“The wall can beclimbed?” Angeliqueyelped.
“Of course it can,” Neely snorted. “The trick is not gettingshotby a crossbow on your way over. But it’s time for us to cast off. Good luck!” Neely started pulling on various ropes, hoisting the sail and changing the angle of it as Farriage finished bailing out theboat.
“Good luck, Enchantress!” the younger smugglercalled.
Angelique grunted in the back of her throat and went back toswimming.
The ocean’s icy temperature made it a little hard to breathe, and her fingers and toes were starting totingle.
Waves still rocked the ocean, occasionally making Angelique bob higher or pushing her closer towardshore.
Her breath came harder and harder, and Angelique almost cried with relief when her feet scraped the sandy oceanfloor.
Soon, she was able to trudge rather than swim. She carefully picked her way around the enormous black rocks that cluttered the shore, making it more of an exercise ofclimbing.
A foaming wave only knocked her into a rock once, but she jarred nearly every bone of her body in the process and scraped her palm. A few moments later, Angelique was able to climb onto the rocky shore, hoisting herself out of the ocean’s cruelreach.
Her lungs ached as though they might burst, and when she licked her lips, the taste of sea salt stung her tongue. She grimaced but focused on yanking her belt pouch open with stiff, half-numbed fingers. She had to pour the contents of the pouch onto her hand—her fingers were too numb to make out any of the items by touchalone.
After pawing through the contents, she scooped up a ruby and whispered through chattering lips. “Heat.”
Warmth flooded her, and the ruby depths of the gem glowed as the spell activated and wrapped around her, drying her clothes and hair, and restoring feeling to herextremities.
Angelique sighed in relief and dumped the gem and other charms back into the pouch, then secured it to herbelt.
She had taken Neely’s advice into consideration and—rather than casting spells herself—she had chosen to bring a number of charms she either already had on hand (gifts from Stil over the years that she kept in her saddlebag) or purchased during the wait for thevoyage.
She paused, then, on an impulse, yanked the other pouch open, her fingers brushing her othercharms.
The most important one was a rough, wooden carving of a heart, which carried a tracking spell. She had made the spell herself, but commissioned a craftmage to transfer the magic to the woodenheart.
The carving made her tuck her chin and twist her lips into a frown. She would have preferredanyothershape besides a heart, but it was the only piece the craftmage had on-hand that was strong enough to contain the trackingspell.
Assured the charm was still there, Angelique pulled the pouch strings tight—closing it. Next, she took inventory of her clothes, slipping on her boots after confirming the heat charm had dried them, and tugging her fur veststraight.
Her hair was the last to be fixed. She pulled it out of the ruined braid she had put it in for the voyage and let it drape around hershoulders.
She tugged on one of her locks and studied the brunette shade, almost unpleasantly surprised by how dark her natural hair color was. (She hadn’t let it shine through very often, and sheneverrevealed her naturally silver eyes if she could help it. But she couldn’t risk keeping the illusion spell going if even half of Neely’s suspicions weretrue.)
She longed to use the tracking spell already, but she’d rather get farther inland to give the spell a better starting point, and she didn’t dare loosen it until she had a better grasp on Zancara’s state—both magically and governmentallyspeaking.
She shoved some of her hair back with a warm, blue-colored headband Gemma had made for Angelique before they parted ways, brushed her clothes off one last time, then started the hike up the rocky hill—which wasn’t quite steep enough to be called acliff.
Unlike Verglas, Zancara wasn’t covered in snow—though the temperatures were still plenty cold, and the wind was almost violent in its strength. But the exertion of the climb kept Angelique reasonably warm, so when she finally scrambled off the rocky crest, her nose was red with the cold, but she wasn’tshivering.
She crossed a rolling plain—which was an unappealing shade of brown as the grass had already died. The plains butted into a small forest of beech trees and silver pines, and it was there that Angelique heard the first sounds ofhumanity.
Cautiously, she tip-toed through the forest, pausing when the trees opened up enough to give Angelique a view of the village Neely haddescribed.
Thankfully, it seemed the years of isolation hadn’t hurt the village. Instead, it had expanded and resembled a rather good-sizedcity.
The village—or city?—rested on the slope of a rather lopsided hill, which looked as if a giant had chopped it at the crest and stomped the other half, making the stomped half more of a sheer drop than a truehillside.
The entire city was built at an angle on the slope, but it practically glittered among the trees that ringed the hill because the majority of the buildings were constructed with plaster and painted a blinding whitecolor.
The larger buildings were all built out of stone bricks, and they loomed above the cheerful white village homes andshops.
Even from this distance, Angelique heard the faint clang of bells and the happy chatter ofpeople.
