Velindre rapidly sorted through her gowns for those of the heaviest wool and moved to her washstand to gather up soap and toothpowder and her silver-backed hairbrushes.

Would she come looking for her daughter herself? One of her father's cruelly apposite jokes prompted a thin smile. It must be her mother's affinity for air that gave her moods that veered as rapidly as the grasshopper weathervane on the tower of Wellery's Hall. Velindre knelt to pull the straps of her bag tight with vicious jerks. More to the point, her mother's rivalry with Otrick hadn't died with the old wizard.

She would dearly love to learn the trick of summoning dragons.

Twisting to reach the laces tied at the small of her back, Velindre shed her gown and petticoats for a close-fitted bodice and divided riding skirt. Picking up her purse she thrust it deep in a secure pocket.

She drew on a second pair of thick stockings before finding heavy buckled boots in the bottom of the cupboard. With the laden bag dragging at her arm, Velindre returned to her study and shrugged a thick cloak around her shoulders from a hook behind the door. She closed her eyes and finally allowed herself to feel the currents of air stirring in the room.

There was the dry draught coming under the door, heavy with the tang of stone in the dust it carried.

Tight-fitted as the windows were, faint breaths of the rain-rich air outside eased through the casements and swirled around the room. The draught from the stairwell curled around the furniture as the air from outside brushed along walls and ceiling. Both currents were inexorably drawn to the fireplace as the heat from the coals sucked at the air in the room. The fire drove away the volatile moisture but had less success banishing the implacable touch of stone. It lost interest, settling for driving the warm air up the chimney, throwing it to the mercies of wind and weather above. Released, the air rushed away, exulting, mocking the fire, revelling in its return to the endless dance that encircled the world.

The air around Velindre crackled with eagerness. She felt its desire to be gone, to join that dance. Puresapphire light surrounded her, bright even through her closed eyes. Brighter than the crisp chill over Inglis.

Pale as icy dawn over snow-capped peaks on that far horizon, where the blue-white of the glaciers melted imperceptibly into the sky. As she drew ever more air to her, pressing it to the service of her spell, Velindre remembered the room where she had stood to see that view. Not the most prized room the Flower of Gold could boast, but luxurious enough for her and Otrick. She pictured the frame of the window, the wide-eaved roofs beyond, every detail of the distant mountains.

Now the elemental air was shaking her to her very bones, desperate to do her bidding, to carry her wherever she wanted. Velindre gripped the handles of her bag, the ridges of the stitching digging into her palms. Blue light blinded her. Its touch was a shiver on her skin. It rang in her ears on the very edge of hearing. Cold breath filled her lungs, invigorating, cleansing. Eyes snapping open, she gave the magic its freedom and the room vanished in a burst of sapphire fire.

A woman screamed. Velindre raised a hand and scrubbed at her eyes to drive away the disorientation of working the spell over such a long distance. The woman paused to refill her lungs with a shuddering gasp and screamed again.

Still dazzled, Velindre saw that she had arrived in the bedchamber she'd envisaged to find a balding, middle-aged man and a matronly woman staring at her, mouths open. What they were doing abed in the middle of the afternoon was immediately apparent from the clothes strewn haphazardly around the floor.

The woman was too astounded to think of covering her pendulous breasts but the man was clutching the brightly embroidered counterpane to his nether regions, a furious blush staining his jowls. He glanced with wrathful frustration at a sword belt hanging from a chair by the merrily crackling fireplace and Velindre realised that the overriding urge for modesty was all that was keeping him from the weapon.

'I apologise for the intrusion. Forgive me. I'll leave you to your . . .' Gritting her teeth against the belated realisation that scrying ahead might have been advisable, she unlocked the door with a snap of magic and slid through it. As she secured it behind her with another instant spell, she heard the frantic jangling of a bell down below.

Curse the aging lecher and his fat, foolish paramour. Didn't they have better things to do with their time?

She certainly did. Velindre managed to get half-way down the hall before a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her. She leaned against the polished wooden panelling of the corridor and fought the dizziness shivering down from her head to her toes.

'Madam?' The blurred figure of a chambermaid appeared. 'Are you all right?'

'I am, thank you.' Velindre forced her leaden feet down the stairs as the maid hurried onwards to answer the insistent bell's summons. Her knees felt weak and treacherous and the bag she carried seemed twice as heavy as it had in Hadrumal. Stiffening her spine with sheer determination, Velindre reached the inn's spacious hallway before shouts up above turned curious faces to the painted ceiling. She slipped out of the main door and hurried away down the sloping street. No one raised any hue and cry before she vanished from sight.

The cold outside was biting. Velindre's fingers ached with it and she realised her gloves were buried deep in her luggage.

'Carry your bag for you, lady?' A hopeful youth hopped over a trampled gap in the thigh-high ridge of grubby snow swept into the gutter between the high road and the flagway. Bright as the sun was, the winter's chill was far too well established for the heaps to melt. Lines of soot marked successive snowfalls. 'Where are you headed?' He wore fur-trimmed hide boots and thick chequered wool breeches beneath a sheepskin jerkin with long sleeves and a high upturned collar that almost reached the knitted cap pulled low over his ears.

'Can you recommend a quiet inn?' Velindre tried to curb her shivering as she surveyed the boy. Blond brows hinted at the Mountain blood that so many shared hereabouts. He had a round, honest face and an engaging smile, which probably meant he was a complete rogue. Honest and dishonest alike made a living serving the traders who were always coming and going in a city like Inglis.'Don't even think of running away with that.' Proffering her bag, Velindre surprised the boy by winding bonds of clinging air around his feet and knees. 'I'm a mage of Hadrumal and if you rob me, you'll regret it to the end of your unfortunately curtailed days.'

He looked down, wide-eyed. Velindre curled a single tendril around his waist and pulled it tight to cut short his startled gasp. She smiled and let the magic go with a momentary flare of magelight. 'On the other hand, if you help me with intelligence and discretion, I'll reward you handsomely. Do we understand one another?'

'Yes, my lady,' the lad said with a rush of apprehension and excitement.

Seeing honest greed outweighing the guile in his eyes, Velindre let him take the bag. 'Take me to the closest inn that caters to guests of reasonable quality.'

'There's the Rowan Tree, my lady. Will that do?' he offered hesitantly. 'I'm Kerrin, my lady.'

'Are you?' she replied with little interest. 'If that's the closest suitable inn, it will do.'

Abashed, the youth didn't say anything else, simply ushering Velindre towards a wide crossroads where trampled snow gleamed, treacherous as ice, in the interstices of the cobbles. She followed him towards a prosperous-looking building fronted by dark marble steps. It took all her resolution to climb the short flight of stairs, her hand shaking as she gripped the cold iron balustrade.

'A private parlour.' Velindre fixed a supercilious hall lackey with a piercing glare. 'Hot water and herbs.

Quick as you like.'

The lackey stood his ground. 'I'm not sure we can accommodate you, my lady.'

Velindre reached inside her cloak and fumbled with the strings of her purse with numb fingers. She tossed a couple of coins on the polished stone floor. 'I think you'll find you can.'

The lackey wasn't proof against Tormalin gold crowns. 'Of course, my lady. Forgive me. Ametine!' He scrabbled for the coins, trying to bow and to indicate the door of a private parlour at the same time.

'Hot water, if you please,' Velindre repeated to the startled maid shooting out of the kitchen. 'And herbs for a tisane. Now, if you please.' She handed the girl her cloak.

The boy Kerrin shoved open the parlour door and Velindre went in. Her eyes fastened on a lavishly cushioned day bed beneath a window opening on to a quiet, snow-covered yard.

'What now, my lady?' The boy dropped her bag on the neat carpet with a dull thud.

'There are things I need you to buy for me.' Velindre sank on to the green velvet cushions and fought to stop her eyes from closing. 'A heavy fur cloak, hat and gloves. Don't think to fob me off with rubbish or to make me pay Toremal prices. Inglis is awash with fine furs at this season, with the trappers coming back from a winter in the mountains. I want a well-mannered saddle-horse hardy enough to take me up into the hills. It'll need grain and I want food for a journey of ten days or so. The minimum, mind you; I don't want the bother of a pack animal. Find me a warm blanket and an oilskin for good measure.'

She broke off as the hall lackey appeared with an obsequious smile and a brass oil lamp with a frosted glass chimney. The golden light warmed the chestnut wainscoting.

'We're nowhere near a thaw, my lady,' objected Kerrin, shifting from foot to foot.

'Did I ask for your opinion?'Velindre raised her brows at him in spurious enquiry. 'No, I thought not. Can you do what I want or does this lackey earn the commission I'm prepared to pay?'

The lackey's eyes brightened.

'I can do it for you,' Kerrin assured her hurriedly.

'Leave me your belt.' She pointed at the tooled leather strap cinching his sheepskin tight to his waist.

'My lady?' He was confused.

'Leave it or just leave,' she said coldly. 'As long as I have something of yours, I can find you with my magic. In that case, I'll trust you with my gold. If not, you can be on your way and this lackey can see to my needs.'

The lackey suddenly looked rather less than eager.

The boy chewed lips chapped from the long winter cold. 'All right.' He slowly unbuckled the belt and laidit on the round table in the middle of the room.

'What's your business here, my lady mage?' asked the lackey fawningly as he stirred the banked fire and added fresh logs from the basket.

'None of your concern,' she told him crisply, fighting the weariness threatening to tighten across her brow into a headache. 'I shall be on my way before nightfall as long as this boy can find me a horse and provisions. Until then I want some peace and privacy. Provide it and you'll be handsomely paid.' She turned her attention to Kerrin and held out a handful of weighty gold coins. 'Waste your time and mine idling with your cronies and you'll regret it.' She glanced at the lackey. 'I shall want a shallow bowl of cold water and some ink for scrying after the boy.'

'Yes, mistress.' The lackey took his opportunity to depart.

'I'll be quick as I can, my lady.' Kerrin ran a finger around the inside of his collar, sweat beading his forehead.

'Your tisane, madam.' The maid Ametine nudged the door open with an elbow, a heavy wooden tray balanced on her other hip. She set it on the table and the tall silver jug breathed a puff of steam. Her eyes widened at the sight of the gold Kerrin was tucking inside his glove. 'Can I blend you a tisane, my lady?' She smiled eagerly, brushing her hands on her skirts. 'We have borage and chamomile, linden, dog rose, valerian-'

'A scant spoonful of dog rose,' Velindre interrupted, 'with just a touch of chamomile and the same of valerian.' She snapped her fingers to regain Kerrin's wandering attention. 'When you've found a suitable horse, bring it here. I'm not paying up till I've seen it for myself.'

The maid spooned dried herbs into a hinged ball of pierced silver, setting it in a tall glass with a silver holder and pouring in hot water. 'Honey, my lady?'

'Thank you.' Velindre nodded before fixing Kerrin with a penetrating stare. 'Well, what are you waiting for?'

Ametine brought the tisane over, ducking a curtsey. 'Will that be all, my lady?'

'A bowl of plain water,' Velindre said again, 'and some ink.'

Kerrin's shoulders flinched as he left the room.

'At once, my lady.' Ametine bobbed her way backwards to the door and disappeared.

Velindre blew the steam from her drink and sipped it carefully. Grimacing at the heat, she cooled it with a breath of enchanted air. That was better. Now she had better get some rest, if she was to be out of the city by nightfall. There might not be many mages who could travel such a distance with a single translocation spell but she was no more immune to the draining effects of working such magic than any other wizard. Careful to keep her boots off the cushions, she drank down the tisane and set the glass cup on the floor. Lying back against the padded headrest of the day bed, she let her eyes drift closed as she waved a hand at the door. The lock snicked and vivid blue light ran around the frame before vanishing into the wall. Velindre was already asleep.

A tentative knock at the door stirred her.

'My lady?' It was the maid Ametine.

Velindre woke at once and was pleased to find that she was well refreshed. She was less well pleased to see that the winter sun had already quit the sky outside, leaving only its golden afterglow on high, pale clouds. 'Come in.' She waved a hand and the door unlocked itself, swinging open.

Watching it with some misgiving, Ametine hovered on the threshold with a tray holding ewer, bowl and snowy towel.

Velindre realised belatedly that no one had brought her water and ink for scrying. Was she going to need it?

'He's back, the boy,' the maid stammered. 'With two horses.'

'Is he? Come in, girl.' Velindre swung her feet to the floor and stood up, shrugging discreetly to easeuncomfortable rucks in the chemise beneath her bodice and skirt. 'I wonder, is there a man born who can do exactly what he's asked, no more and no less?'

'Sure I don't know, my lady.' Ametine offered a hesitant smile, setting the tray down on the table.

Velindre carefully washed the sleep from her eyes and dried her face. 'I wonder what he's brought for my gold. Where is he?'

'Out the back, my lady.' The maid bobbed an uncertain curtsey.

'Let's go and see.' Velindre found her gloves and rebuckled her bag. 'My cloak, if you please.' She left the boy's belt on the table. Let him ask for it back, if he had the nerve.

'This way, my lady.' The maid led the way through the kitchen passages to the Rowan Tree's extensive stable yard, collecting Velindre's brushed cloak from a peg as they went. The lackey she'd encountered earlier was nowhere to be seen but Kerrin was waiting on the swept cobbles, a horse's reins in each fist. He grinned widely as Velindre appeared in the doorway. 'Here we are, madam mage.'

'Good evening to you.' A dour-faced man was standing nearby, muffled up against the cold.

'These are your beasts?' At the man's nod, Velindre set down her bag and pulled on her cloak, considering the animals in the light of the lamps already lit around the stable yard. Both were unrelieved brown with black manes, their forelocks falling over blunt, undistinguished faces. Heavy-set beasts, they were none too tall in the shoulder but deep in the body and thick in the leg. Their rugged coats ran down to feathery wisps falling over wide, black hooves shod with sturdy steel.

Velindre walked forward and held out a hand for the first to sniff. It shied away from her, a rim of white around its dark, liquid eyes. Velindre turned to the other horse, which sniffed the fur-lined kidskin without reaction, shifting its hooves with a grating noise. Velindre rubbed her hand down the horse's thick neck and felt it quiver beneath her as the animal nosed forward, ears pricking.

'Good lad,' she soothed as she pulled off a glove, bending to run her hand down the front of his foreleg.

With wizard senses to augment her touch, she could be certain there was no heat or swelling in the leg.

At her prompt, the horse lifted his sturdy hoof for her inspection. After checking all four legs and feet, Velindre stood upright and rubbed the animal's velvety muzzle with a smile for the obliging animal. 'I'll try this one,' she said to the horses' owner.

'As you like,' said Kerrin readily. 'This one's a bit flighty, I'll grant you, but he won't give me bother.'

Velindre looked quizzically at him. 'I don't recall offering to buy you a horse.'

Kerrin chewed his lip. 'You're not going up into the hills alone, my lady, surely?'

'I certainly am,' she assured him, moving to check the girth on the saddle of her chosen horse. She pulled it tight and poked the animal in the ribs just for good measure in case it was inclined to hold its breath.

'Where's the mounting block?'

'You're not setting off now?' Ametine gasped, wringing her hands in confusion. 'It's nigh on dark.'

'What has that to do with anything?' asked Velindre with ominous calm. 'Or with you, for that matter?'

She settled herself in the saddle and, walking the horse carefully around the yard, she nodded with satisfaction at the animal's well-schooled responsiveness. 'You'll do, won't you?' She patted his shoulder and turned her attention back to the disgruntled youth now leaning against the wall by the back door of the inn. 'Did you get the provisions I asked for? And everything else?'

The boy rubbed a hand over his head, knocking his knitted cap awry. 'Well, yes, but-'

'Go and get them,' Velindre invited with a hint of irritation. 'Now, Ametine, isn't it? My luggage, if you please?' Ametine brought the heavy leather bag over and Velindre secured it to the metal rings attached to the front of the saddle.

Kerrin appeared from a tack room by the outer arch of the yard carrying an oilskin bundle bound with leather straps in his hands, bulky furs slung over one shoulder and a small sack hanging from the other arm. 'I did what you bid, but you can't be thinking-'

'The cloak, if you please.' Velindre held out a commanding hand. 'Tie everything else to the back of the saddle.'

'But madam-'

She cut off his protest by pulling the cloak off his shoulder. Standing in her stirrups, she settled the heavyfur around herself. She found a round hat in one deep pocket and gauntlets in another, beaver pelt, wonderfully warm and silky. She pulled them over her kidskin gloves, ignoring Kerrin who was muttering under his breath as he secured the food and grain on the horse's rump. She wouldn't go hungry, Velindre noted. In fact, she'd best discard what she could as soon as she was outside the city, lest the horse prove overburdened.

'You can't set off now. You'll be dead and froze by dawn.' Ametine's breath smoked in the lamplight and she was shivering in her indoor maid's livery. Now that the sun was down, the temperature was falling like a stone.

The bells of the city proclaimed the end of the day with ten brisk chimes as Velindre offered the silent horse-trader a double handful of white-gold crowns. 'That should pay for the horse. What's his name?'

'Oakey.' The horse-trader tipped his hat briefly to her and clicked his tongue to get the unwanted horse walking out of the stable yard. Oakey whickered briefly after his stable mate and Velindre soothed him with a pat beneath his mane before fishing in her purse again. 'Ametine, here's payment for your time and trouble. You can share it with your absent friend or not, as you see fit.'

She tossed a couple more Tormalin crowns to Kerrin, who looked up at her sullenly. 'I appreciate your offer of an escort and I'm sorry if you've made a fool of yourself telling your friends you're heading into the wilds on some adventure.' It was too dark to see if the boy was blushing but his ducked head suggested to Velindre that she'd guessed right. 'Believe me, boy, you don't want to go where I'm heading,' she said sternly. 'And any mage worth the name doesn't need an escort, whatever the weather, so don't think of following me in some misguided hope of riding to my rescue in case of marauding trappers.

I shall see any such trouble long before it finds me. I'll also see you if you're fool enough to try coming after me, and I will be seriously displeased.'

Satisfied to see apprehension replace the mulishness in Kerrin's face, she carefully gathered up her reins in her double-gloved hands and drew the horse's head around towards the open archway. The inn's ostlers watched her ride out, shaking their heads in bafflement. Several turned questioning faces to Ametine but she had already disappeared inside the warm inn.

Out on the road, Velindre turned the horse's head up the hill. 'Come on, Oakey.' The reluctant animal was evidently none too pleased to be heading away from a companionable stable yard with a bitterly cold night coming rapidly on. She used her heels to convince him otherwise, urging him to his fastest walk, wary of the cobbles in sheltered corners already slick with frost. Best to be out of the city gates before dusk, when some watchman was bound to take it into his head to ask where she was going, laden for travel at such a time. Not that any watchman could stop her. All the same, any gate-ward mentioning such a meeting to some superior among the Guilds would increase the chances of her visit being reported back to curious ears in Hadrumal.

The inns of Inglis were doing a roaring trade satisfying fur trappers eager for light, warmth and companionship. Velindre soothed Oakey with a firm hand as a riot of song spilled out of one tavern door along with golden candlelight and a man who'd tripped over his own feet. A linkboy with his lantern swaying on a pole stared open-mouthed at her. Velindre ignored him, forcing her recalcitrant steed on..