Bram listened to the sound of the trees moving, the hemlocks shushing and the old oaks creaking like swinging doors. Leaves had budded on the elms too early and the frost was rotting them off.

Not thinking any answer was required from him, Bram kept his silence. It seemed as if the world had sharpened. He could see the light in the snow as well as upon it, see the blues and greens that waited there like memories of water. The shadows were darker and more menacing, biding behind trees like coiled springs. When he saw his footprints had exposed earth as well as pine needles, he graded the stones. Nothing shiny or unusual. Nothing that went against the grain.

When Hew Mallin's circuit turned him back toward Bram, he spoke. "You have guessed what the second question is but I will ask it anyway. Formalities serve their purpose." The ranger halted three feet from Bram and pinned him with a gaze so sharp Bram felt it cut like a wire through his head. "I, Hew Mallin of the Brotherhood of the Long Watch, ask you, Bram Cormac son of Mabb, to leave the clan-holds with me this night and beginning training as a ranger for the Phage."

J cannot. Yet he was stirred beyond all sense. Hew Mallin was shaking. So was Bram. "Do you teach the histories?"

"Knowledge is power."

It was a yes. Bram swallowed. "I have spoken an oath to Castlemilk."

"Break it.. The gods are dead, and what remains is here to destroy, not judge us."

But the stones. Ogmore said the gods' presence could be read in the stones. Close to panic now, Bram thought about Ogmore waiting in the guidehouse, of Dalhousie training in the Chum Hall with Mabb's sword, of Wrayan Castlemilk standing in the water and saying, Now you are a Castleman for a year.

"My sword?"

"Swords kill. As long as a blade is sharp one will do as well as another."

Bram breathed in great gouts of air. The snow was dazzhng him it was so full of light. He should not have come, that was his mistake. Should have walked right past Hew Mallin and taken the door-within-the-door.

Wrayan Castlemilk knew, Bram realized quite suddenly. She had only come to deliver Robbie's greetings and gift him with Guy Morloch's horse after the ranger had made the crossing.

But Dalhousie had not known. Nor had Drouse Ogmore.

And what of Robbie?

Did he send any message?

No.

A muscle pulled deep within Bram's chest. Hawk and spider, knowledge and sword: here was everything he wanted … and more. Meeting Hew Mallin's yellow-green gaze he gave the ranger his answer and broke First Oath.

By nightfall Bram Cormac had started a new life.

THIRTY-EIGHT A Pox Upon the Heart

Raif Sevrance was awoken by a mule lipping his ear. Through sleepy, focusing eyes he saw many big teeth and a ridge of pink gums. Wet lips tickled him, and a little push of air revealed stupendously bad breath. Raif thought it would be a good idea to move, tried to move, but somehow could not roll off his stomach onto his back. Islands of pain—that's what they felt like, lumps of hurt sticking out above water level—emerged from the fog of sleep. His left shoulder was throbbing. The midsection of his left arm, but not the top, was so tender that the weight of the blanket resting upon it was excruciating.

He was in a tent and blotches of light were coming through the uneven canvas overhead. The mule walked a few feet and began crunching on quartered onions that had been placed on a wooden board. A second animal stood some distance behind the mule; a white horse with a long, fountainlike tail. Its brown-blue eye watched Raif with both interest and caution.

Voices were coming from outside the tent and Raif was relieved to hear Addie Gunn say quite clearly, "I think we've seen the end of the snow."

Raif croaked Addie's name. Even the mule didn't look up. The blanket that was pulled up to his chin felt like sandpaper, and he tried to push it down with a motion of his right shoulder. Something wasn't right with his back. Something was there. Like a growth.

"Addie," he cried. "Addie."

"Whoa, laddie," the cragsman responded from outside the tent. "I hear you. I'm coming."

Footfalls followed. Onion wedges dropped from the mule's mouth as it turned to look at the person entering the tent. Addie came into view. His eyes were very gray and bright. Quickly squatting by Raif's pillow, the cragsman said, "It's good … good to see you awake." "It's good to be awake."

Addie Gunn seemed to find some wisdom in this. "Aye," he agreed softly. "It usually is."

The cragsman left him briefly to fetch water from a tin canteen insulated with mouse fur. "D'you think you can get up to drink it?" he said frowning from the canteen to Raif and back again. Raif tried to roll onto his back.

"No," Addie said in a dither, setting down the canteen and rushing forward. "You can't put weight on your back. The thing's there,"

"What thing?" Raif heard the panic in his voice, and forced some movement from his spine.

'The pox—on your heart." Kneeling, Addie helped Raif to execute a half roll onto his side, and then clamped him around the head and heaved him into a sitting position.

"I hope you were gentler with your sheep," Raif said, dizzy with pain and seeing red splotches before his eyes. He could feel it now, something sticking out from his back, sucked hard against his skin. Rotating his neck as far as it would go, he saw something moving in a place where there should have been fresh air. Raif s right hand came up to swat it away, but the cragsman's hand was faster.

Gripping Raif s wrist so hard it shook, the cragsman said, "It's a poultice of leeches and right now it's the only thing keeping you alive. That piece of shadow is pushing against your heart and those leeches—gods bless their black little souls—are sucking the other way."

Oh gods. Raif relaxed the tension in his wrist and Addie released his grip. He thought he might be sick. "What's keeping them back there?" Addie shrugged. "They gorge, they drop off. Old Flawless sticks another one right in place. He's built up plaster around the wound so they can't crawl away and find a better spot. Had to cut into your skin to give the plaster something to bind on to, so I'm telling you now I ain't fetching no mirror." Addie paused to let the full meaning of this sink in. His gaze was frank and unflinching. "Here. Drink water. Be glad you're alive."

Raif took the eanteen with his left hand, testing. The muscles were sore in the same way they would be if he'd chopped wood all day. And all night. Aware that Addie was waiting for some response from him, some sign that everything was all right with Raif Sevrance, he said, "Water's good."

It was enough to satisfy Addie Gunn, and Raif could see something physically easing in the cragsman, a softening around the shoulders. "Old Flawless adds a pinch of soda to it. Who'd a thought to do such a thing?" He appeared genuinely impressed. "That Trenchlanders full o' tricks."

Addie's accent got thicker when he was distressed or relieved, Raif realized for the first time. "How long have I been out?" "Three days."

Raif understood then the worry he had caused his friend. "I'm sorry, Addie."

Throwing a hand out, the cragsman rose to standing. "A man can hardly go apologizing for dropping clean dead. And even if he did it'd take a hard sort of nutgall to accept it." Again, the eyes were bright.

From the back of the tent, the Sull horse made a wicking noise and threw back its beautiful elongated head.

"Easy, lady," Addie said, using his sheep voice. He walked over and gently knuckled her nose. The animal pushed against him, calmed. "What happened?" Raif asked.

Addie sighed. "You fell. Just crumpled clean at the knees right by the drying rack. Me and Gordo upped and ran straight for you.