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table。 Most ships rode at anchor； slowing the business of the thriving port city to a crawl。 The heavy storm had also nearly choked off the flow of new visitors； which was another reason for Charystra's unpleasantness。
Tonight the rain had stopped for the first time in several days。 Not long after Tiamak had crawled into his insufficient bed； the constant rattle on the roof had suddenly gone silent； a silence so deep it seemed almost like another noise。 Perhaps； he thought； it was this unaccustomed silence that made it so hard to sleep。
Shivering again； Tiamak tried to pull his blanket closer about him； but the old man beside him had caught up the whole tangle in a death…grip。 Despite his advanced age； the fool seemed to be a great deal stronger than Tiamak； who even before his unfortunate brush with the crocodile had never been robust； even by the standards of his small…boned people。 The Wrannaman ceased struggling for the covers； Ceallio gurgled and murmured in the throes of some dream of past happiness。 Tiamak frowned。 Why had he ever left his house in the banyan tree； in his beloved； familiar swamp？ It was not much； but it was his。 And unlike this drafty； damp boat…house； it had always been warm。 。 。 。
This was more than just night…cold； he realized suddenly； wracked by more shivers。 There was a chill in the air that pierced the chest like daggers。 He initiated another doomed struggle for blankets； then sat up again in despair。 Perhaps the door had been left open？
Giving vent to a full…throated groan of anguish； he crawled away from his bed； forcing himself to stand。 His leg throbbed and burned。 The tosspot healer had said that his poultices would take the pain away soon enough； but Tiamak had little faith in such an obvious drunkard； and so far his doubts had been borne out。 He limped slowly across the rough wood floor； doing his best to avoid the two upended boats that dominated the room。 He managed to stay near the wall and thus evade these large obstacles； but a hard stool leaped up before him and cruelly battered his good shin； so that for a moment Tiamak had to stop and bite his lip as he rubbed the leg； holding in a screech of pain and anger that he feared would have no ending。 Why had he and he alone been singled out for such ill treatment？
When he could walk once more； he continued with even more care； so that his journey to the door seemed to take hours。 When he reached it at last he discovered to his immense disappointment that the door was shut； there seemed little more he could do to prevent himself from spending a sleepless and freezing night。 As he thumped his hand against the frame m frustration； the door swung open to reveal the empty pier outside； a dim gray rectangle in the moonlight。 A blast of chill air rolled over him； but before he could grasp the elusive handle and pull the door closed again； something caught his eye。 Baffled； he took a couple of limping steps out through the doorway。 There was something odd about the fine mist that floated down through the moonlight。
A long moment passed before Tiamak realized that it was not rain that dotted his outstretched palm； but rather tiny flakes of white。 He had never seen this thing before…no Wrannaman ever had…but he was unusually well…read； and had also heard it described many times in his student days。 It took only a moment for him to understand the significance of the downy flakes and the vapor that rose from his own lips to drift and dissipate on the night air。
Snow was falling on Kwanitupul； m the heart of summer。
Miriamele lay in her bed in darkness and wept until she was too tired to weep any longer。 As Eadne Cloud rocked at anchor in Vinitta's harbor； she felt loneliness pressing down on her like a great weight。
It was not so much Cadrach's betrayal despite her moments of weakness toward him； the monk had shown his true colors long ago。 It was rather that he was her last link with her true self； with her past life。 As if an anchor…rope had been cut； she felt herself suddenly adrift in a sea of strangers。
Cadrach's desertion had not been a plete surprise。 So little good feeling remained between the two of them that it seemed only circumstance had kept him from deserting her earlier。 She looked back on the cool deliberateness he had shown in selecting his traveling cloak before they left the boat and saw that he had clearly anticipated this escape； at least from the moment they had been summoned down to Vinitta。 In a way； he had tried to warn her； hadn't he？ On the deck he had asked her to listen； saying 〃this last time。〃
The monk's betrayal was unsurprising； but the pain was no less heavy for that。 A long…anticipated blow had fallen at last。
Desertion and indifference。 That seemed to be the thread that ran through her life。 Her mother had died； her father had changed into something cold and uncanny； her uncle Josua had only wished her out of his way…he would deny it； no doubt； but it had been plain m his every word and expression。 For a while she had thought Dinivan and his master the lector could shelter her； but they had died and left her friendless。 Although she knew it was not even remotely their fault； she still could not forgive。
No one would help her The kinder ones； like Simon and the troll or dear old Duke Isgrimnur； were absent or powerless。 Now Cadrach； too； had left her。
There must be something inside of her that pushed others away； Miriamele brooded…some stain like the dark discoloration m the white stone canals of Meremund； hidden until the tide went out。 Or maybe it was not in her at all； but in the souls of those around her； those who could not stay rooted to obligation； who could not remember their duty to a young woman。
And what ofAspitis； the golden earl？ She had little hope that he would prove more responsible than the others； but at least he cared for her。 At least he wanted her for something。
Perhaps when all was over； when her father had reshaped the world in whatever way pleased his corrupt fancy； she would be able to find a home somewhere。 She would be happy with a small house by the sea； would gladly shed her unwanted royalty like an old snakeskin。 But until then； what should she do？
Miriamele rolled over and pushed her face into the rough blanket； feeling the bed and the entire ship moving in the sea's gentle but insistent grip。 It was all too much； too many thoughts； too many questions。 She felt quite strengthless。 She wanted only to be held； to be protected； to let time slip away until she could wake into a better world。
She cried quietly； fretfully； anchorless on the edge of sleep。
The afternoon slipped past。 Miriamele lay in the darkness of her cabin； wandering in and out of dreams。
Somewhere above； the lookout cried sunset； no other sound intruded but the lap of waves and the muffled cry of sea birds。 The ship was all but deserted； the sailing men ashore in Vinitta。
Miriamele was not surprised when the cabin door quietly opened at last and a weight pressed down on the bed beside her。 Aspitis' finger traced her features。 Miriamele turned away； wishing she could pull the shadows over her like a blanket； w