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Chapter EightThey rode fast and steady for the next several hours. Fortunately, the road threw no further obstacles at them. Jinissa gradually regained her mental equilibrium, although the humiliation of her behavior still burned. As the afternoon passed, though, other worries began to take precedence. First and foremost was the problem of making it to the next shelter before nightfall. At the speed they were traveling, she couldn't ask Stephan how far it was.
In addition, the temperature was dropping again, and clouds gathered overhead. Not only did that argue for a chance of bad weather in the near future, but it also meant an early sunset and an even greater possibility of being too far from shelter when the wolves began to prowl.
From the elevations she could see around her, Jinny deduced they were nearing the highest altitude they would reach. Periodic stretches of treeless plain let her see the road winding ahead, flanked by higher mountains on either side.
They made good time, though, and reached the next shelter before complete darkness had descended. No wolves disturbed their trip. Exhaustion from the mental stress of the cliff path and the physical exertion of the fast, steady ride had begun to fuzz her mind by then.
The cabin they found this time was more elaborate than the previous shelters. The main building had two rooms, one of which featured a rope-sprung bed and straw-stuffed mattress, cabinet, hip bath and even a few extra bits of clothing hung on pegs. The other room had several chairs, a rough table, a dry sink, and several more cabinets in addition to the fireplace and tools. Once again, a sizeable stack of cut woodwaited ready for use.
As usual, Stephan settled the animals in the building provided for them while she built the fire and started water boiling.
He came in with the packs and accepted a cup of tea from her, sipping it while he warmed himself in front of the fire. His mouth twitched a couple of times and he rubbed at his eyes, dragging his fingers down the length of his face and pinching the bridge of his nose as though it ached. His shoulders were held rigidly tight. The way he stared into the flames, eyes narrowed and brow pulled into a frown, made her wonder if he had something troubling on his mind. When he turned toward her abruptly, she wasn't entirely surprised.
"You said earlier you could get rid of those rocks on the path if I removed the sigil. I wouldn't have believed it, but I saw ... at the shrine. You weren't exaggerating," he said, making the words sound like an accusation.
"Whatever you may think of me, I don't lie any more than I have to," she answered. "I'm not very good at it."
He shook his head. "I lived with the Calavrians for a while. None of them could do anything like that. Small sparks for fires, a breeze here and there to dry clothes in an emergency, that was about the limit for most people. I once saw a group of men use magic to move a single, large stone. They were all too exhausted to work--they could barely move--for the rest of the day. Yet you claim you could have dealt with all those rocks yourself. After seeing what happened when we passed the shrine, I believe it, too. But I never met anyone in the town who could use power like that. They said some of the nobles could." He looked at her and held her gaze with the force of his own will. "What are you?"
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