Free Faces of Deception by Troy Denning Page A

plateau of snowy hummocks and leafy green willow bushes. In the untold distance beyond stood a remote wall of ice-draped mountains, as jagged as ore’s teeth and so high they were scratching tiny furrows of white cloud into the belly of the passing sky.
    “The Spine of the World Dragon,” Rishi announced, pointing at the peaks. “The valleys on your map lie there.”
    Without any trees or animals for scale, Atreus could not quite comprehend the magnitude of the mountains. To him the range looked like the brink of the world, a sheer barrier of ice-coated spires as high as it was impassable.
    “Men can live there?” asked Yago, incredulous.
    “If it is the wish of the mountain gods,” said Bharat. He was facing the peaks, though his sightless eyes were fixed on the sky above. “But more often, it is their wish that men die there.”
    “And how could a cowardly rug seller who has never ventured beyond the safety of the roads know such a thing?” demanded Rishi. He glanced over his shoulder at Atreus. “Pay Bharat no mind. It is said the Mar were born there, and of course that is where we shall find Langdarma … if we are strong enough.”
    For the first time Atreus wondered if he was strong enough. On his map, the peaks were little more than circles of fanning lines, with the names of the valleys written along serpentine spaces below. There was nothing to suggest the staggering height of the mountains or the sheer rugged-ness of their ice-caked flanks. That a paradise could be hidden in such a place seemed impossible, and yet the sight made Atreus believe in Langdarma all the more strongly. Sune taught that beauty had to be guarded, and he could think of no better protection than those mountains.
    “Perhaps the good sir and his servant would hide now?” asked Rishi. “Several roads pass along here, and we are certain to meet many foolish Mar who would be most alarmed to see Ysdar’s devil riding in a yak wagon.”
    Atreus and Yago ducked down between the carpet rolls, half-covering themselves beneath the cotton tarp Bharat used as a dust shroud. Rishi slapped the reins, urging the yaks forward onto the precarious canyon trail. The listing track turned out to be more heavily traveled than any of the roads they had been on so far. Several times an hour, Atreus and Yago had to pull the dust shroud over their heads as Rishi eased to the side of the road to let pass another wagon or a caravan of yaks. Twice, after hearing of an approaching patrol, he and Yago hid in the rocks below the road bank.
    As it happened, both patrols were heading back to the comforts of Edenvale and paid little attention to Rishi or the wagon. The leaders paused only long enough to brag about how close they had come to catching Ysdar’s devil, assuring the two carpet sellers that they themselves had chased the fiend deep into the mountains and made the Yehimals once again safe for travel. Rishi and Bharat thanked them profusely for their efforts, and when a passing salt caravan mentioned yet a third company down in the willows, no one thought it necessary for Atreus and Yago to leave the cart. The two westerners simply remained in back, peering out between their guides, ready to pull the dust shroud over their heads at an instant’s notice.
    After a time they rounded a bend and felt cold vapor in the air. Perhaps a mile ahead the shoulder of the mountain curved away, exposing yet more of the snow-hummocked plateau and revealing the head of the canyon, where a lazy river came twining out of the willows to plunge into the gorge. The result was a beautiful horsetail waterfall, so long it turned to mist before reaching the rocks below.
    The road left the mountainside just past the waterfall, then began branching off through the willows. One of the less traveled offshoots turned toward the sky-scratching peaks Rishi had pointed out as their destination, crossing the river via a suspension bridge of woven vines and swaying planks. They were