Longwick distributed metal-shod walking staves to all of us, an item I would never have thought of packing. But it soon became apparent that Peottre was the real source of this equipment when Chade summoned all of us to listen to him before we left the beach.
Both he and the Narcheska were as heavily burdened as any among us. She waited alongside three sleds, also provided by Blackwater, which were already loaded with much of our supplies. Her long outer coat was all of snowy white fox. She wore a bright little cap, woven of many colors, and her glory of black hair was tucked completely out of sight under it. Her loose boots were soled with scraped walrus hide and the tops were of deerskin with the hair left on. Leather bindings laced them around her legs to the knee. But for the solemn look on her face, she looked as if she had been prepared as a snow bride. Peottre was bulky as he lumbered beside her in black wolf and bearskin trousers. More than any Witted one I had ever known, he looked like a shape-changer out of a beast-tale. His many layers of clothing had enlarged him to an almost laughable size. Yet all were solemn as he spoke to us, anxious to catch every word.
“I know where the dragon sleeps,” he said. “I have been there twice before. Yet, even so, it will be difficult for me to lead you there. On a glacier, knowing where something is does not mean I know the way to it. Glaciers are not like stone and earth, which remain the same year after year, and the glacier we shall cross here is among the most restless in the world. Glaciers sleep and they walk, they groan to wakefulness, cracking wide their yawns. And then they sleep, and the blowing snow bridges over the gaping crevasses, hiding their danger from all but the most wary walker.
“To fall into one is little different from being swallowed by a snow demon. Down you will go into darkness, and that is an end of you. We will mourn you, but we will go on.”
His eyes passed slowly over all of us as he said this, and I was not the only man who suppressed a shiver.
“Follow me,” Peottre went on. “Not just in where I go, but in my very tread. And even then, do not trust the ice beneath you. Once we venture out onto the glacier's face, probe every step you take. One man, two men, three men may pass safely right in front of you, and then the crust may betray you. Probe ahead with your staff, before every step you take. You will grow weary of doing this. But stop doing it only if you have also grown weary of your life.” Again, his measuring glance passed over all of us. Again he nodded. Then he said, “Follow me.”
And with no more ado, he turned and led us up the beach. The Narcheska fell in right behind him. Behind her went the Prince and then Chade. Lord Golden claimed the next spot and no one challenged him for it. Then went the Wit coterie, entrusted with one sled, and the Hetgurd witnesses, and finally Longwick and Hest pulling the second sled, and Deft and Riddle pulling the third. I came second to last, with Thick stumping stolidly along behind me. I had shifted part of his pack's load to mine, but left him enough of a burden not to hurt his pride. I soon regretted it, and vowed that on the morrow he would walk unencumbered. Even in the best of times, his stubby legs and wide girth would have made this trek difficult for him. Burdened with both a pack and a nagging cough, he simply could not keep the pace Peottre set. By the time we reached the lip of the glacier, there was a gap between the main party and the two of us. The diligent probing of each step began, and I thought that would slow them enough that we would catch up. I had not taken into account that Thick had taken Peottre's warnings deeply to heart. He prodded the ice before him at every step as if he were spearing fish. He was soon panting with the effort, but my offers to probe for both of us were stoutly refused.
“I don't want to be swallowed by an ice demon,” he told me sulkily.
Can you see our path? Dutiful Skilled back to me.
Very clearly. Don't be concerned for us. If we need you to wait for us, I'll let you know. At least all the probing Thick is doing is keeping him warm.
Too warm. Too much work! Thick complained.
“Just tap with the stave. You don't have to stab the ground.”
“Yes I do,” Thick refuted my words. I decided that words were futile and let him do as he wished, though it taxed my patience to dawdle along in front of him at a pace he could match. It bored me, and gave me far too much time to ponder our situation. I did not like how events were unfolding, and yet I could not say precisely what bothered me. Perhaps it was as Thick had said: bad things had happened in this place, and it felt as if they were happening now.
The wind was a constant, but the skies were clear and blue. At intervals, I saw old rods poking out of the snow, some tied with scraps of bright fabric. I judged that they marked the path that Peottre followed. He often paused to straighten one, or to attach a fresh ribbon-banner. Even so, the advance party went more swiftly than Thick and I did. I watched them draw away from us and grow smaller until they had dwindled to little puppets doing an odd poking dance in a line as they ventured across the ice field. Our shadows slowly became longer and thinner, pale blue on the crystallized ice and snow. The surface we walked across did not seem like either true ice or true snow to me. There was a thin layer of real snow, but beneath that were compacted darning needles of ice and we walked upon their tips.