Consorts of Heaven by Jaine Fenn Page B

passed the slight dip in the side of the valley that marked the narrow trail to Penfrid. She had walked that path just last year, when it was Penfrid’s turn to host the star-season celebrations.
    This must have been the signal to stop for lunch as the sled-men stumbled to a halt. One of the dog-handlers gave a series of short whistles and the dogs wheeled round to the front of the herd. The cattle stalled, milled back on themselves and put their heads down to start foraging for grass.
    Damaru showed no sign of stopping. Kerin shucked her pack and sprinted after him, calling his name. She suspected he saw only the pattern of the Skymothers’ Creation laid out and expanded before him. When she waved a water-skin under his nose he stopped to drink, then sat down on a hummock. She looked back to see Sais talking to Huw. As she watched, both men laughed.
    Huw had returned to the sled, leaving food enough for the three of them, by the time she persuaded Damaru to come back with her.
    ‘Did he introduce himself?’ asked Kerin.
    ‘Huw? Yes. He’s - He was Neithion’s friend, wasn’t he?’
    ‘Aye. They were born but weeks apart, and had similar temperaments. ’ Like Neithion, Huw was one of the few men in Dangwern who did not hold the past against her. ‘What were you laughing about?’ she added.
    ‘He said that calling myself Sais proved I’d lost my memory. I said I know it’s an odd name, so perhaps if people call me it enough I’ll be encouraged to remember my real one.’
    Kerin smiled at that.
    They started off again, passing the path to Carregogh, even steeper and narrower than the one to Penfrid. This was as far as Kerin had ever been from Dangwern. Every step now took her further into the unknown.

CHAPTER NINE
    By the first evening Sais was already looking back fondly on the tedium and foetid darkness of Kerin’s hut. If one day on the road left him this exhausted and footsore then it seemed highly unlikely he had walked to Dangwern, though he couldn’t imagine how else he’d arrived. At least his presumed status as a noble meant that the villagers didn’t expect him to take a turn carrying the sled.
    It would take them a little over two weeks to reach Piper’s Steps, where they would meet up with drovers from the other mountain villages; then they had another five weeks’ travelling to reach the market in the lowlands. Seven weeks of hard walking: Sais knew he’d never survive.
    Finally the sun sank below the mountains and the cry to halt went up.
    Once again, Damaru didn’t stop. Kerin ran after him. He ignored her calls and when she tried to touch him, he shook her off. She tripped and fell. Despite his exhaustion, Sais hurried over to help. Kerin was already on her feet by the time he reached her, and they set off after Damaru together. Sais hoped they wouldn’t have to physically carry the boy back to the camp - he’d never manage it.
    ‘Damaru!’ said Kerin, when they caught up with him. ‘Please, you have to stop and rest for the night. Time to sleep, Damaru.’
    He shook his head fiercely. ‘No . . . wrong wrong wrong . This is not where I sleep.’
    ‘That is right. But you cannot just keep walking, Damaru. You must rest.’
    He paused long enough to look at her, then shook his head. ‘Wrong,’ he said emphatically. ‘Your pattern is home . Not here . Here I am. Just me.’
    ‘Damaru, I know this is strange, but—’
    ‘Not strange. Wrong . You are wrong. Maman is hut is food is . . . not here.’
    On impulse, Sais stepped forward. ‘How about me?’ he said. ‘What am I?’
    Damaru stopped, looking confused. ‘Different pattern,’ he muttered.
    ‘That’s right!’ said Sais, hoping he’d understood - as far as anyone could - what was going on in the boy’s head. ‘I was outside the pattern, then I—I came in. And now - now your Maman, Kerin, has come out of the pattern she was in. Into your world. I’m here, she’s here, you’re here. Together, outside the hut and