The river seized her chest. It was shockingly cold and dark. A paddle whacked her chin. As she gasped in pain her lungs took in water. Where was the surface? Was she underneath the boat? Panicking, she began thrashing her arms. When she tried to move her legs her body jerked with such force it was as if the floor had been snatched from beneath her. The leg irons snapped with the jolt of a returning bowstring. Stilled by the concussion she began to sink. Now that she looked up she saw that yes, she had been under the boat. Its peapod shape was a receding darkness against the light.

She fell deeper, and began to understand that strange currents were at work. Three rivers met here. She could feel them spinning her body as they emptied her brain of thoughts.

Swoopy movements, she thought inanely, that's what you're supposed to do with your arms to swim.

One of the bedrolls she'd packed that morning floated past her face. Breathing, she took in more water. The boat had become a thin line and she could no longer remember why it was important. It grew dark, or perhaps she closed her eyes: the difference hardly seemed important.

It was all easy-peasey now.

Down she went into the Wolf's maw, deep into the cold brown water. There was only one little niggle that surprised her. Who would have thought that the very thing she had avoided all her life would be down here? The seeking malevolence was moving through the water to intercept her. It was forming itself into a pike; elongating, solidifying, glittering as it conjured scales. The malevolence swam with great assuredness and growing strength. It didn't just prowl the open spaces, it knew the dark depths as well.

It was a revelation. Inside, outside: it didn't matter where she was, it would find her wherever she was weak.

A small quiver of fear passed through her, moving up from her feet to her head. The pike was almost upon her. She could see its pearly, razored teeth.

Suddenly she was yanked up and sideways. The pike's jaw snapped closed. Something broke. Effie Sevrance was pulled the long distance to the surface. It felt as if she were being sucked from a tube.

Afterward she didn't remember much of the time that followed. Waker's jelly eyes loomed big as he worked her chest like a water pump. Waker's father actually said things. Proper words, helpful words. Chedd Limehouse shivered and looked afraid. He was told a dozen times to Sit down and hold your place.

Effie smelled the good scent of woodsmoke and slept. Waker roused her in the night, made her drink water she did tnot want and felt her hands and feet. "She's bone cold."

She realized she must have been dreaming then, for Waker's father actually said, "We must build a bigger fire."

Some time later in the orange glow of firelight, Waker's father's face appeared above her own. He had the sneaky, pleased-to-be-himself look in his eyes as he leaned close to her ear and whispered his real name. He knew she would not remember it tomorrow.

Morning came, and even though the sun shone in her face and she was swaddled in the best and thickest blankets she could not stop shivering. Waker's father brought her purple tea and insisted she drink though its temperature was close to scalding. It tasted like fat.

Chedd came over and knelt by her head. After looking both ways to check that no one was in earshot he told her what had happened and where they stood. "South shore of the Wolf, on land claimed by Morning Star. Last night we could see the lights of a village."

Effie didn't have the energy to pull herself up and look around. The sky seemed nice and blue, and she could see that some of the trees were oaks and water chestnuts waiting to bud.

"Waker pulled you from the water. You'd been gone forever and we thought…I thought…" Chedd looked down. Tears squeezed from his eyes and he wiped them away with his shirtsleeve. "I had to hang on to the boat, Eff—I couldn't come and get you because of these." Rolling on his side, he brought his feet all the way up to her face so she could physically see his ankle chains. "I'm a good swimmer. I could have done it."

She believed him.

"Anyhows. No one knew where you were. Waker was in a state, diving and coming up. Waker's da tells him to hold on a mo' while he thinks. Waker's da's face gets all white and goosey and he points to a piece of water and says, She's down there. You should have seen Waker dive, like an otter after fish. He was down a long time, Eff. Me and his da started getting afraid. His da turned the boat and held it while I got in. Then he got in himself. And only then, when we were both sitting steady, did Waker break the surface with you."

Chedd wanted to tell her how she looked, but she stopped him; Effie did not want to know. Realizinpshe would soon need to pee, she asked him to help her to her feet. Gallantly, he squatted beside her and wrapped a thick arm around her waist. As she came to standing a wave of dizziness hit her. One hand ewe out for Chedd, who took it like a rock. The other hand went up for her lore.

But her lore wasn't there.

The pike had taken it.

TWENTY-ONE Alone and Armed in the Darkness

Traggis Mole's cronies were waiting for them when they returned from the overnight hunt. It was late afternoon and the light was deeply golden. Due to some subtle seasonal shift, the sun was perfectly aligned with the Rift in the west. Red radiance poured along the fissure, casting shadows that had no end.

Addie Gunn and Raif were dead tired. Both had stayed up late in the night hunting deer and then woke before dawn to try for more. Stillborn on the other hand had fallen asleep at sunset and stayed asleep until breakfast, when the smell of Addie roasting goat's heart had finally roused him. He'd been lively all day, even though he was the one hauling the majority of game. A full-grown doe was balanced, yokelike, across his shoulders. An impromptu sled made from lashed willow poles that held the snagcat pelt, various cuts of snagcat meat and a partially butchered fawn, was being pulled on a leash attached to his waist. Addie carried the butchered goat and its pelt in a game sack slung over his shoulder, and Raif carried a mixed bag of ribs, spines, pelvises and longbones that could be boiled and scraped for meat, marrow and fat. All three of them smelled like blood, but Raif found he did not much dislike it. It reminded him of longhunts with with Da and Drey.

"At least he sent the pretty ones" was all Stillborn said as they approached the eastern ledge.

Two Maimed Men awaiting them on the rimrock were armed with thick spears of blackened and case-hardened iron. One wore an armored cloak; a half-circle of boiled and pleated leather mounted with coin-sized metal rings that had to weigh at least twenty pounds. The other man wore chainmail that had rusted around the armpits and a wool kilt over wool pants. Both men appeared whole, but Raif knew better than to be fooled by that. Everyone in the Rift was missing something, and experience had taught him that imperfections that did not immediately meet the eye were usually the worst kind.

Some instinct, perhaps fear or simple habit, made Raif stretch out a hand to read the air. The headwind was light and from the north. Updrafts rising from the Rift were fitful and without force.

Shucking off the bag of bones and letting it drop onto the green granite of the ledge, he said to Addie and Stillborn." Take the meat. Go on ahead."

The little cragsman shook his head and was about to tell Raif exactly what he thought of that idea when Stillborn also shook his head. A single, curt shake aimed at silencing Addie Gunn.

"Come on," Stillborn said, somehow managing to clap Addie on the shoulder while still balancing the deer. "Lets make sure our Rift Brothers get the meat."