him somewhat roughly to the lodge, but his head never sank below the waterline.
"Can't you do some magic here, Og? I don't want to dip into that water again." Claria stood frowning at the river's edge.
"I'm a little worn out, if you please. And I haven't had a drink since before we left Sumifa," said Og, his eyes bleary and tired behind his huge, sun-blistered nose.
"Are there no rafts?" asked Cheyne.
"We keep nothing around that would provide access to our lodge by our enemies. Unfortunately, it discomfits our friends as well. It will be a quick crossing, though the water will be unnaturally cold," said Frijan to the others. "Concentrate on your breathing and know that we will be there to bear you up should you falter."
Claria set her jaw and went next, under her own power, then Og with Cheyne's help. Wiggulf and Frijan brought up the rear, visible only as sleek, dark streaks under the low fog.
As the cold, black water swirled around his head, Cheyne felt rinsed of the layers of salt from the seawa-ter, his skin soothed by the river's gentle current. But for Og clinging to his back, he could almost have fallen asleep, sinking down into frigid peace, forgetting why he had ever wanted to be anywhere else. At length, Claria brushed against him, and he reached numbly for the rock that appeared in front of him.
"Cheyne, are you all right?" She crawled up after him onto the river-worn boulder.
"I think so. Yes." He shook his head, clearing it, his thoughts coming sharper and faster again. A few seconds passed before Wiggulf and Frijan appeared from behind them.
"You did well. Despite our best efforts, the water is still fouled with deathsleep from Drufalden's cold heart. Let's get inside where the fires are. You're all shaking," said Frijan, climbing over the smooth rocks to a wooden platform.
Og slung off his pack and dripped steadily, regard2 1 6
Teri McLaren
ing the selkie's blue-and-purple earring, which he still clutched tightly in his hand.
"I might be able to help you," the songmage managed to stutter, despite his chattering teeth. "But I'll need to ask to keep your stone," he added quietly, his eyes upon Wiggulf.
"My daughter knows the state of our affairs with Drufalden far better than I at this time, Ogwater. I must defer to her judgment."
Frijan shrugged, pointing to the doorway. "When Drufalden's heart thaws, the river will be warm and the fish will return. Until then, we suffer her icy curse. And we need the stone. I can never give it up."
"No, I mean, I could really help you. With the river," said the songmage, reluctantly handing the sapphire to Frijan under Cheyne's hard glance.
Frijan peered at him intently, then turned to examine Wiggulf s solemn face. "All right, we will counsel together."
Cheyne and Claria helped Yob up the slippery, ice-encrusted stairs, and soon they were all resting, higher and drier, in the great hall of the lodge around a crackling driftwood fire.
"Move faster, Rotapan. I have never been this cold in my entire life," complained Riolla through her chattering teeth. "How does Drufalden bear this?"
She pulled her thin silk robe around her shoulders more tightly and gave the half-ore a bit of a kick. He turned on her with sharp little fangs bared, but then remembered that Saelin, who had wordlessly joined them moments earlier, was once again at his heels, and hurried his steps a bit more. It was hard going. Drufalden's mountain was really an old burned-out volcano, and the sides were covered in alternate patches of thick ice and barren lava runs, which were encrusted by layers of hardened ash and natural glass