When Halis woke, our journey began again. I half-carried her across the endless white snow, now and then slipping, more frequently resting. She seemed to grow heavier with each step.
The brightness of the sun hurt my eyes, but I turned my face to it to glean every bit of warmth. The world was made of ice--jutting half-walls, fractured mountains and smooth veinless marble all jumbled together, without patterns. Here, wind and sleet and sun were the only forces and chance the only god.
After a while I ceased being cold. The white fields reminded me of home, with its long white beaches and blue sky and the surf rolling unendingly against the sands.
Halis moved like a sleepwalker, eyes glazed and gait stilted. Once she stopped, squinting against the glaring white snow as though seeing the ice fields for the first time.
"The Ulbari are still following us?"
I looked back over the white hills, saw nothing. "Yes."
She fixed her gaze on me and cocked her head inquiringly. "Where are we going?"
"The sea." The settlements in this inhospitable land lay primarily along the coast, and I knew that if we made it there we would be able to find one without too much trouble.
A slight smile brushed across her lips and she resumed walking, on ahead of me.
The Elanian priests called the sea healer and life-giver, harborer of food and mystery, watery birthplace of the gods. Mother to us all. But to me the sea was a cold place, distant and uncaring, remote and dangerous.