Chapter 31

  The dreams of Ma’Turin had multiplied of late. His nightmares became beasts in the depths, and the Sisterhood of Ys had been more occupied than usual with destroying them. And when they slept, they found their own dreams swept away like jellyfish on an ocean current, borne to places abstract and mysterious by the immeasurably greater dreams of the great turtle. And they readied the bells, each one polished to a mirror shine, for the time was nigh.

  But all was not well. Frostfound had come to the Chelonate Sea, drifting in on its own mysterious impulse, perhaps drawn by the curious gravity of the King’s Comet. And even the Speaker did not know how Ys was to rise to the surface through a hundred feet of ice.

  Rosma stood on the ice, scouting the area with several of her sisters. She had positioned herself atop a jagged outcropping that rose like a knife from the crush and clutter of the jagged floes.

  White, blue, silver, black. These were the colors, for the night was lit by the retreating tail of Solesta. It shone like a blue moon pulled into a hazy streak. The rings of Infernus made a shining arc across a black star-flecked sky. Auroras played at the horizons, their colors invasive in a cold monochrome world of ice and stars.

  The ice was deadly and loud. It shifted; it groaned and creaked; it made eerie squeals in the distance. Sharp, uneven, it rose into ridges and split into sheer chasms. One sister had already been lost, trapped and crushed by the unpredictable movements of the floes.

  The ice was unnatural, and its source loomed against a horizon that had never been anything but flat. Frostfound basked in the light of the comet, its ramparts and balconies made into ghostly spirals that shimmered in the distant darkness. No auroral sweeps came near to that place, and the Speaker had likewise forbidden the sisters to approach. Rosma had objected. If Frostfound could be destroyed, or made to depart…

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  “There is nothing here,” said Lauris as she climbed up to Rosma’s position. “Nothing but ice.”

  Rosma nodded. No monsters in the ice. No wildlife at all, from what they could tell. “Then let us…” She stopped. For a moment, she did not understand what was happening to her. She doubled over, her muscles contorting. The pain struck a moment later. Rosma collapsed onto the ice. Only the presence of Lauris prevented her from falling down to the craggy frost below.

  Rosma could not tell how long it lasted. It might have been several minutes or only a second. Eventually she could breathe again, could move again. She rose stiffly with the aid of Lauris, every muscle weak and sore.

  Lauris followed but did not speak as Rosma descended to retrieve her spear. She didn’t have to say anything. No one did. They all knew Rosma was dying. It didn’t matter; it didn’t make her special. They would all be dead soon. The end of the world was nearly upon them. They were its very harbingers, the bell-ringers of Ys.

  Rosma’s comm band vibrated as she retrieved her spear from where it had stuck in a cleft in the ice. It was the Speaker. A short message, but one that sent a thrill through her:

  “Thou art granted permission to investigate Frostfound. I expect hourly reports as well as caution on thy part. Thou art granted this duty only due to thy condition. Thou shalt return to Ys in time to ring the bells, as is thy duty. Thou wilt therefore be gone two days at the utmost.”

  Wordlessly, for Rosma did not trust herself to speak so soon after an episode of the pain, she showed the message to Lauris. Lauris nodded, and without further ado Rosma turned toward Frostfound.