Waker Stone's eyes bulged a fraction farther from his skull. His head went back and a high braying noise exploded from his lips.

Effie stepped back. The noise continued and she realized quite suddenly that he was laughing. Behind her, Waker's father sniggered once in solidarity and then went quiet.

After a moment Waker calmed himself and looked her straight in the eye. "Girl, I promise you you're not going to no mine."

She waited but he said no more, simply picked up the sack and went about his business on the beach. As Effie watched him the memory she'd been grasping for all day rolled into place. Automatically, her hand reached for out for her lore. Girlie, girlie, girlie, girlie. Wonder why it wasn't early? Of course! Her lore hadn't warned her the night of the kidnapping. Her lore always alerted her to danger. Always. But not then. So why? It was a question she tried to answer as she gathered sticks for the fire.

THIRTEEN Stormglass

Raif dreamed he was awake and could not sleep. When he woke he lay on his bed, eyes closed, and rested. Today he would leave the Want.

Or try to.

Light angling through the clarified hide walls filtered into his mind's eye. Silvery rings floated across his vision. It was peaceful just to watch them for a while. Soon he found it was one of those rare times when he could picture Drey, Effie and Ash without feeling the pain of losing them. No hurt, no longing, just memories of their faces. Effie grinned, showing him a great big hole where her front baby teeth used to be. Drey was still, offering himself for inspection, his large brown eyes vigilant and unblinking. Ash was still also, but unlike his brother and sister, Raif could not see her clearly. Wind was moving through her long silvery hair and she smiled gently as her image faded.

Raif rose and dressed, scrubbed his teeth with pumice, drank a full pitcher of water, combed and rebraided his hair, shaved. Forming a pile of his possessions in the middle of the tent, he carefully inspected his weapons, waterskin, gear belt, the Orrl cloak and half a dozen other lesser things. Those items requiring care he carried outside.

Diffused sunlight shone across the dunes. A net of high clouds drifted overhead, and at ground level the wind was mild and halting. A lamb brother just beyond the tent circle was skinning a large carcass, rolling back the hide with one hand as he pared the pink, fatty flesh. With a shock, Raif realized they had slain the dead brothers mule.

He crossed to the fire. Three prayer mats were laid out side by side upwind of the smoke. Raif settled his possessions in the pumice and went to look at them. They were simply woven, made from dyed and polished wool. The background of the closest rug was the same deep brown as the lamb brothers' robes, and only two other colors had been used to weave the design: warm amber and silvery yellow. Raif recognized the buffalo and lambs from Tallal's story. The animals were lined up along the top border, as if ready to journey down the length of the rug. His gaze tracked the design. Exotic trees and animals he could not name formed small islands along the way. Suns picked out in the amber thread were shown rising between the cleft of two hills and setting on a flat desert plain. Resting atop the bottom border was a shining expanse of silver, worked to look like water. No, ice, Raif corrected himself, for some kind of bird stood atop it, pecking at the surface. The bird was worked in the same brown as the background and its features were hard to see. The only way to make them out was to study the overweave created by thread being placed on top of thread. Hairs rose along Raif's neck as he made out the shape of the bird's bill.

Briefly, he scanned the other two rugs. The designs differed but the story remained the same: the lambs and buffaloes on a journey toward the ice. He saw no more ravens and was relieved.

Returning to his equipment he studied the sky. He knew it was futile to judge time from the sun's position in the Want, but he could not break the habit of eighteen years. The air was like crystal today, revealing the landscape in sharp-cut lines and crisply focusing light The dunes had shifted while he slept and things that had once been covered were now revealed. Rocks as round as eggs, petrified tree limbs and a rack of antlers had emerged from the pumice overnight. Raif wondered what had become of Farli's body. Was there anything left for the dunes to cover? Did he want to go and find out?

No, he did not. Squatting by the fire, he picked up a birch pole and hooked the brass kettle that was resting on the edge of the coals. There were no cups, so he did not drink, just let his hands warm against the metal. When they were limber enough he set to work. The tension in his bow needed correcting, so he restrung it. Dry air had warped some of his arrows, so he whittled back the shafts. Last night's extreme cold had cracked part of the finish on the Orrl cloak, and Raif wondered if it could be fixed. As he ran his fingers over the surface, little chips of pearlized varnish fell off. Deciding he would need to consult with someone who knew about such things, he set the cloak aside and began oiling his leather goods instead. From time to time, out of the corner of his eye, he was aware of the lamb brothers moving around the camp. One went to consult with the man butchering the mule carcass, stayed for a while and then left. Raif thought it was probably Tallal. Later the same brother crossed to the corral and tended the ewe. It looked as if he were washing her mouth and teeth. No one approached the fire.

After a while Raif stopped and ate. Gluey rolls made of wheat and whey were warming in the cookpot. Curds of sheep's cheese with chunks of dried apricot stuffed inside made them taste both salty and sweet. The kettle was cooler now so he lifted it above his head and poured the sharp, greenish tea into his mouth. The movement sent a spasm of pain through his left shoulder.

When he was ready, Raif stood and made his way to Tallal's tent. In the eleven days that he'd been here he had learned many small things about the lamb brothers. One was the protocol for entering another's tent. Bending, Raif scooped a handful of pumice from the ground. With a light movement he threw the sand against the tent wall.

"Come," came Tallal's voice after a moment. It was telling that he had not spoken in his own tongue.

Raif entered the dim smokiness of the tent. Smudge lamps suspended from longbones ringed the room at waist height, giving off dull red light. Raif had not been in any other tent beside his own, and the differences drew his eye. Lambskins overlapped across the floor. The curve of a painted chest perfectly matched the curve of the tent and sat snug against the wall. There was no mattress, only a nest of thin yellow cushions piled around the central support. Hanging from the ceiling by lengths of wool thread were dozens of small leather pouches. Raif had to duck to avoid knocking them with his head.

Tallal was kneeling on one of the lambskins. His head was bare, the hood placed on a little bone stool by the door. Surprised, Raif hesitated to move farther into the tent.

"Sit," bid Tallal. "Look."

Holding his chin high, he watched Raif look at him. Proud, that was Raif's first thought. Tallal's black hair was cropped close to his skull. His cheekbones were wide and prominent and his brown lips were full. The three black dots above his nose were repeated on his chin, Just as with Farli, Tallal was younger than Raif had thought. Not young exactly, but far from old. Tallal's deep dark eyes with their strangely bluish whites tracked every shift in Raifs gaze. "Would you like to see my teeth?"

Raif thought Tallal might be gently mocking him, but couldn't be sure. "No."