At its head, the body of the great Harsh king was borne along on a black wagon. The wagon was drawn by six horses, if they could be said to be living horses. Their coats gleamed in a way that suggested health, but the gleam came in fact from a coating of frost, and their hooves appeared to be of ice. The horses' heads were the same shape and size as that of a normal horse, but their eyes were dark and lifeless, and icicles hung from their mouths . Behind the wagon came the Harsh in procession. Ice kings and queens, princes and dukes of frost, their gorgeous icy raiment shimmering as they moved. And behind them, carried aloft, the small solitary figure of a Harsh child, the only one of his kind . The procession was silent, because the Harsh did not need to speak among themselves. But for those with ears to hear, conversation moved among them like leaves whistling in the wind , 2 and the subject of the conversation was always the same. Revenge. Swift and merciless retribution against the boy who had caused the death of their great king.
