mounted

to return . . . Still, this high, with small drifts of snow in the shadows and wind lees, and a greasy-rag sky promising worse, they should be left in peace.
Shael shivered. “To think a few days ago I was so hot, every time I breathed out I was scared I’d set fire to this horrible animal. Still, the worst is over now, isn’t it, Keilin?”
It was Bey who answered, however. “I smell snow. That gray sky is starting to look soft. How much longer to shelter . . . and how much higher?”
“Two passes. I was planning to overnight before the last neck. It was about three to four hours from there to Steyir . . . that’s the nearest village, where the turquoise traders and the fossickers meet and cheat each other.”
“Youth, if we spend tonight up here these beasts’ll freeze, and we might be here for a month. There’s really bad weather coming up. I say we stop skulking along and ride as fast as we can.”
* * *
The lights of Steyir shone like a beacon through the wind-driven snow. For the last hour Keilin had seriously thought they weren’t going to make it. It wasn’t a mean, smelly village now. It was a haven of light and warmth. Especially warmth. As they’d mounted the last pass, the wind, funnelled by the towering snowcaps all around them, had suddenly come howling and whimpering at them like a wolf in pain. With it came the first tiny flakes. As the after­noon died, more snow had begun to fall. So had the temperature with the coming of dark­ness. Once over the pass and down to the treeline they’d had to follow Beywulf’s nose, hunting fire smoke. Seeing the lights of the town, Keilin silently swore that he’d never belittle the sensitivity of that organ again. No wonder the man was such a master of food.
“S’truth. I never thought a measly village could look so good,” Cap said. “Has it got an inn, boy, or do we knock on doors for shelter?” His voice suggested that he’d knock a few down if he didn’t get it.
“There’s a tavern . . . but it’s just a bar really. Mostly the fossickers sleep over at Lucy’s . . .” said Keilin, the cold in his ears and nose overriding his brain for a while.
“Well, I suppose their doss house will do, boy. Lead us there, and be quick about it.”
The glow spreading up Keilin’s face partly thawed his nose. “Er . . . I’ve another idea.”
He led them off up a small lane to the house where he’d parted from Honest Clarence. It was more prosperous looking than most in the village, and set apart from them,