Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 476
squares on the side of the spire. Kneeling, he touched its
surface, which was like worn ceramic, and white with a faintly
pink tinge.
He closed his eyes and focussed his concentration. I am
here. Speak to me.
The wind sighed, and the stones sang their nonsense
tunes: feldspar, gypsum, igneous granite, feldspar, sandstone,
I am lichen, gypsum gypsum... He imagined the desal would
have filled the sky with its voice. It said nothing.
He kicked at pebbles as he walked back to the lean-to.
He couldn’t see Tamsin’s face in the dimness, only her
hunched figure. She had wrapped her arms around her knees
and was gazing out at the failing light along the horizon. He
sat down next to her, grateful for the warmth from his "fire".
They said nothing for a long time, and gradually it
became dark. The clouds had moved on, and the stars began to
come out one by one. This was not a good sign: it would be a
cold night. The chill padded in along the ground, inexorable
and silent. Still, Jordan lay for a while watching the emerging
stars. Now and then small flashes of light appeared, as if the
sun were glittering off bright things way up there in the
heavens. Doubtless it was, but he had no idea what they might
be, and was past all wondering by now.
"Are you all right?" whispered Tamsin. He rolled on his
side. She leaned forward to put more dirt in the dust bowl,
which had cooled. "Could you make some more heat for us?"
"All right." He moved next to her, and she brought her
blanket up to cover both of them. With a silent command, he
made the new soil in the bowl blossom with heat. It wasn’t
lasting long tonight; they would sleep in bitter cold.
One timeless moment he lay in the grip of merciless cold,