Cold Magic (Spiritwalker #1)

“Have some more soup,” said Chartji, ladling out of the tureen in the most casual way imaginable, very neat-handed despite her claws, “because this will take a while.”

“Did I get off track?” asked Godwik, crest rising as his feathers flared.

“Just a bit, Uncle,” said Brennan with a grin that made you want to trust him.

“An expedition to measure the extent of the ice would be most valuable,” said Kehinde. “If we could confirm that the ice shelf runs unbroken across the pole and could survey the southern face of the ice on the northern continents, we could calculate the surface extent of the ice. By comparing that to such evidence as is available from ancient records, we might thereby speculate whether the ice face is stable or if it is shrinking or growing and by how much.”

“A venture is being assembled now, on the shores of Lake Long-Water, by a corporation of clutches,” said Godwik, and although it was hard to read emotion in his somewhat monotone and slightly slurry voice, there came about him a change, for I was pretty sure the addled tale-teller concealed a wickedly sharp mind beneath the prattle.

Kehinde leaned forward eagerly. “You trolls may have better luck, then. The lords and princes of Europa have no interest in such an expedition, not since Camjiata’s defeat. They do nothing but wrestle for precedence, useless parasites as they are. And, of course, the mage Houses continually place obstacles in the path of scholars. They sue our associations and academies to rob us of funding, and pressure their assemblies and local courts to agree to laws forbidding importation or manufacture of such new apparatuses as would make such ventures feasible. I’m so thrilled we’ll be able to see an airship in Adurnam. There’s a ship that can cross the ice!”

Heat flushed my face. I worked on at the soup, pretending more interest in my supper than in the conversation, and the soup was indeed very good, flavored with leeks, parsnips, salt, and a smattering of precious pepper.

“No one can cross the ice,” said Brennan with a brooding look. “My grandfather was slaughtered by the Wild Hunt. He had been hired to assist a group of scholars attempting a reconnaissance of the Hibernian Ice Sheet in the northwest.”

“The Hibernian Ice Expedition was set upon by dire wolves,” said Kehinde. “So say the accounts of the men who found the remains of the expeditioners.”

“In the village I come from, north of Ebora, where on clear winter days we can see the face of the ice, we know better.”

Kehinde was shaking her head. “That there are forces in the world we do not understand is evident to all, but that does not mean that with proper investigation and measurement it cannot be explained by rational means.”

“The Hassi Barahals are known as a family who collects information,” said Chartji to me. “What have they to say about all this?”

“It’s true my father traveled as part of the family business and recorded both his observations and accounts told to him by the people he met,” I said, eager to move the subject away from airships. “For instance, many villages, especially in the north, tell tales of the Wild Hunt. Sometimes the Hunt is merely the agent of natural death, marking the souls of those who will die in the coming year. But other tales say that the Wild Hunt hunts down and kills or carries off people who have drawn the notice or the anger of the day court and the night court, which are the unseen courts said to rule in the spirit world.”

“Their power is so vast it lies invisible to us,” said Brennan. He wore on his left hand a massive and rather ugly bronze ring, which he touched now as if it were an amulet to protect him against the gaze of the unseen courts.

Kehinde crossed her arms, giving him a skeptical look. “What is invisible to us is nothing more than that which we do not comprehend. The tides and threads of magic that can be harnessed and manipulated by mages and bards and others like them do not thereby prove the existence of ‘courts,’ which no human or troll has ever laid eyes on.”

“What of eru?” I said cautiously. “In tales, they’re often called the servants of the courts. Although it’s usually said they appear as human to our eyes.”

Godwik gave me a sudden, knowing look, although how I could read such emotion on his snout of a face I was not sure. Then he winked at me, as if we shared a joke.

“Rats and trolls love to tell stories about rats and trolls,” said Chartji, “and tend to see rats and trolls wherever they can. Meanwhile there are dragons in the mountains of Cathay and along the rim of the Pacific Ocean. In the Levant, goblins drowse under the rule of the Turanians. When the salt sickness was unleashed from the deeps of the salt mines of the Saharan Desert, a plague of ghouls overran western Africa.”