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“I thank you for your concern, Es, truly. But we should agree that you do not have the slightest inkling of how many men I may or may not fell. I’ve grown familiar enough with the ways to use an ax. For example–” Dawsyn comes closer. “This place here,” she touches a place below his ear, “is where the blade heel enters when I want to separate one’s spine from their mind. Imagine a simple girl of the Ledge, knowing such things. She could only know it if she had seen it – first-hand, I believe they say. She knows it only because it has proven effective a dozen times.”

She steps away again, turning to where the ax is fixed in place, meaning to retrieve it.

“Dawsyn, darling, I do not mean to underestimate you,” Esra says softly. “I only mean that you should leave prepared.”

“I am as prepared as I will ever be,” she answers, wrenching the blade from the wood.

“But what you are trying to accomplish cannot be done alone!” There is a tremor in his voice, but he seems determined to say what he must. “You must know how likely it is that you will die? If not on the slopes or in Glacia, then on the Ledge when the blood runs bad. I may not know what you have planned, but I suspect you’ll place yourself in the middle.”

He slumps slightly, as though he himself feels the weight of Dawsyn’s burden. For all his bluster, Dawsyn can see that beneath it, he truly worries. “You’ve suffered enough,” he says quietly.

He is right. She has been starved and beaten and left alone, hauled over the Chasm and chased down the slopes. She has endured worse than few could withstand over a lifetime.

“You could find yourself some peace now, Dawsyn,” he pleads, eyes beseeching her. “This quest needn’t be yours.”

Dawsyn sighs. She places a hand up on Esra’s cheek, wiping away the evidence of his good nature. “I don’t think people like me get to find peace, Es,” she says. “Though if anyone in this world deserves such a thing, I think it might be you.”

He nods, having said all he can, knowing it would do nothing to stay her course. He sniffs and covers her hand with his own. His eyes, warm and familiar, become fervent. “Then, be sure to cut out the spines of those who dare to think you simple.”

Dawsyn grimaces down at the strange ax in her hand, etched in Terrsaw markings, knowing she will have very little choice in the matter.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Baltisse awaits her in front of the inn, donned in fur and boots.

Dawsyn is dressed similarly, having done away with Baltisse’s robes in favour of borrowed trousers from Esra’s stash. The man in the dress had wrinkled his nose as she pulled them on. “They do nothing for you, my darling.”

Dawsyn had simply smiled.

Salem rummages within a large sack at Baltisse’s feet.

“I knew yeh bloody sneaked some, yeh thievin’ old wart! What fuckin’ use do yeh have fer wine? Yeh hikin’ up a fuckin’ mountain, woman!”

Baltisse regards Salem’s stooped form a moment, her brow furrowed. Then, her hand quickly rises and Salem is suddenly thrown onto his backside, the thud reverberating beneath Dawsyn’s feet.

“Ow!Baltisse, yeh insufferable–”

“Leave the wine where it is, Salem,” she says, sounding bored. “And we won’t be hiking up the slopes, will we, Dawsyn?”

A shiver climbs Dawsyn’s spine.

“No?” Esra asks. “Got a dragon stuffed in your skirts somewhere, Baltisse?” He turns to give Dawsyn a conspiratorial look. “I always sensed an inordinate amount of heat coming from her under carriage whenever I walked–”

But like Salem, Esra does not get to finish the sentence before he ends up flat on his back, groaning soundly. “Argh, not my arseagain! It has known enough suffering!”

Dawsyn sighs and steps over him. “When will the day come that you men learn to say less?”

“Oh, I hope it never comes,” Baltisse replies, smoothing down her fur sleeves. “What a bore.”

Dawsyn reaches Baltisse and takes the supplies over her shoulder. She grins as Esra and Salem come to stand.

“So long, then, yeh pair o’ witches,” Salem barks, already limping back to the inn.

“Thank you,” Dawsyn says to his back, and smiles when he waves a hand over his head in reply. Dawsyn winks a goodbye at Esra.

Baltisse takes Dawsyn’s forearm in her long fingers. “Deep breath, sweet. We will both need it.”

Before they fold, Dawsyn has enough time to see Salem turn and give the women one fleeting look of fear. She sees Esra’s face quietly darken, both stricken behind the façade of their banter.