She puzzled over the unexpected turn of events. Why would the prince-warden come now? The catastrophic avalanche had occurred almost two years ago, after a series of unusually bad storms. Torrential rains had destabilized the steep slopes along the outer rim-land of the long canyon known as Grinder’s Cut. Debris had buried most of Olludia Halt, including the village’s Heart Temple where Aoving had happened to have been midwifing a woman in labor. A few survivors had been dug out of the rubble, but yet another storm followed hard upon the previous one and brought additional rocks crashing down.

The terrible event had blocked the road in an area called Five Bridges, for the five impressively engineered bridges that made the crossing possible. No local detour was available because of the depth and rugged nature of the canyon and a low-lying stream of Pall that had long ago settled onto the canyon floor, running parallel to the Winding Thread River. The avalanche had brought to a stop the long-distance traffic that ran through Orledder Intendancy, across Grinder’s Cut, and on to the Vigil tower planted on the southern shore of Flat Pall. The blocked road was a significant inconvenience for the imperial administration and especially for merchants, since the road across Flat Pall was the most direct connection between the heartland and Woodfall Province with its resources of tin, hops, furs, hallow-wood groves, and a unique pottery tradition prized throughout the empire for a glossy green glaze. While it was true that two other imperial roads ran from the heartland into the western provinces, only one of those swung north with a spur that went all the way into the western region of Woodfall Province. To travel via the western route took months.

Elen rubbed her arm, caught herself doing it, and picked up her pace, newly anxious. She oughtn’t to have let Kem go on alone, not with such doings in town and a caravan incoming as well.

Riders on elks …

No, it couldn’t be, not after all this time. Lord Duenn couldn’t have found them.

How she and Aoving had cherished their years of freedom in Orledder Halt! Aoving had found a measure of peace she’d never before known and had become a respected midwife. Elen had taken on the duties of a deputy courier as well as the sturdy cottage, and the rations of grain and oil, that went with it. Even so, after Aoving’s death she might have moved on, just to be safe, but she hadn’t because of Kem. Orledder was the only home her nephew remembered. He was at peace here, where people knew and liked and accepted him. She could not take that away from him.

Yet how safe could anyone really be in this Pall-ridden world?