A Shadow on the Glass (53 page)

She began to climb back up. “The first few rungs are gone. Perhaps there’s been a rockfall. There’s a short piece of rope in my pack. Can you get it?”

Llian found the rope and handed it to her. It was about four spans long. She tied one end around his chest, checking the knots with care, then the other around her waist. “Brace yourself behind that rock and when I call lower me carefully.”

Llian got behind the outcrop at the cliff edge. Karan disappeared down the cleft. Pebbles rattled down the cliff and the rope tightened sharply. “Let out a little rope,” she called.

Llian paid out it out carefully. There was only an arm’s length left when she called out again, “That’s enough. Pull me up again.”

He pulled her up slowly. Though she was small it was
hard work, and his knees were trembling by the time the strain came off. Her head reappeared.

“It’s no use,” she said. “Part of the cliff has fallen, carrying ten or twelve rungs with it. Below that most of them seem to be there.”

“What can we do? There’s nothing up here to tie the rope to. I can get you down, but not myself.”

Karan looked along the edge. He was right. The outcropping limestone formed smooth, rounded masses, too large to loop a rope around, too gently curving for it to take a grip anyway.

“Down there I can see a few cracks. Perhaps we could wedge a knife in one of them and tie the rope to it,” Llian suggested.

Karan considered the idea, frowning. “The rock’s too weak, and I wouldn’t care to hang from my little knife over such a drop. Besides, we’ll need the rope later, so we’ll have to use it double, looped over something.”

“It isn’t long enough. I was almost out of rope when you called.”

“You were up on the cliff edge. Suppose we could wedge something in that crack down there, that would save a little. If we looped it around, it might just do.”

Karan measured the length carefully with her eyes, her head on one side, whistling tonelessly through pursed lips. “No, even then we would be short by so much.” She spread her arms apart three times. She climbed out and sat down on the ground, pulling everything out of her pack. “We could cut up a blanket and tie the strips together, but that still leaves us with nothing to anchor it to. What do you have?”

Llian went through his pack. “Nothing I would trust my life to.”

Karan sank her head in her arms, rocking her body back and forth. She looked up at the sky. “Already I can sense
them. They’re only a few hours away.” She began to despair that they had left too late.

Llian paced back and forth. “What can we use to anchor the rope?” he wondered aloud. “There isn’t even any wood, save at the boat.” Then, he said, “Anchor the rope! Of course.”

Karan stared at him. “There was an anchor in the boat,” he said excitedly. “A two-fluked anchor under the transom. Just what we need.”

“Was there any rope?”

“I can’t remember. There was also a painter, though I cut it short as we escaped. Shall I go back and get it?”

“Yes, but go quickly, and carefully. Time is precious now.”

He ran off. With a leaden feeling growing inside her, Karan lay down on the rocky ground, staring up at the sky. Surely all this wouldn’t come to naught for the want of a piece of rope. That should have been the first thing to pack.

She closed her eyes and allowed the contents of her mind to seep away, even the tiny image of Llian, always present since the trial, now jogging over the hummocks and hollows toward the ruined boat. She cast around for other presences and soon caught them; a roaring, a thundering of Aachim coming down the river, foremost among them a storm cloud speeding out of the north, out of the mountains, billowing up and spreading out over all with its tempestuous winds, its darkness and its lightnings: Tensor! Karan shrank back before the storm and wrenched her eyelids apart. What a curse to be sensitive. The sun still shone in a pale blue sky, but a chill had gone through her and she was more afraid than ever.

I will not be taken again, she thought. I will never let Tensor have the Mirror, even if I have to leave Llian behind. Though that would end it all; that would break me now.

* * *

She heard the thud of Llian’s footsteps long before she could see him. Poor Llian; he must be exhausted. She climbed onto an outcrop and watched him all the way back.

“I saw them,” Llian burst out as soon as he saw her, “just then, from that tall hill back there. A boat is coming down the gorge.” He was red in the face but he had the anchor and the rope.

“How far back was it?”

“It had just come into sight.”

“Then they’ll soon reach the campsite. The search will take a while, but still they can be here in hours. Oh, Llian, they are so strong, and I’m afraid. Quickly, the anchor.”

She hammered the flukes more or less parallel to the shaft with her hatchet, until the anchor resembled a badly made arrowhead. Then Karan went down and bashed it deep into a crack in the rock just above the sheer part of the fissure. She tied the two pieces of rope together and passed one end through the eye of the anchor until the rope hung down in two equal lengths.

“I don’t think I can climb down that,” he said, his stomach turning.

“Then tie some knots in it. Make sure they’ll slide through the eye though. Or better still, tie them in only one length so that we can pull it out after. Keep calm; it’s not that far.”

Llian tied several knots in the rope, trying not to think of what lay ahead. “It’s ready,” he said.

Karan nodded. She took off her boots and socks and thrust them in her pack. Taking the ropes confidently, she eased herself feet first over the edge and made her way down, clinging with her toes and one hand, the other holding the ropes as tightly as her plastered wrist would allow. Llian could scarcely bear to watch, but at last she reached the rungs and he saw her clinging to the cliff face while the
ropes swung free. She looked up at him with a pained expression, shaking her wrist, then moved slowly, hand over hand, down the rungs.

He hung over the precipice, gripped the rope firmly in both hands and tried to climb down. His palms were too sweaty to get a good grip. The rope slipped across his hand, he squeezed with all his might, stopped in mid-air, then his weight pulled him down again, faster and faster, and he could do nothing to stop it. Llian was almost paralyzed with terror, then his hands hit the first knot and he stopped with a jerk. He hung there, slowly revolving on the rope, the strength ebbing from his fingers, sure that the next slide would finish him.

“Hurry up,” came an impatient call from below.

The shout startled him and he slid down to the next knot before realizing it. He stayed there only a second before continuing, a shocking pain in the palms of his hands. He reached the last knot and took a death grip on the rungs. He was shaking and his knees were weak. “The rope,” she called. He gave a clumsy jerk and it fell past them to the bottom. Karan scowled up at him, then turned and continued down. Llian followed grimly.

The rungs had originally been two handspans apart, but some were missing and others broken, or moved alarmingly when his weight came on them. On one section, where the cliff face bulged outwards, all the rungs for more than twice his height were smashed down against the rock, apparently when part of the cliff above had fallen, and offered the most meager of holds.

Eventually they reached the bottom. Llian sat down on a boulder. Karan touched his shoulder gently. “You did well,” she said.

“It wasn’t quite as bad as I expected,” he lied.

“Of course not. You’ve learned a lot. Though you have an amazing way of going down a rope. Show me your hands.”

Llian held them out, palms upward. Huge welts were burned across them. “You shouldn’t have held it so tightly,” she scolded, smearing the marks with ointment from her soapstone jar. It was nearly empty. The ointment burned; his palms throbbed. She bent down for the rope and replaced it carefully in her pack. They picked their way over the jumble of boulders filling the narrow space at the bottom of the defile. Shortly they came to a low ragged opening in the limestone, leading away from the cliff in the direction of the river.

Inside the cave it was pitch dark. Karan stopped and pulled a small globe from a special pocket; she held it out between thumb and fingers so that it lighted the way ahead.

“What’s that. Did you get it in Shazmak?”

“No, Maigraith gave it to me. It’s a lightglass. I once thought that if I used it the Whelm might sense me, so I put it away.”

“Can I see?”

She passed it to him. Following its dim luminance they set off down the passage ahead.

As their vessel shot out from the enclosing gorge, Tensor caught sight of the ruined boat. He pointed; the helmsman directed the craft toward the bank and the Aachim came ashore. They examined the boat carefully then followed the footprints to the campsite. Tensor stood on a rock overlooking the campsite, the Aachim gathered behind him, silently observing. Finally he gestured and they fanned out around the area, while he stepped down onto the sand. At last a small patch of smooth sand caught his eye. Beside it were the deep impressions of two pairs of boots.

“They squatted here for a while,” he said. “Why, I wonder.”

He stood there for a moment, then held his hand out, palm downwards over the smooth patch. He murmured a word. The Aachim watched, impassive. For almost a minute nothing happened, then, ever so slowly, the grains began to rearrange themselves. In a few minutes, when the movement had stopped, Tensor withdrew his hand.

“It’s a map, of course,” he said to nobody in particular. “But how to read it? Ah! I see. This line must be the River Garr. Of course it is, for there is the island of Sith lying within its two branches. This line represents the mountains of Shazmak behind us. Then this dot must show our present location and—” here his voice rose a little “—this beside the city of Sith must be their destination. So! In that at least she spoke the truth. The closest place for a downriver ferry is Name, two days’ march below the falls. They stayed the night here: the ashes are still warm. They can’t be more than half a day ahead.”

“Perhaps this map is a trick. This Karan, she is
szdorny
, both clever and cunning. We must doubt everything she does,” said one of the Aachim standing near.

“We must!” agreed Tensor, grim of face. He had taken the death of Rael very hard. “If we don’t take them in the tunnels we will split our party, sending half directly to Name, the remainder to follow them wherever they lead. Away!”

They set off toward the edge of the cliff, but before they had gone far across the boggy ground Tensor halted abruptly. “Most curious,” he said, looking down at the tracks. “One of them, the vile Zain I would say—yes, definitely—returned to the boat for something. And not long ago, for see this print—” He pointed to a single set of foot marks, and nearby the tracks of two people. “The water still seeps slowly in, while the others are near to full.”

“The anchor was gone from the boat, Tensor,” called one. “And all the rope. They must be having trouble with the climb.”

“We are within hours of them, then. We’ll take them in the tunnels. She doesn’t know the way. All speed now!” he shouted, and they set off at a great pace, Tensor running slightly ahead with loping, tireless strides. The Aachim followed close behind, twenty in number. They were heavily armed and grim of face, men and women both.

The cave developed into a labyrinth, though at first the way was clear to Karan and they made good speed. As time went on she grew more and more uncertain; yet still, after each choice was made, she walked so fast, almost running, that Llian could barely keep up with her. The globe gave out only enough light to see the floor of the cave a few paces ahead. The way gradually became humpy and broken, full of dark crevices to trap the unwary foot, and deep icy pools, some they could splash through, others they must wade across. Moisture dripped continually from the roof. Once they passed through a curtain of water spraying with great force from a crack in the side of the cave. Soon they were saturated and cold.

They had been going along at this pace for about an hour when Llian called a halt. He grabbed Karan by the shoulder and cried, “I can’t go on. I’m exhausted.”

Karan stopped dead and dashed his arm away. She swung around to face him. “You want to
rest
?” she demanded, her voice stone grating on stone. “They’re close behind and gaining fast. They may know a shorter way. Don’t you have any idea what Tensor will do to you? Come on!”

She stared up at him for a moment longer, her breast heaving. Her hair was plastered to her head and moisture dripped from her forehead. In the bluish light from the globe
she looked ghastly, and far too fierce for Llian to dispute. He mumbled something incomprehensible and she turned and made off with redoubled energy. Llian was glad to be out of her withering glance. He ran after her.

Shortly afterwards they came to a fork in the tunnel and Karan, after a moment’s hesitation, chose the right-hand way, which sloped slightly downwards. Before long, however, it petered out into a narrow rift which no Aachim could ever have squeezed through, and they were forced to go back. Karan began to fret.

“By now they will have reached the top of the cleft,” she said. “They’re only hours behind us and already I’m losing my way. Oh, Llian, I’m afraid that I’ve led us into a trap.”