The Saga of the Renunciates (100 page)

“Just get it down—don’t bother about how it tastes.”

“Same to you, Magda,” Jaelle reproved dryly. “You’ve forgotten yours. Finish that before you lie down.”

Magda nodded, acknowledging the reproof. She was too tired to rummage in her pack for clean socks, but she did it anyway, and took her boots into the bottom of the sleeping bag. Jaelle and Camilla slid a filled water bottle inside their bag, keeping it from freezing with body heat. They spread extra blankets over all the sleeping bags, huddling together to conserve the last bits of warmth.

Vanessa had chosen the outside edge; Cholayna between her and Magda, with Jaelle and Camilla curled up against them. Magda was too tired to sleep; one by one she heard the other women drop off with soft-breathing slumber, but she lay awake, hearing the soft rasping of Cholayna’s breath, Jaelle coughing a little in her sleep. She could sense Camilla’s shivers: she was the thinnest of them, with the least body fat; and though Magda knew the
emmasca
was tougher than copper wire, she resolved to speak to her about warmer clothes. At higher altitudes this would be serious, and Camilla had a great deal of emotional investment in proving her own toughness; she might not want to dress more warmly than, say, Vanessa, who had, though she was slenderly made, the normal extra layer of fat on a human female. Camilla didn’t, and had a phobia about calling attention to the fact.

Magda turned over cautiously without disturbing the women to either side, and wondered if she was going to sleep at all. She should really try. She composed herself mentally for some of the disciplines she had learned in matrix work; then decided that she would, before she slept, check in briefly with the Forbidden Tower circle— her family. They should know where she was, and that she would not be returning home as soon as she had promised.

Although if we do get over this damnable pass tomorrow, and catch up to Lexie and Rafaella, I’m going back to Shaya as soon as I can!

Jaelle was deeply asleep.
No need for her to come along
.

Briefly, Magda monitored her body, checking to be sure the circulation was adequate in fingers and toes; there was always a small but distinct danger involved in leaving the body under these conditions.

Then she was out of her body and standing in the gray and faceless plain of the overworld, swiftly looking round for the landmark of the Forbidden Tower, sending out a silent call to Callista.

But there was no sign of the Tower. And then, in the grayness, a strange and unfamiliar face slowly took shape before Magda’s eyes.

It was a woman’s face, old, with deep-set eyes under eyebrows that were all white; a wrinkled forehead beneath braided hair as white as the eyebrows. Devoid of the benevolent peace Magda always associated with wrinkles and age, this woman glared—and although there were no words, Magda felt the angry challenge.

Go back. You may not pass here.

“By whose authority do you challenge my freedom of the overworld?” Magda called up in her mind a clear picture of the Tower and of Damon, its Keeper.

The old woman threw back her head and emitted what Magda could only characterize as a series of yelps, though after a moment she knew they were intended as mocking laughter.

That one doesn’t cut any ice out here, you’ll have to do better than him to get by out here! You ought to turn around and go right back, girl, get back to your baby, you had no business leaving her anyhow! What do you girls think you’re at anyway, climbing around out here? Heh-eh-eh! Think you’re tough and strong? Proud of yourself for getting up this little hill, heh? You haven’t seen anything yet
, chiya! (The word was tinged with scathing contempt. )
Pack of girls and a couple of old ladies without the honesty to admit they’re too old to take it anymore! Oh no, you won’t get through when the going gets rough! Suppose you think you know the way, the passwords? Well, try it, just try it, that’s all. Heh hen heh, heh-eh-eh-eh-eeeee!

With her head thrown back, the white braids jiggling with scornful laughter, the horrible old crone shook her fist at Magda. Magda knew that she was betraying her fear, for in the overworld it was impossible to conceal one’s real feelings; nevertheless she said firmly: “Old mother, you cannot deny me my place here.”

And what are you doing out here, leaving your child and all?

Magda’s instinct to answer,
What business of yours is it
? was tempered by some knowledge of the laws by which the overworld worked. You could not avoid a challenge; nor was this her first, though never had she faced anything like this hideous old woman. So she answered, “I am following a call of duty and friendship.”

Hah! You’re no friend to either of them that’s gone ahead; you don’t have the guts to do what they do, jealous, that’s all.

Magda considered this and answered, “That doesn’t matter. My friends are worried about it, and I am going tor their sake.”

Heh-eh-eh! Not good enough! I knew it! What you have to do on this quest, you have to do for your own reasons, can’t follow no one else out here. See? I knew it. Get back
! She raised her hand, and it seemed that a bolt of blue fire struck Magda between the breasts. Pain lanced through her heart, and she felt herself falling, tailing…

The gray world was gone. Magda shivered inside her sleeping bag, back in her body… Or had she ever left it? Had she not simply fallen asleep, the whole encounter been a bizarre dream dramatizing her own mental conflicts about this strange and unwanted quest? She could hear Cholayna moaning softly in her sleep, and Jaelle muttering, “no, no,” and wondered if her friend was having nightmares about ledges and cliffs.

Should she try to go back at once into the overworld? She had been told that such a failure should immediately be challenged again, that it was like being thrown from a horse: you must at once mount and ride again. But had she ever been in the overworld at all, had she not simply fallen asleep? She knew it was unwise to attempt psi work when you were overtired or ill, and the ordeal of the climb and her tremendous fatigue made it unsafe.

Firmly summoning the disciplines she had been taught, she began to count herself quietly down into sleep. She could not afford to lie awake with the crossing of Ravensmark before them tomorrow.

Jaelle crawled to the edge of the rock overhang and looked out. “Snowing harder than ever,” she said grimly. “I don’t think we’re going anywhere in this!”

“I have to go out anyhow. I’ll check the animals,” Camilla said, climbing over her. When she returned, she was scraping at her boot distastefully. “Step carefully when you go out; with ten animals out there, it’s like a stable.”

“Well, there’s a snow shovel in one of the loads, if you feel like shoveling it clean,” Jaelle said, and went out. She came back grimacing. “Snowing like Zandru’s sixth or seventh hell. And guess what?”

Vanessa, kneeling at the back of the ledge to light a fire, turned to rummage in her own pack. She tossed a small packet at Jaelle and said, “Be my guest. There’s an old maxim on women’s climbing expeditions: whatever’s going to happen will happen at the worst possible time. You’re lucky. Usually it happens just above seven thousand.”

“It’s not the worst possible time,” Magda said, “it could be a nice clear morning and you’d have to go out and lead the pass. Crawl back in your sleeping bag, Shaya, and I’ll make you a hot drink.”

Complying, Jaelle said, “I don’t suppose you brought any golden-flower tea?”

“Whatever that is, I don’t think so,” Vanessa said, “but I have some prostaglandin inhibitors in my medikit.” She dug out some tablets while Magda was making porridge, heavily fortified with fruit and extra sugar. Cholayna got a heavier sweater from her pack and pulled it on. She was shivering.

“I’d like a good stiff drink.”

“At this altitude? You’d be roaring drunk before you could drink three sips!” Vanessa said. “Try a caffeine tablet instead.” She handed them around with the porridge; only Camilla refused.

“Does it look as if it would clear any time today?”

“I’ve no idea,” Jaelle said. “I know what’s worrying you: if we get two or three feet of snow, we’re really in trouble. The pass isn’t the kind we can get through with snow up to our knees or worse.” They could all hear what she did not say aloud, that going back past the narrow ledges of the washed-out area would be as dangerous as trying to go ahead. And with every hour that passed, their chances of overtaking Rafaella and Lexie grew less.

They ate porridge, and afterward Vanessa and Camilla repacked the stacked loads. The sky remained gray, but the snow grew no heavier. It seemed to Magda that it was slowing, if not stopping.

Camilla said once, staring out over the cliff edge, “There are devils in this place. Was I the only one to suffer Alar’s own nightmares?”

“It’s the altitude,” said Cholayna. “My head is splitting. I dreamed I was in that damned city Lexie was talking about, and there were a dozen women with horns and tails and false-face masks like the demons of my ancestral tribes, all trying to make me crawl through a needle’s eye before I could come in. They said I was too fat, and they were squeezing me through and burning off what hung outside the edges.”

“Bad dreams are the rule at this altitude,” Vanessa said. “I dreamed about
you
, Cholayna. You were telling me that if we ever got back I’d have to take a demotion of three grades for insubordination.”

Jaelle chuckled. “I dreamed my daughter was a Keeper, and she was telling me that because I had deserted her, I’d never be competent enough to work on my own. Then she was trying to give me lessons in monitoring, only instead of a matrix it was a chervine turd and I had to turn it to stone.”

They all laughed, except Camilla, who frowned and stared at her clenched knuckles. “What I dreamed I will not say. But there are devils in this place.”

“Altitude and cold,” said Magda briskly. “You’re too thin. Another layer of heavy underwear ought to take care of it.”

Hours crawled by. Toward noon, there was a vagrant glimmer toward the south, and Jaelle said, “I think the sun’s trying to come out. We ought to get along if we can.”

“Want me to break trail?” Vanessa offered, as they crawled out of their sleeping bags.

“No, thanks, really, I’m fine. Your pills are wonder workers, I never felt better. Truly, Vanessa, I’m not just trying to stay ahead. If I need help, I’ll say so, I promise. But I know the way and you don’t. I can manage. Believe me, if I get chilled or overtired, I’ll let you take the lead, but even with me leading, a lot of the landmarks aren’t going to be visible.” She slung her pack over the pony’s back. “Let’s get the loads on. Cinch them well, the footing’s likely to be bad.”

There was a thick heavy silence around the ledge as they cinched loads and packs. In the damp heavy air, even the small sounds made by the animals seemed unreal. The snow was firm and crunching softly underfoot, and not as slippery as Magda had feared. She looked back down the trail they had come up. It seemed to her that they were very high, but above them the trail went on, curving around rocks and disappearing.

Jaelle put one hand on her pony’s rein; she had tethered the chervine to it so that the pack beast had no choice but to follow. Camilla took the reins of the next three animals, and began climbing after Jaelle. Here the trail was steep but by no means impassable.

Magda gestured to Cholayna to go before her, and waited until the Terran woman was several steps up the trail before setting her animals on the way and beginning to climb. Up and up the trail led, and as they climbed the sun came out. There was a clear view, where the trail curved, of a whole range of hills beyond; the path led steeply upward, against the sharp rock cliff, to a notch between two peaks.

“Ravensmark,” Jaelle said, pointing, and started up toward it.

Magda climbed. She felt fresh and strong, but though she climbed steadily for hours, the pass seemed no nearer. About every hour, Jaelle called a halt for rest, but even so she was tiring, and after three or four rests, she called Vanessa forward to take the lead.

“As soon as we’re through the pass, I’ll lead again. There’s a nasty bit just below the top, on the other side.”

Vanessa nodded assent. Jaelle dropped back beside Camilla, who looked like a thundercloud.

“Want to take the rear? I don’t feel up to it,” Jaelle said, and Camilla went quietly back along the trail to take up the rearguard, pausing to ask how Cholayna was doing.

“It helps to be able to see where we’re going.”

Magda felt she would rather not see. She kept her eyes away from the edges.

As Camilla passed Magda on her way, she paused to draw a deep breath. “We’ll be past the worst soon. From there, it’s downhill.”

Magda was almost too short of breath to nod her gratitude for that. With the sun out, it was more cheerful, but the snow was beginning to melt and the going was more slippery. For the final steep haul upward to the pass, she had to stretch herself to the utmost; she could hear her breath whistling loudly in her lungs as she struggled up the last bit to stand between Jaelle and Cholayna in the throat of the peaks.

Jaelle swore under her breath; pointed.

“That used to be the trail,” she said. Now the pathway downward was buried beneath tons of rock and shifting gravel, half hidden in the snow.

“Washout, rockslide, the gods alone know what else under there. Old rotten ice from the peak must have crashed down on it in the spring rains, and that part of the trail is gone for good.”

“So what do we do now?” Vanessa asked. “Can it be crossed at all?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Lightweight, climbing, I could get across it. The chervines could probably get down. Look—” She pointed.“Down past that clump of trees, the trail’s fairly good again. At least there
is
some kind of trail! The rockslide covered about five hundred meters, more or less, with rocks and rubble. It’s steep, and it looks nasty. It’s probably not as bad as it looks—”

“Unless all this loose snow starts sliding down again. It looks as if there might be loose rocks, too, which could start avalanching down when we set foot on it,”

Camilla said, coming to join them. “No wonder we had nightmares back there.” The women stood looking down, while Magda and Cholayna, knowing they could contribute nothing to the discussion, stood silent, looking down at the chaos of snow, rock and old ice heaped up below them where once there had been at least the semblance of a trail.

At last Vanessa suggested, “Jaelle, you and I could rope up and scout the way down on foot. At least we’d know then whether it’s solid enough underfoot to bring the animals down after us. With the snow this deep, it’s likely to be frozen hard enough underneath that it won’t start sliding too fast. That was a damned hard freeze last night.”

Jaelle thought that over for a minute, then she said, “I don’t see any alternative. Unless someone else has a better idea?”

Nobody did. It was clearly obvious that the only other choice was to turn around, retrace their steps over Ravensmark and detour through Hammerfell. They had certainly lost any chance of catching up with Rafaella at Barrensclae.

“If we’d known,” Jaelle said grimly, rummaging through a load, looking for her ice axe, “we could have taken the Great Northern Road directly to Nevarsin.”

“And if the Duke of Hammerfell had worn a skirt,” Camilla said, “he might have been the Duchess.”

“Jaelle, hindsight is always twenty-twenty vision,” Cholayna reminded her. “We did the best we could. The important thing is that we’re here, and so far we’re safe.”

Jaelle said, with a twitchy small grin, “Let’s just hope we can still say that tonight. Vanessa, give me the rope. Do you want to lead down, or shall I?”

“I don’t see that it makes any difference. We can both see where the road ought to be, and isn’t. I’ll start.” She snapped the buckle of a body harness around her waist, tested the free passage of the rope through it, and took a firm grip on her ice axe.

“A few feet of slack. That’s right.” She placed her feet gingerly on the snow and rubble and started to pick her way down; went over the edge, slid, and the rope went tight. Magda heard Cholayna’s breath go out in a gasp, but after a minute Vanessa called up, “I’m all right, lost my footing. Tricky here. Let me find a solider step. Hang on tight.”

Presently her head reappeared, climbing up.

“This way won’t go. There’s a drop-off of forty meters just below here, I’ll have to scout over this way.” She went slowly leftward, picking her footing with caution. This time she managed to keep her feet under her; after a time, it began to look rather like a trail. Jaelle handed the rope to Magda.

“You and Camilla belay me from here.” She started after Vanessa, picking her way carefully in the rut of Vanessa’s trail. Camilla came and stood behind Magda, ready to hold the rope hard if either of the women below them should slip. They were out of sight now. Magda, Camilla holding her firmly round the waist, felt her breath coming hard. Part of it was fear; the rest was helplessness. She was no good here: she had no climbing skills, no mountaincraft. All she could do was hang on and trust her freemate.

“That’s enough,” Camilla said softly—or had she spoken aloud? Was it the silence, the isolation of the mountain trail, where no other minds intruded, that meant that Magda did not need to shield against the low-level telepathic jangle of cities and crowds, and so made it seem that she was almost constantly in communion with Camilla’s mind? She didn’t know, and her mind was on something else anyhow. But she leaned back against Camilla’s hands, firmly bracing her and holding her weight, as the rope stretched taut, holding the climbers below. Her throat and nose were painfully dry; the cold dryness of the heights dehydrated sinuses and mucous membranes, and all she could think of was how much she wanted a drink. It must have been harder still for Jaelle and Vanessa, fighting ice and loose rock below.

The rope slackened, and for a moment Magda panicked, fearing a broken rope, a fall… Then a ringing call came up from somewhere below them.

“It’s all right. It will go this way. I’m coming up.” It was Jaelle’s voice, and after a long time she reappeared, climbing carefully up from below.

Vanessa came after, bent over and breathing hard.

“I want a drink,” she said, and Cholayna found the water bottle and passed it to the climbers.

When Jaelle had recovered her breath, she said, “It’s all right; not even very steep. There’s one bad place where there’s loose rock; we’ll have to lead the horses over one at a time, very carefully, so they don’t slip. It would be damned easy for any of us to break a leg there. But everywhere else it’s solid underfoot, and we kicked away what we could of the loosest stuff. Below there, the trail starts again. It’s narrow, but it’s
there
. I think we can make it. But I’m going to take Cholayna across that stretch myself.” She took another drink, gasping. But at Camilla’s concerned look, she said only, “I’m fine, don’t fuss,” and Magda knew better than to display any concern.

“Hunt out some bread and cheese; we should eat lunch here,” Vanessa said, “and if anyone has any little personal things to attend to, do it here. There’s no place below to step off the trail.”

“As I recall,” Cholayna joked, “there’s no trail to step off of.”