THEY REACHED FOREVERFROZE at mid-afternoon. Martine had never been there, not in all her wanderings, and she stared as openly as Zel.
The town was sheltered by a ridge of light gray rock to the north which ran down to the sea, forming one headland of the huge harbor. The other was a flat tongue of land to the south, which curved like a fishhook. The long, long wharves for which Foreverfroze was famous ran out into the curve of the fishhook but were still in the lee of the ridge. The town looked exposed, compared to the high-cliffed ports of Turvite and Mitchen, but it offered the best harborage available in the north, and had prospered as the southern cities had grown — there was always a market for smoked whitefish.
There were no houses, as such — most of the buildings were underground, or at least dug in to roof level, so that the town looked like a collection of hats left lying on the ground by careless giants. Some were roofed with straw, some with turves. They were spaced in a series of circles, surrounded by gardens, so that no one was far from a neighbor’s door, but each household had a green space around it. The gardens were full of vegetables but there were no flowers except the ones which bloomed casually along the side of the street.
Foreverfroze was a casual place overall. Green-eyed, fair-skinned children ran by their horses, calling up at them in a sweet, singing language, their black hair cut short, boys and girls alike. Martine realized that she was among people of her exact coloring: the pale skin, the green eyes, the black straight hair. A wave of excitement rose in her. There were still places, then, where the old blood lived together. Survived. Thrived. The last time she had been in a village of her own kind seemed a lifetime ago. Was it twenty-two, twenty-three years, since the twin villages of her birthplace had been destroyed by the Ice King’s men? She had thought that the old blood was permanently scattered, flung in droplets across the Domains, harassed and driven and cheated and spat upon. She had thought there was no resting place for her people anymore. But here they were, just living. Tears rose in her eyes and her heart felt hot and tight. She was grateful that the town itself was different from her home. But the people were so similar, she almost expected to see Cob, or her mother, or one of her many aunties, come around the side of one of the roofs.
Instead, men sat in groups by the small doorways of their houses, weaving baskets; or tended the gardens; or nursed a baby. One lifted a hand as the party rode by. Occasionally an old woman mending a fishing net nodded to them as they went past. They saw only one younger woman. She was heavily pregnant. Otherwise, Martine knew, she too would have been out on the fishing ships.
On the horse, looking out across rooftops, it struck Martine forcefully that there was nothing in the town taller than an adult human. She felt like a giant, and was reminded of stepping back across Obsidian Lake with Bramble in tow, when she had felt immense, like one of the old gods.
The road curved through the circles of houses until it came to a half-circle set back from the wharfs, which were the only things that looked like their equivalent in the south. There were no large boats tied up, although there were quite a few small skiffs with blue sails out in the harbor. Martine noticed a few nets spread to dry. The largest building in the semi-circle was a big hall with an entrance held up by pillars of carved wood — precious in this landscape of sparse and stunted trees.
A few men and two older women ambled across to meet them at the doors. They dismounted and Holly took the reins, being careful to avoid Trine’s teeth. One of the men beckoned her to bring them around the back of the hall. Arvid looked at Safred and then at Martine. He seemed to be debating whether or not to take the lead.
“Skua, Fox, greetings,” he said to the older women. It was hard to tell them apart, they were both so wrinkled and bent and white-haired, although Fox had a more determined mouth and Skua’s eyes were so creased with good humor that they almost disappeared when she smiled.
They nodded at him and then at the rest of the party, examining Martine with interest. She smiled at them, and Skua came forward and patted her cheek and said something, something she could almost understand. It was as though the language of her childhood had been taken and twisted back onto itself. The rhythm was right, some of the syllables were right, but the meaning eluded her.
“Skua says, you look like one of them,” Arvid said, surprised as he took in the resemblance.
Fox said something seriously.
“Fox says the old blood will never be gone from the land while you are alive.”
Martine shivered a little. That seemed too much like a prophecy for her taste.
“Let’s hope I live forever, then,” she said lightly. From their reaction it was clear they understood her, because both women firmed their mouths in a wry half-smile, and Skua patted her on the shoulder, as though she read her thoughts as well.
“Come to hall,” Skua said, pronouncing the words with difficulty and some pride. She pushed Martine in the back to get her moving.
That simple touch, full of authority, made Martine feel young and vulnerable. I am a grandmother, she reminded herself, but with the two old women next to her, taking an arm each and shepherding her along the path, she felt like a child again, being taken by her aunties to see the village Voice because of some naughtiness. It had happened, once, when she had Seen the villages being attacked and raised a false alarm. She had been belted well and truly by Alder that day. He had a hard hand and her parents hadn’t spoken to him or his family ever again. She had tried to forget the whole thing. Now, as she was being chivvied along, she realized it had not been a false alarm. She had Seen the attack which eventually destroyed the villages. She had just Seen it too early. Although, in her vision, the attackers had been warlord’s men, not the Ice King. That memory pulled at her for the first time since the beating, and she wondered what her Sight had truly meant. When she had some time and solitude, she would try to remember it more clearly.