In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

feel of his mouth, Serle suspected his wine at lunch the day before the Shahen's arrival had been drugged so he would sleep during the Trebottoms departure.

After washing his face, Serle strolled outside the Inn. The Shahen's forces were cooking breakfast. The nobles had circled their wagons in the circle just as if they were regular Travelers.

The Dracho in charge of the camp spotted Serle watching them and made a sharp gesture for him to approach. When Serle didn't move, he sent two of his men over to bring him. Serle put up a barrier around himself so the men-at arms couldn't touch him.

"He is Magi, Sir," one of them called to his master.

The man frowned, but rode over and sat looking down at Serle. "You are Magi?" he demanded.

"Yes," Serle said.

"Follow me. The Proctor will want to see you," the nobleman said, turning his unicorn and riding toward where the Proctors were camped. Plainly he expected Serle to obey him.

Since the man was taking him where he wanted to go, Serle followed him to the Proctor's wagon. He found him sitting under a canopy erected outside it and sipping a cup of tea. Julis Sandman, the newly appointed Magi Proctor, had worked his way into his present position by dint of hard work, a little blackmail and a lot of intimidation. He was a tall, thin man with a neatly trimmed beard, going gray. He looked up with a frown when the Captain of the Guard approached.

"By your leave, sir," the man said, bowing. "This man is Magi. He came out of the Inn this morning."

Sandman nodded a dismissal at the Dracho. This must be the man the squires had found drugged the night before. "You are Magi?" Sandman asked.

"Yes," Serle said. He said nothing more, waiting for the Proctor's response.

Sandman frowned. "I don't seem to recall your face. What is your name?"

"My name is Simon Winters," Serle told the lie without a blink, not wanting to draw attention to his real name in case the Proctor associated it with his grandfather's participation in the Cadre.

"Who recruited you?"

"Simon MacTavish did. Unfortunately, he has disappeared, so he can't verify it."

"He is alive?"

"The last time I saw them, the entire family was alive, although they were prisoners of the Mabinogions. However, they disappeared the next day. I suspect there is a Gate located within Ironlyn and they were sent through it, but I wasn't able to locate it before I was forced to leave."

The Proctor's eyebrows rose. "Why were you forced to leave?"

Serle shrugged. "A personal matter. In attempting to set up contacts, I became a little too friendly with one of the teaching staff. The Draconi demanded I marry her or leave Ironlyn. I left."

Apparently dismissing the reason as irrelevant, Sandman asked, "How familiar did you become with the terrain?"

Serle grinned. "Well enough so I can furnish you with maps of it. Also, there is a way in through a pass in the mountains. The Wards are weak there."

"Go and get your map."

When Serle returned with his maps, he found the audience had been augmented by the Shahen, several nobles, and General Rojas, the man in charge of the Shahen's troops.

He spread the map showing the pass out on a table and pointed to the entrance to the pass.

"It will take a troop about three days to reach this area," General Rojas said, pointing to the entrance. "If the distance on the map is accurate, it will take another three to get through this Avalanche Pass. From the looks of it, the men will have to ride single file in some places."

"Then they had best start out tonight," the Shahen said. He looked over at Serle. "You will lead them."

Serle swallowed. "If you wish, your majesty, but I have no winter gear or a mount capable of handling the terrain."

"See he has what he needs, Rojas," the Shahen ordered.

He turned to the Proctor. "The fleet is still at least ten days out. The timing of the three attacks will work out excellently."

"Come with me," Rojas directed Serle. "We should have enough winter gear in our stores to outfit you."

The next few days were some of the most miserable Serle had ever lived through. He had spent most of his life in villages and towns and although it snowed there, he could always go inside to warm up. Traveling with a fighting troop was far different. The food was barely tolerable to his delicate palate, they drank water or beer with meals, and they slept outside on the ground. By the time the troop started up the trail to the pass, Serle was regretting making his presence known to the Proctor, but there was no going back.

"You are sure this is the right path?" Joker, the man leading the troop questioned Serle when they reached the opening.

"Yes. I came through the pass and returned the same way, but it was during summer when the pass was clear."

The old solder scowled. "You lead off."

Grimly reflecting he now had no choice, Serle started his unicorn into the trail to the pass.

A recent storm had created a blanket of snow on the ground. It was only a few inches deep, but it made the trail slippery. There was no wind, but a biting cold chilled the bones. There was a brief pressure when Serle passed through the Wards at the edge of the pass. He rode a little further and stopped, waiting to see if the troop would be able to follow him.

At the outpost, Aron and Maegan sensed the quiver in the Wards when the troop entered the pass. The outpost was set in a low valley which protected it somewhat from the weather. Aron and Megan climbed to the rocky cliff overlooking Avalanche Pass. Aron drew out his far-seeing crystal and muttered a few words. Slowly images formed in the large round ball. "Those are the Shahen's colors, aren't they?" Maegan asked.

"Yes," Aron replied. "We need to notify Andre the attack is