Free Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3 by E. J. Godwin Page B

After a few minutes of anxious hauling they cleared the slide and headed toward the northern end of the gorge.
    They passed the timberline before noon, and by evening had ridden well out of the bitter winds of Crooked Pass. It was a relief to bivouac within the dense shelter of the woods, and to have a roaring fire and a hot meal. There were no tracks anywhere to be seen, Hodyn or otherwise, but Tenlar had already decided to approach Enilií with caution.
    ♦
    As the following day wore on Telai noticed a slow change to the forest, at once both familiar and unfamiliar; the trees stood farther apart, with their branches well-groomed and the snow-covered ground beneath clear of debris and undergrowth. The road widened, plowed and well-used. Soon the travelers emerged from the woods into a vast open area, acres upon acres of cherry orchards, and fields thick with brambles that in summer were laden with the famous raspberries of Enilií. But it was winter now, the air still and quiet with the approach of night.
    A host of white chimney plumes rose in the distance, lit by the city’s emerging lights. Where the road passed the southern border of Enilií stood the remnant of an ancient battlement, scarred by centuries of frost, with an open gate beneath. It looked odd all alone and surrounded by houses and fields, but long ago, during the threat of Hodyn invasion, it had formed the main gate of a towering wall around the city. Following the establishment of Ekendoré and Udan that threat had faded, and the walls became a needless burden, for winter storms piled huge drifts about them. So they were torn down, the gate left as a monument to the past, and folk trusted their safety to the vigilance of the Raéni.
    Now, as her sled halted at the last memory of Enilií’s stone defenses, Telai wondered if the people should have endured those troublesome drifts. An old, nearly toothless Raén emerged from a little door inside the arch, greeted them brusquely, and asked their names and purpose. In reply Tenlar drew out a crumpled letter from inside his coat. The old man scanned the letter with his watery eyes, then returned it with a stiff bow.
    “Pardon my not recognizing you on sight, my lord. And pardon my suspicion. There are rumors of Hodyn in the district of late. Though you’re obviously not one of them, Lord Kenda ordered that no unidentified stranger be allowed past the gate.”
    “No apology necessary,” Tenlar said. “I’m acquainted with the First Underseer: a wise man. Just be careful not to mention that letter or our arrival to anyone until we’ve had a chance to talk to him.”
    “Of course,” the old man said, beginning to shiver. After another bow he turned and shuffled to the door, which he creaked open and shut with as much eagerness as prudence allowed.
    Few folk were out on such a cold evening, and most inns closed with the first heavy snowfall. Yet one remained open, The Northern Mist, a large building shadowed by tall oaks next to the Underseer’s Hall. Once inside its thick double doors they stopped to wait in the lobby. It stood empty, and they threw their hoods back, basking in the pleasure of a heated room for the first time in many days.
    After a minute or so a middle-aged, heavy-set woman entered. She was dressed in a clean apron, and wore a smile of welcome, at least until she looked closely at Tenlar.
    “Hendra have mercy! I’ll send for the doctor.”
    Tenlar scowled. “I’m not at death’s door, good woman.”
    “Thank you,” Telai said to her, throwing a reproachful glance at Tenlar. “Our team outside needs attention as well.”
    “And Kenda should be notified of our arrival at once,” Tenlar added.
    “I’ll take care of it. This way,” she offered with a gesture, and they followed her down a narrow hallway to the left. They stood at two doors side by side. “I hope these are to your liking—” she began, then stopped. “I beg your pardon, are you two Joined?”
    Tenlar kept a