Shadow Magic by Patricia C. Wrede

of the reason why. They drifted away from the other peoples of Alkyra during the ages of prosperity, and all contact with them was lost when the last of Kire’s line died in the fall of Eirith. But they are a proud people, and perhaps they prefer it that way.”
    Alethia nodded absently. “Are we near the river?” she asked abruptly.
    “No,” Tamsin replied, puzzled. “We are half a day’s ride north of it, perhaps more. Why?”
    “I have never seen mist linger so late in the day, except near water,” Alethia said. She pointed at a dense gray fog which was coiling about Starbrow’s hooves.
    Tamsin sucked in his breath. “I fear this is no natural mist, but perhaps we can yet escape it. Come Starbrow! Show your paces!”
    The great chestnut leapt forward, but his burst of speed was brief. In a short time the fog had risen up around the travelers, and they were forced to slow to a crawl to avoid running into trees. Alethia could barely make out Starbrow’s ears, so dense was the mist. It was quiet, too; a dead quiet, the quiet of snow falling straight down and muffling the noise of the world, but not so friendly. The birds and smaller animals of the forest no longer sang and rustled the leaves as the travelers passed.
    Alethia felt detached. The world receded, melting into the shifting gray clouds around her, muffled in a great gray blanket. She felt herself falling, but even that was far away, outside of the place where she herself was. Then, small and clear, like a picture at the bottom of a deep glass, she saw the Lithmern leader, bending in concentration over a strange symbol wrought in iron, and murmuring unfamiliar words under his breath.
    Just for an instant the sight held; then she recoiled and the vision passed. As it faded, she brushed the edge of something dark and greedy, and knew that it sought her. She started in fright, and the physical movement brought her back to herself. Alethia drew a deep breath, shuddered, and opened her eyes to see Tamsin’s concerned face bending over her.
    “Here, drink,” he said, holding the water bottle out to her. Gratefully she accepted. After a few swallows, she felt more like herself. Tamsin watched her carefully as she drank, and reached for the bottle as soon as she finished. The gray fog was as thick as ever; Tamsin had wound Starbrow’s rein about his arm to avoid losing the animal. Alethia looked at him inquiringly.
    “You slipped off of Starbrow so quietly I almost lost you, and I could not wake you,” the minstrel said, answering her unspoken question. “What happened?”
    “I am not sure,” Alethia replied. “Everything was so far away and quiet. Then I saw that Lithmern with the shadow-face, and something was looking for me…” Her voice trailed off, and she shivered. “I do not understand at all,” she said in a strained voice.
    Tamsin was watching her with wonder. “Lady of Brenn, I do not know what else you are, but that you are more than you seem I am sure. I think I begin to see why these Lithmern are so anxious to capture you,” he said. “We had better continue, and quickly.” He helped Alethia rise and once more assisted her in mounting.
    As Tamsin swung onto the horse behind her, Alethia said, “You seem remarkably unshaken by these strange happenings.”
    “Magic and music are brother and sister,” he replied as Starbrow picked his way through the fog. “The bard’s craft has always been half magic; in times past minstrels and magicians were often one and the same. Perhaps it is because we must sing so frequently of the old days and the magic of them that we do not fear strangeness as do other men.”
    Alethia started to reply, then stopped abruptly as the dense fog suddenly dissolved. Starbrow stopped and tossed his head. Tamsin cursed under his breath. They stood at the center of a circle of grinning Lithmern with drawn swords. Facing them, his whole bearing one of triumph, stood the cloaked leader. “Ah, two fish instead of