Masques (Sianim 01) by Patricia Briggs

Author:Patricia Briggs [Briggs, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-02-10T07:00:00+00:00

Aralorn nodded. “They don‟t like fire, so make sure that there are torches ready. This lot”—she swung a hand in the general direction of others in the cavern—“will fight better with torches than swords.”

Myr gave her a tired smile. “And no worries about how to light the torches either, with this assortment of amateur magic-users. I think that the only one who can‟t light a torch with magic is me.

Haris!” He caught the attention of the smith who was organizing the storage of supplies. “I want a bonfire laid in the entrance and someone who can light it from a distance stationed to watch for the Uriah.”

Haris nodded, and Myr returned his attention to Aralorn.

“There are three or four here who should be able to light the fire from a good distance. I‟ll station them in relays.”

Aralorn shivered in her still-damp clothes. “I don‟t know if they‟ll come inside the caves. There is some kind of warding near the entrance; you can see the markings if you want to look. Wolf must have set them. I suspect that the warding was the reason that Edom wouldn‟t enter the caves. Do you remember?”

Myr nodded. “When we were looking for Astrid, yes.”

Aralorn continued. “If it works like the spells that shapechangers use, the Uriah won‟t even see the caves unless we are lighting fires and running in and out to attract their attention. The trail that we took up here is virtually a stream from the melting snow, so that in a little while there will be no sign that we came this way.”

“I‟ll see that everyone stays inside.” Myr started to go; someone was calling to him from a storage cave. “Aralorn?‟

“Yes?”

“Change your clothes for something dry, before you catch lung-fever. You can use something of mine if you need to. My packs are marked over against the far wall.”

“Thanks.” She made her way to his packs, unmistakable because of the embroidered dragon that glared at her as she rifled through his belongings. True shapeshifters could probably alter the clothes that they were wearing, but Aralorn had no idea how to go about it. She pulled out a pair of plain trousers and a tunic of a dark hue (she couldn‟t see the color in the shadows of the cave) and, best of all, a pair of dry cotton stockings.

With clothes in hand, she hunted down an unoccupied cranny and exchanged the wet clothes for the dry ones. The oil coaling on the boots worked boiler in snow than in rivers. The water had run in from the top and been prevented from leaving by the oil on the outside, so that they were marshy inside. Aralorn dried them out as best she could and pulled them on over her newly acquired socks.

She had hoped for better results.

She surveyed herself wryly when she was done. Myr was not tall, for a man, which left him only a head or so taller than she. He was, however, built like a stone wall.

Well,

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