Son, brother, lover, stranger… it was all part of the same river of life.

My heart ached.

“You will find Bao?” Dash’s dark eyes searched mine. “Find him and save him? He told me things and taught me-oh so many things! I know it was only a short time, but he became as a brother to me, an older brother. I always wanted one. Promise me, Moirin! You’ll save him, won’t you?”

I leaned my brow against his. “I will do my best, little brother. Nothing is certain. I can promise no more.”

Unegen coughed.

I kissed Dash on the cheek and stood. “Yes, Grandfather?”

“Eat and sleep,” he said with rough gentleness. “No time for stories tonight. You will need all your strength tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. You will not find it easy in the heights where the air is thin.”

I inclined my head toward him. “Thank you. I will heed your advice.”

The following day, I saddled my mare and loaded my pack-horse for the first time in weeks. The Tufani supervised the transfer of cargo to their own string of pack-horses. After all of us had checked our goods and supplies one last time, there was nothing left to do but say farewell.

Dash gave me one last hug, and so, to my surprise, did his grandfather. I was touched by the gesture, at least until the old fox reached around and gave my buttocks a firm squeeze, startling a squeak from me.

“Heh.” Unegen released me with a sly grin. “A man wouldn’t need dried root tonic with the likes of you.”

I shook my head at him. “You’re a bad man, Grandfather.”

His grin only widened. “I’m not your grandfather, girl, and that memory will keep me warm at night come winter.”

I didn’t mind, not really. There had been no malice in it, and if Unegen or any of the others had intended me harm along the way, they would have had ample chance to act on it. And it brought a moment of levity that made the parting easier.

All was in readiness.

On Dorje’s word, our company set out to begin the long climb over the foothills. At the top of the first, I paused to look backward. Unegen and Dash led the caravan of camels across the desert plain. Already, they looked small and distant.

“You grew fond of the boy,” Dorje observed.

“Aye, I did,” I agreed. “It’s just that my life seems to be filled with so many partings. It saddens me to think of how many good folk I’ve met that I’ll never see again.”

He leaned over in the saddle and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Do not let it sadden you, Moirin. You are blessed to have met so many worthy souls. It should gladden your heart to think on it.”

“Oh, I’ve met my share of unworthy ones, too,” I said.

“I do not doubt it.” Dorje’s expression was grave. “But I think the good ones outnumber the bad, do they not?”

I thought about my experiences among the Tatars, and nodded. Despite the Great Khan’s betrayal, I had found a great deal of kindness and generosity among his folk. “Yes.” I smiled at him. “And you are surely numbered among the good ones, Dorje. I will be sorry to part from you, too.”

He smiled back at me. “Everyone loves a tale of great romance, but it is seldom that one gets to play a part in one. I am happy we can help you on your quest to find your young man.” His expression turned grave again. “What will you do if you find he is well and truly under the Spider Queen’s thrall? Have you a plan?”

I shook my head. “No.”

It was a worry I had pushed to the back of my thoughts. I had to survive the desert and the mountains before figuring out how to free Bao from the clutches of a sinister queen abiding in an impregnable fortress ruled by her equally sinister husband.

The naïve, hopeful side of me wanted to believe that it would be easy, that all I had to do was find Bao, that once I did, the irresistible force of my diadh-anam calling to his would bring us together as simply and effortlessly as it had during the Tatar gathering that seemed so very, very long ago.

But since that time, I had been forced to confront my limitations. My diadh-anam was a symbol of living proof of the divine grace of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, of Her love for Her children, of the gifts She had given us.

And yet it was fragile and vulnerable, too.

As I had experienced all too vividly, it could be constrained by foreign magics. Never in my life had I felt more helpless than I had during my captivity in Vralia.

If it was magic that held Bao captive, it must be at least as powerful. More, mayhap. He was a skilled, clever fighter. I had no doubt that in my place, Bao would have found a way to escape his captors long before they crossed the mountains into Vralia, throttling them with his own chains.

But he hadn’t found a way to escape this.

By now I thought it unlikely that Bao was injured or ill, as I had first suspected. It had been too long. His condition would have improved or worsened, not remained in the same unchanging state for months.

Well and so, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? My new friend Dorje would say so. I made myself believe it, pushing my worries aside once more. When the time came, I would find a way. For now, it was enough to concentrate on the journey.

Our small caravan descended the far side of the first foothill, and began ascending the second. Although I was glad to leave the desert, the terrain was still harsh and barren. Dorje assured me that there would be lakes and pastures along the way, pockets of green, growing life.

I hoped so.

On the first day in the mountains, we crossed three enormous foothills and made camp at the base of the third.

On the morrow, we would enter the first great pass. After tending to my horses, I sat and breathed the Five Styles, watching swift dusk fall over the tall peaks on either side of it, blue shadows turning to darkness.

Bao had set out on this path alone.

I wondered if he had been scared.

I was.

FIFTY-ONE

On the second day, we entered the first pass.

We climbed upward, ascending into the Abode of the Gods.

Upward.

Upward.

Upward.

And although I was riding, and my poor, laboring mare-whom I had named Lady, for lack of a more creative inspiration-was doing all the work, still, my breath came short as the air grew thin.

I felt pressure building behind my eyes, making my head ache fiercely. Betimes, my vision grew dark and spangled.

Stubbornly, I refused to succumb to it. I focused my gaze on Lady’s bobbing ears and breathed the Breath of Wind’s Sigh, calling it into the space behind my eyes, embracing the height and the thin air.

When I did, the pressure eased. Once again, I was indebted to Master Lo’s teaching. The thought made me wistful, but it also served to increase my determination to find Bao and rescue him. It was unacceptable to think that Master Lo Feng had given his life to restore his magpie’s in vain.

The Tufani were at ease in the mountains, bright-eyed and cheerful, reveling in the heights. Throughout the long, arduous climb, their spirits rose. All along the caravan, they called back and forth to one another in their own tongue, laughing and jesting.

I envied and admired them, forcing myself to concentrate. The path through the pass was steep and narrow. Sure-footed though she was, from time to time, Lady’s hooves slipped and scrabbled on loose rocks. And I had my pack-horse, whom I called Flick, on a lead-line, and must not hurry him, letting him pick his way with equal care.

By the time we reached the path’s summit, the sun was beginning to set-or at least, so it seemed in the gorge, stark shadows settling over us.

And then we did reach the summit.

“Oh!” I blinked, startled. A shallow descent led to a green, sun-gilded valley. There was a small lake nestled there as though within a cupped palm, its waters a startling turquoise hue. To the east and west of us, immense snow-capped peaks soared skyward with untouchable majesty.