, if you have a moment, I'd like to get your
opinion on the next month's scouting patrols…"
-----
"Drift?"
Xavier Marcus, after considerable internal debate, had reached a conclusion.
He had decided that the most difficult part of their journey to this
gods-forsaken valley in the middle of nowhere had not been surviving the
avalanche, or accepting that Drift and he were stuck apart from the group with
only the witless beast that had gotten them into trouble in the first place for
further company and aid.
"Drift?"
Nor had it been crossing the three waterfall-fed streams that had so far
barred their path to Ice Lake. It hadn't even been accepting his injuries.
Yes, his head still hurt and his ribs still ached, and his balance was still
suspect at best, but his condition was improving. Slowly. No, the most
difficult challenge he had yet faced on this trip was something that by all
rights should have been simple…
Getting Drift to stop.
"Drift!"
"What?" Drift called back, without slowing. He hadn't slowed down since
they'd dug the Longs' supply drop out of the snow, slogging implacably through
the thigh-deep snow. Even knowing how obsessively Drift took his morning runs,
Xavier was still impressed by his endurance. Still, even that had to have
limits…
"I think you should stop and rest for the evening. It's nearly dark."
"I'm not tired."
Xavier didn't need to see his friend's face to recognize the stubborn set of
his jaw. As admirable as the leopard found it in some circumstances, at times
like this, he found it the samoyed's most annoying flaw. Still, it could be
managed. "Well then have pity on those of us with smaller bladders and emptier
stomachs," he retorted. Rather more petulantly than he had intended, he added,
"Also, stop making me yell to get you to listen to me. It hurts. A lot."
This finally got Drift to slow down and angle toward the trees, which had
started to close in from the sides as they got closer to Ice Lake. "Sorry," he
said once they'd finally reached the cover of the forest's edge. "I just want
to get back to the Longs as soon as possible. I don't like being nearly alone
in unfamiliar territory."
"You and me both," Xavier agreed, borrowing Drift's battlestaff for a prop
so he could walk to the cover of a nearby bush without falling over from
dizziness or having to ask for help. "I just want to go home, settle down in
front of a warm fire with some incense laid on, savor a nice glass of Pyralian
wine, and listen to Tessa play something nice and relaxing on her harp."
"Flaunt your wealth much?" he heard Drift mutter, but let it slide. He was
a nobleman: he had no need to justify himself to a lower class member, however
likeable.
After a few minutes of privacy, he returned to find Drift had untied himself
from the travois and was sharing with Cloud Walker some of the strange, fatty
sausages that the Longs had tossed down to them. Xavier exchanged Drift's
battlestaff for one of the sausages and settled down on the travois blanket
with a pained sigh, his ribs protesting every movement he made. "So," he said
in a gambit to draw his attention away from how minimal in taste the provided
food was. "How did you get roped into this?"
"It's my first Task of Akkala," Drift replied simply. "Apparently, I've
been loaned out to Artela to make sure this mission succeeds."
Xavier twitched. "Wonderful," he said, ears half-flattening in sarcasm. "I
wish someone had warned me that the gods had taken interest in this: I would
have come prepared for things to go drastically awry."
"If you hadn't been 'too busy' to attend the briefing at Long House, you
would have known that," Drift replied levelly.
Xavier took off his spare set of spectacles and pinched the bridge of his
muzzle between thumb and forefinger. Yes, that snub had been a mistake, he
admitted, one he should have known better than to commit. And speaking of
mistakes… He replaced his spectacles and took a deep breath to wash the
disrespectful tone out of his voice before the gods decided to take offense.
"All right. So this isn't the colossal waste of my talents that I thought it
was. If it's that important to get a pack of dire wolves out here, then I'd
better see what I can do to improve our chances." Xavier always carried a set
of eight metal rods hooked on his belt, each about a finger's width and about
six inches long. He had lost two during the avalanche, but he slid the other
six from their belt loops and examined them with his magesight. "Good," he
said finally. "It's a bit closer than I'd like, but they still have enough of
a charge for what I have in mind."
Drift eyed the leopard askance. "It always worries me when you say things
like that." Cloud Walker, too, looked slightly alarmed.
Xavier ignored them both. After taking a moment to weave a spell around the
metal rods, he held them out to Drift. "Here," he said, "take these and place
them end-up in the snow, equally spaced around the camp. We'll have no need to
worry about intruders tonight: any who try will get a /most/ unpleasant
surprise. Cloud Walker, I want you to dig a pit in the snow for a fire. Do
you understand me? We're not going a second night without one."
Cloud Walker sat down where he was and stared back at the leopard without
moving.
Xavier waited a few moments, returning the stare, and then scoffed.
"Wonderful. He doesn't understand a word, does he, Drift?"
"Yes, he does," Drift replied as he stooped to place the second lightning
rod, "but he's not going to do what you say. If I understand him right, he's
convinced there's something out in the woods and we'd be better off not
attracting its attention."
"Leave that to my wards," Xavier argued, and his face twisted into a pained
grimace when he had to pause for a bout of coughing. When he finally finished,
he spoke fast and in short breaths, trying to reduce the strain on his ribs.
"We need a fire. You're hurt, I'm hurt, I still can't see much beyond ten
feet, I'm freezing cold, there's a storm coming," he jabbed a finger toward a
bank of lowering clouds just starting to wisp their way around the mountains to
the west, "and I want warmth that doesn't smell of dog. I swear before
Kammoloth himself that if I wake up one more time with that wolf lying on me,
I'm going to shock him into next-"
Drift finally lost his patience with Xavier's complaints: Xavier, at least,
had not dragged a travois and load through thigh-deep snow all day with a
shoulder out of joint, nor been up all the previous night cutting the materials
for said travois out of the trees with just a dagger and some rope. "What is
the matter with you, Xavier? You've been bad-tempered and snarly ever since-"
"What's so hard to understand?" Xavier winced, his ribs protesting his
raised voice, but he continued anyway. "I've been drafted, dragged out to the
back end of nowhere to be a glorified weather vane, avalanched off a cliff-"
"You've been bad-tempered and snarly ever since your last visit home. Why?"
"That's none of your damned business," Xavier snapped. "Finish placing
those wards already. It's getting late."
"No. I'm not placing even one more until you tell me what's going on."
"Fine. Get eaten!"
"Fine! I think I will!
"Fine!"
"Fine!!"
Cloud Walker eyed the quarreling Keepers as if they were each slightly mad,
then heaved a sigh and got to his feet. Jerking the metal rods from Drift's
hands with his teeth, he placed each in the snow precisely as Xavier has
instructed. Then the dire wolf walked over to Xavier, knocked him down with a
forepaw swat, and lay down across his waist. When Xavier raised a hand to
shock him, he growled once and showed teeth, and then laid his shaggy head back
down when the leopard thought better of it.
"Huh," Drift said, and Xavier scowled at him for not even trying to keep the
amusement out of his voice. "I guess he's smarter than you thought."
"Oh, be quiet," Xavier retorted, and got growled at again when he tried
(without success) to push Cloud Walker off.
"The only question that remains, then," Drift continued, "is 'are /you/
smarter than /he/ thinks you are?'"
"Cute, Drift. Very cute."
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