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only available mount was courting.
"Don't get me wrong, yer Grace," Eagledown said. "It's not that we don't appreciate the social call and
the goodies, but when are you going to finish doodling around and loose us from this ice-bear's lair?"
"Please finish your tidbit," Pegeen implored. He'd only eaten half of his apple, though Snowshadow had
daintily downed hers in one bite. "If the guards find anything they didn't bring you themselves, they'll
know someone's been visiting you."
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"Never fear, Lady," Eagledown lowered his head so that the jagged end of his horn's stump menaced the
heavy doorway set into the thick blue ice. "They don't come in here-they're afraid they'll get what they've
got coming to them if they do."
"Fine. Good. Keep them intimidated. With this beastly weather we've been having, you see, I'm only just
getting started on our map tonight."
"TONIGHT?" they both cried together. Snowshadow spoke in a tone just short of a despairing wail.
"But you said a week ago it would take you but two days to complete."
"I'm sorry. It really couldn't be helped. I can't work in the rain, in spite of my illuminating magic."
"What's the matter? Afraid to get your well-bred hide wet?" Eagledown asked.
"My well-bred hide dries. My inks do not. They run. While pen and ink wash is an excellent technique
for achieving some effects, it is of no great use in cartography."
"He didn't mean it, Princess," Snowshadow said. "Only- time draws short. I feel it."
Pegeen felt it too. She had spent nights pacing her chambers, looking out at the low, roiling sky through
sheets of driving rain and sleet, feeling useless as she listened to the drops pelt the castle walls. Everyone
had worn boots of fish-gut all week, for the floors were awash with cold water, which seeped in under
the doors. In spite of her heaviest shawl, Pegeen had felt the cold in her very marrow, as she wandered
the corridors, too restless to draw or write or even to read, and listened to Fearchar consulting with his
officers, making further plans for the ruin of King Roari's reign. The maze had been horribly slick this
evening, for the rain had continued until sunset, when the sky miraculously lifted revealing the stars and
moon. The unicorns stood in ankle-deep water that was rapidly crusting to ice, and their feed was
soaked. She was glad she had thought to bring them the apples, but sorry she was unable to bring better
tidings about the escape plans.
"Very well, then. I have seen for myself that you are still safe, so I shall proceed as planned. But I must
tell you, the map may take somewhat longer to do than I'd expected."
Both unicorns neighed with dismay.
"I simply can't see far enough to map the most distant reaches by night, and it's quite impossible to do it
during the day. Fearchar wants me to do maps for his battle campaigns, and calligraphy for the
proclamations he plans to issue once he has taken the throne. His suspicions will be less if I pretend to
cooperate enthusiastically. To finish mapping the maze, I shall have to crawl farther out on the wall each
night the weather is fine to draw more of the area-"
"Oh, Princess, do be careful. Don't risk your life!" Snowshadow said.
"My life won't be much longer than yours, I fear, if I cannot free you one way or the other. For on my
word as the daughter of Finbar the Fireproof, and the last Ashburn heir, I shall not allow Fearchar and
his lackeys to do you more harm than they have done already. But in the meantime, while you're waiting
for me?"
"Yes?"
"Keep kicking at that hole of yours, why don't you."
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When they reached the high, windswept plateaus where the snow and rain blew together in a continual
swirling dance, Sir Cyril thought they must surely leave the gypsy wagons behind, or mire them in the
man-high drifts. So he was surprised to see the women bend over the wheels of their wagons, three and
four ladies to the wheel, and deftly remove them.
"My word, sir, whatever are your ladies doing?" he asked the man Davey, who lounged against one of
the wagons waiting for the women's ministrations. The man had buttoned his shirt all the way to his chin
for a change, covering his jewels, and wore a silken muffler around his neck, under a fleece-lined
sheepskin coat covered with beautiful embroideries. He seemed to view the wretched weather as a fine
excuse to display this new sartorial splendor, but of no particular interest otherwise. "Look around,
King's man," he instructed Sir Cyril, flinging his fleece-mittened hands far out to the sides in an expansive
gesture. "What you see ahead?"
"Snow? Or besides the snow?" Sir Cyril asked.
"Snow. That's right. Say, you pretty smart, King's man. Not like some of them, too stupid to let my wife
read their hands. It's snow all around us. You know what happens to wagon wheels in snow?"
"They founder. I naturally assumed we would abandon the wagons."
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