The Conqueror's Shadow (27 page)

The guide chewed the inside of his cheek in contemplation, finally nodding. “Whatever you may be, good Master, I think you are not an idiot. Moreover, however lowly I may be as compared with so august a personage as yourself, I am a man of my word. I will not turn back now, if you will not.”

Or he wants to get his hands on whatever's so valuable. But that's just fine with me. I
want
him to get his hands on it …

What Corvis
said
, however, was “I'm glad to hear it, Sah-di. I'm as rested as I'll ever be. Let's get started.”

The remainder of that hellish day, their ascent up the wind-blasted, ice-encrusted rock, became little more than a blur in Corvis's memory. The entire day metamorphosed into an endless labor of fear and pain. Had he been asked even a day later, he could never have described an individual moment of the climb. He recalled nothing of the rough and abrasive rope; the bruised and blackened fingers as they sought, numb with cold, for a ledge wide enough to grip; the hammering on the pitons that echoed back louder than when they'd begun; his nails, torn and bleeding even beneath his heavy gloves, the blood pooling and sticking to the tips of his fingers. It was, in the truest sense of the word, a timeless experience; it took forever, it took no time at all. After an eternity of sheer hell, in the blink of an eye they were there.

By the time the slope leveled out, just a few hundred feet shy of the peak, there was no rational thought left to Corvis; he was an automaton, moving by rote. Sah-di was forced to drag him to the slight shelter provided by an outcropping of stone, and Corvis only watched emptily as the Terrirpa hustled about, setting up something a little less crude. He'd barely erected the small tent when Corvis crawled inside and collapsed into oblivion.

SAH-DI WATCHED HIM
, idly rubbing his hands on his own arms, and knelt down to start a small fire, well shielded from the winds by a bulwark of rock and snow. He considered abandoning this madman in the night and returning home, but just as quickly dismissed the idea as a poor one. If he'd planned to go back, the place to have done so was at the base of the cliff, not here at the top. The worst of the ascent was over, and he wasn't sure he possessed the strength to tackle the cliff again without sleep and food.

And this one called Cerris, assuming he wasn't weaving tapestries out of moonbeams and spiderwebs, might provide substantial reward for those efforts. Carefully, Sah-di rose to his feet. The only sounds coming from the alcove were the crackling of the cheerful little fire
and the faint crunch of the native's boots breaking snow, and both were well obscured by the screaming winds. His eyes gleaming with something more than reflected firelight, Sah-di went in search of Cerris's supposed cave.

CORVIS AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING
to find the guide standing over him, his expression far less simpering than it once was. “You've dragged us up here for nothing, you madman!” Sah-di snarled, his usual obsequiousness apparently having been lost in the snow at some point the previous evening.

Corvis peered at him, bleary-eyed. The night of sleep, secure in the tent and warmed by the fire, had done him great good. Though just a few steps shy of frostbite, and so sore that he wasn't certain he'd ever move again, he was again fully aware.

Not that his guide's ranting was helping matters. “Sah-di, I don't have the vaguest idea what you're talking about.”

“I'm talking about your cave of treasures!” the Terrirpa raved at him. “I've taken you all this way, and it doesn't even exist!”

Slowly, ignoring the screaming protests from muscles he'd never known he possessed, Corvis rose to his feet and squinted the sleep from his eyes. “Sah-di,” he said, “first off, I'm in a considerable amount of discomfort, and I'm colder than a yeti's backside, so I'd appreciate that you not add yelling to my list of Things That Are Really Irritating Me Right Now. Second, it makes no difference to
you
if the cave's here or not. You agreed to guide me for a set fee, of which I've already given you half. So I have not in any way, shape, or form wasted your time.”

“But—”

“And third, what makes you think the cave doesn't exist?”

“Because I spent all last night searching for it!” Sah-di shouted at him, practically spitting in Corvis's face. Only after the words left his mouth did he realize that, just maybe, this wasn't something he should have admitted.

Corvis raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And why would you do that?”

“I … I thought I might scout it for any further dangers or impediments to our progress, good Master.”

“Right. Pull the other one, Sah-di; I'm getting lopsided.”

Sah-di blinked. “You said what?”

“Forget it.” Corvis sighed. “Sah-di, if the cave was easy to find, someone might have stumbled across it years ago. Certain steps were taken to prevent that from happening.”

“Steps?”

“The cave's hidden, Sah-di.”

“What? How do you hide a cave?”

Bracing himself against the cold, Corvis tightened the furs around him and stepped from the tent. His guide, face twitching in puzzlement, followed.

“There,” Corvis said finally, after a few minutes, just as the Terrirpa began to grumble. He pointed to a solid face of rock, liberally sprinkled with icicles. “The cave is there.”

Sah-di threw up his hands. He'd been right the first time: This man was a full-fledged lunatic. “There is nothing there!” he screeched, once again dropping the boot-licking servant bit. “I know you're not blind, so I have to assume that you're either crazy or prodigiously stupid, and I will have nothing more to do with any of this!” And having made his declaration, he retreated swiftly, as though to break camp and begin the treacherous descent just as soon as he possibly could.

Corvis took a deep breath, braced himself just in case he'd misremembered the spot, and walked through the rock wall.

When he reemerged a moment later, Sah-di was staring incredulously at the spot where he'd vanished, hands loosely clasping one of the tent poles. Muttering irritably to himself, Corvis trudged back over to the tent, pushed past the immobile Terrirpa, and then stepped out into the cold once more, this time with his equipment pack. He stopped by the insubstantial stone, dropped the pack, and removed a torch. Flint struck steel, sparks flew, and the brand ignited. Corvis drew Sunder in his right hand, holding the torch aloft in his left.

“So? You coming with me?”

Sah-di approached warily, trying to keep his eyes on Corvis, the
wall, and the tent all at once. He lit a torch off his companion's, clutching a crescent-moon saber in his other hand. Then, though his face blanched as he looked at the rock face that wasn't there, he nodded once.

Corvis returned the nod, and they stepped through.

The cave was deep, extending an enormous distance back and down into the mountain. The ceiling, however, was a claustrophobic eight inches over Corvis's head, and it was narrow enough for both side walls to reflect the flickering torches.

“How is this possible?” Sah-di breathed.

“Well,” Corvis began, “when the mountains formed, the rocks shifted and cracked, and that left large gaps in the stone. Over the course of time …” He stopped, doing his best not to smile at his guide's withering glare. “Or were you referring, perhaps, to the illusionary wall?”

“I might just have been, good Master,” Sah-di said through clenched teeth.

“Ah.” Corvis moved ahead. His boots echoed endlessly, his pace slowed by the need to avoid the stalagmites jutting from the floor. The flickering torchlight danced happily across the walls with the shadows of the two men, moving in a frenetic waltz. Occasionally, a single drip reverberated through the cave.

“The item I seek was placed here magically, Sah-di,” Corvis told him, keeping his voice hushed as most people seem to do in dark and ancient places. “It was essential to protect it. Hence, the illusion.”

“It is truly so valuable?” the guide asked, enough avarice dripping from his voice to eventually congeal into a brand-new stalagmite.

“Sah-di, I can assure you that you'll never see anything more valuable in your life.”

Only the presence of the torch in one fist and the saber in the other prevented the Terrirpa from literally rubbing his hands together.

Glad to be out of the biting winds, Corvis moved briskly through the cave, dodging the various impediments, and passing side passages with little more than a glance. Sah-di lost any remaining doubt that his employer knew exactly where he was going.

Until they rounded a sharp bend in the passage and were halted by a looming wall of ice.

Solid, impossibly smooth, it radiated a sense of overwhelming age. No simple sheet of frozen water, this, but a remnant of the all-encompassing glaciers that marched across the lands in ancient days, when winter held dominion for ages without end. Unimaginably thick, the sheet before them reflected black in the feeble flickering of the torches.

“By all the gods!” Sah-di whispered reverently. “In all my years, I have never even suspected …” He shook his head slowly. “How is this possible?”

“You're starting to repeat yourself, Sah-di,” Corvis commented.

“Yes, good Master.”

Corvis smiled tightly. “It is fairly impressive, isn't it?” He shrugged. “Shall we get started?”

“Started with what, good Master?”

Corvis waved a hand toward the ice. “Where do you think the treasure is hidden?”

“What!”

“Magic, remember?” Then, “Relax, Sah-di. It's not much more than ten feet in.”

“You expect us to carve our way through ten feet of solid ice?”

“Unless you have a better idea. Our torches wouldn't melt more than a few drops off this thing, and I doubt there's enough wood nearby to build a larger fire. And let's not forget that we've got no idea what would happen to the cave if we softened too much of that wall. It
probably
wouldn't affect the stability of the surrounding rock, but …”

Sah-di shuddered. “I have picks among my tools, of course,” he told Corvis. “But even if we make our tunnel narrow, such a task could take us weeks! Ice this thick and this old will not easily yield to outside pressures.”

“Surprisingly enough, I'm aware of that. Your job now, Sah-di, is to hold the torches so I can see.” Corvis held his own torch out to the startled guide, who sheathed his blade so he might carry both. The older man then hefted Sunder in both hands.

“No, good Master, you will blunt your weapon. You should use a pick.”

“You might be surprised, Sah-di.”

The Terrirpa shrugged. “It is your axe, good Master. If you wish to turn it into a blunt instrument, that is entirely up to you.”

Corvis just smiled. “I suggest you stand back,” he warned. “Splinters.”

“As you say.”

The cave rang when Sunder bit into the primal ice, quickly followed by a deafening, earth-shaking series of cracks. Shards of ice indeed sprang from the point of impact, ripping a few small holes in Corvis's furs.

When Sah-di glanced fearfully over the arms he'd rapidly crossed before his face—his hair and coats kept from the burning torches by sheer luck—he observed with amazement that Corvis's single blow had created a fissure six inches deep. Far from the weeks of hard labor the task should have demanded, it looked as though his employer would achieve their goal in hours!

“Sah-di,” Corvis suggested, glancing over his shoulder, “I realize it's cold in here, but I think setting your shoulders on fire might be pushing it a bit.”

The Terrirpa straightened out the torches; he also made a point of stepping as far back from the ice wall as he could without depriving Corvis of the torchlight.

It was a strange thing to contemplate, but as the hours crept by, Corvis noticed that the chips of ice piling up around him exuded the most unusual scent. It was a dry sort of smell, slightly sour, with hints of minerals and dried meats. And it occurred to him, as he worked, that these could be odors and emanations captured hundreds of thousands of years ago, locked for eons in the immortal ice. Corvis found himself awed by the realization, silly as it might seem, that he might be the first human being to smell this particular aroma since before the dawn of civilization.