Through the Ice (20 page)

They left the cave, and left the mud on their clothing. There wasn't much they could do about it at the moment, and it might prove to be effective camouflage.

They reoriented with the compass and map, and started again toward the elf village. They took mincing steps, because though they could see well enough at close range, farther out the night closed in, and the boots would have plunged them into dangerously invisible territory. They were close enough now so that normal progress would suffice.

Seth kept a wary eye on his sword tassel. Instead of being pure white, it remained gray. Apparently they were in constant but not immediate physical danger. Seth wasn't sure he liked that, but he was glad they had the magic amulets that warned them and helped them proceed.

They tested Tirsa's medallion by telling stories and seeing if it could decipher the truth from the lies. It turned out to be quite accurate; they could not deceive it.

Rame tested his medallion by having Tirsa make minor attacks on Seth with her mental powers. Seth wasn't sure just how sincere she was; it depended on how angry she remained at the way he had gotten her through the cave squeeze. The medallion also proved effective, turning gray when she tried; apparently it knew that this was not in earnest. Their friend Wen Dell did seem to be good at his magic.

After walking for about an hour they encountered a fog bank. It was nothing major but it hampered their progress slightly, because their night-vision rings weren't proof against this. Soon it got thicker, coalescing around them and becoming so thick that they had to hold hands to keep together without frequently calling. Only by constantly scrutinizing the compass could they be sure that they were traveling in the right direction. Their night vision was now useless.

Seth wished they could find a safe place to lie down and sleep. He was tired, but didn't dare relax. Once they reached the elf village, then they could rest. If only the way there wasn't so hard!

You are remarking on the obvious again,
Tirsa thought reprovingly. Well, at least she was communicating with him now.

He could tell by the feel of the ground that they were entering marshy land. He remembered how on his own plane snakes seemed to go hand in hand with swamps. Of course snakes were beneficial creatures, and he respected them—but in this fog he felt uneasy about encountering them. Did the backwards Synops travel at night?

Then he thought of something else.
Tirsa, Rame
—
we should be careful,
he thought.
It seems very coincidental to me that this fog bank showed up when night could no longer hamper our progress.

I agree,
Tirsa thought.
But what can we do about it? If we stop moving and stay in the bank till it clears we are an easy target for any creature more adapted to other senses than sight.

We must keep moving,
Rame thought.
Besides, my medallion is white and so is your tassel, right? We aren't in any danger.

Seth was taken aback. He had neglected to watch his tassel, being absorbed by his effort to see through the fog.
Wrong!
he thought, alarmed.
Now it's black!
It must have changed in the last few minutes, and he had been criminally careless in not noting it. Rame's medallion indicated only non-physical danger, so that could mean—

Then he heard Rame scream, and then a thud.

"Seth, Tirsa, stop walking!" the faun called. "I've found the elf village! It's about two hundred feet below us!"

Seth and Tirsa edged over to what the physical danger was: the brink of a cliff. It was clear below the fog, and Rame had fallen only about ten feet onto a large ledge. In the distance they could see the fire lights of what must be the elf village.

Then a gust of wind passed and the faun threw himself flat on the ledge.

"What's the matter?" Seth called. "Are you injured?"

"He's afraid of the air," Tirsa reminded him quietly.

Now Seth understood. Each member of their party had his nightmare. Tirsa had gotten through her horror of the constriction of the deep earth; now Rame had to handle his air phobia. How was he going to do that? It was evident that they were going to have to go down the cliff, as there seemed to be no other route to the elf village.

"I think I can help him," Seth said. He peered down at the ledge on which his friend lay. "Rame, I know this is difficult for you, but we can handle it. I want you to close your eyes and follow my instructions. As long as you do that, you will not fall. Do you understand?"

Rame shuddered. "Yes," he replied uncertainly.

"Conjure a rope and throw it up to me. You don't need to look; just sit there and throw it at the sound of my voice."

Rame conjured a rope and managed to hurl it up to Seth. "See if you can find a tree, or something to tie the rope to," Seth said quietly to Tirsa. "We're going to need to lower ourselves down; I know how to do it."

Tirsa felt through the fog until she came to a tree that was thick enough to support anything the rope could hold. She looped it and tied a secure knot.

Seth had Rame conjure two more ropes, which Tirsa anchored similarly. Then he made crude harnesses for each of them, fitting them carefully.

"Now that you have me tied again—" Tirsa began.

"Of course not!" he said, flushing. "I only did that to make you angry."

"You did not succeed."

"I had to take your mind off that cave!" he continued defensively. "So you could, what?"

"Now is not the time," she said. "Except, perhaps, for this." She stepped close and kissed him.

Seth stood stunned. Not angry? Then what was in her mind?

But he couldn't afford to dither on this at the moment. They had to get down that cliff.

Seth had Rame conjure six more little ropes, with which they tied loops. As they did so, he instructed Tirsa in what to do. He had rappelled before, and though this was not exactly the same thing, the principle remained. Finally they passed their ropes through the loops on each of their harnesses, and threw the loose ends over the cliff.

"Play your whistle until you are sure each rope reaches the ground," Seth called. The faun did so; in fact he played so long that there was probably extra rope piled up down there.

"Are you ready?" Seth asked Tirsa.

"I defer to your judgment," she said, though she did not look fully confident.

Seth was more than slightly nervous himself, for this was farther than he had ever rappelled before. "Watch me, and do what I do," he said. "I will be below you, and will advise you if you are going wrong."

Cautiously he walked backwards over the edge, holding on to his main rope so that he did not fall, until he was standing perpendicular to the face of the cliff. Tirsa watched him, surprised but understanding. He bounded down lower, then called for Tirsa to come.

He had expected her to hesitate, but she did not. She followed his example exactly, making no errors.

They reached Rame's ledge without complication. Seth gave the faun the harness he had made for him, and threaded the ropes through the loops. "Now keep your eyes closed, and hang on to your rope," Seth told him. "I will be below you, and Tirsa will be above you. We will go down just a little at a time, together. You must stand up, and back off the edge, and walk down it as if it is a level plain—but you are not loose, and you will not be blown away. If you had been tied like this, that storm would never have lifted you. We are all together, and we will talk to you as we go."

Rame did not speak. He only nodded. He remained terrified, but he trusted them, and knew this was the only way to get to safety.

Seth started down again, and waited while Rame followed. "That's it," he called. "Hold on to your rope, keep your footing, let yourself swing out—that's it. Now move your hands down the rope, and take a step backward—yes, that's it. Keep doing that, and stop when you wish to. That's all there is to it."

Tirsa followed. They proceeded down the cliff, picking up speed as the others became more proficient. This cliff was relatively easy to rappel down, because it was not wet or slippery, and there were plenty of grooves and footholds. Seth took a few large bounds, dropping about twenty feet at a hop, but Rame and Tirsa were satisfied to walk it down. This would take more time, but was better for them.

Seth reached the bottom in about fifteen minutes, with Rame and Tirsa reaching it a few minutes later. They unhooked their belts and left the rope alongside the cliff. Seth saw that Rame's eyes were open; somewhere on the way down he must have risked it, and found that the competence of the rappelling system eased his fear. He had, perhaps, conquered his demon, just as Tirsa had conquered hers.

They looked forward, away from the cliff. Now the fires of the elf village were only a short way off. This was where they hoped Vidav could be cured. By mutual consent, they ran toward it.

"Halt!" It was an elf guard with drawn bow. The bow was small, as was the elf, but there was no telling what poison or magic was on the arrow. They stopped.

"We are the Chosen," Rame said. "We have come to—"

"Right this way!" The elf hastily slung his bow over his shoulder and led them into the village. At the central and largest fire stood the captain of the elf guard. "The Chosen are here!" the perimeter guard reported.

"Excellent!" the captain exclaimed. "We have competent quarters ready for you! But why are you so late? We feared something had happened to you."

"Yes," Rame agreed laconically.

"And where is your fourth member?"

"We have him with us. He needs immediate attention by your sorcerer. If you can make him well—"

The captain signaled to another elf. "Rouse the healer!"

In a moment the whiskery healer stumbled up to the fire, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "There is one injured?"

Rame played his reed whistle. Vidav's body appeared.

"Sateon poison!" the healer exclaimed after one look. "But far gone."

"Can you cure him?" Tirsa asked worriedly.

"Yes and no. I can exorcise the bacteria, but he has already suffered damage that will remain. For a complete reversal, it will require stronger magic than I can muster."

"Can you give us a referral?" she asked.

"Yes, of course. But he may refuse to help you."

"Let's do what we can here," Rame said. "Then we will seek the other healer. Who is he?"

"The wizard Rightwos. But it has been long since he practiced, and he can be surly when disturbed."

"We'll risk it," Seth said. "Meanwhile, if you will abolish the bacteria—"

"I have already done so," the healer said. "At least, I have set the process in motion. It will be several days before the last one is driven out."

"Several days!" Tirsa exclaimed. "We had hoped—" But she did not finish, realizing that it was necessary to take whatever time was required. Their mission would just have to wait until Vidav was better.

"I will watch him until the curse is gone," the healer said. "I see that you other Chosen are tired. Go to the quarters we have provided for you; you are safe here."

Suddenly Seth realized how tired he was. They had not truly rested for a day and a night, for their captivity by the witch-women hardly counted, and then it had been in a home-made lean-to in the forest, in a downpour. He was ready to drop.

"But perhaps we should clean up first," Tirsa said.

"If you wish," the elf said, as if it were a minor matter. The elves had been too polite to mention that the three Chosen were so caked with mud that they resembled so many bags of muck dredged from a polluted lake.

There was a pool formed in a loop of a small stream beside the elf village. The three stripped their clothing and waded in. They swam and ducked their heads and splashed until the pool was brown. Then they rinsed out their clothes, and the pool became black. They had to go upstream to find water clean enough to rinse away the dirty water they had made. Then, naked, they walked to the thatched shelter the elves had provided.

Inside were four beds fashioned of spongy dry moss. Seth went to the last one and dropped on it. In an instant he was asleep.

He woke in daylight. Someone had spread a coverlet over him, which was just as well, for he remained naked. He saw Tirsa sitting up, brushing her hair, whose striping had been restored after being lost in the mud.

She saw him, and tossed some material to him. "Tunic," she explained. "We didn't want to continue wearing Empire clothing anyway."

Seth sat up and put the tunic on over his head. He was just about ready to burst. He hoped there was some sort of sanitary facility close by.

"That way," Tirsa said, gesturing toward the back of the tent. Had she read his mind, or had to locate it for herself?

Both.
She wasn't looking at him, but she smiled.

Evidently she had gotten over her anger with him, or whatever it had been. Had she really kissed him, at the top of the cliff? Why?

Because my perception of you has changed. Perhaps we shall have time to discuss the matter, while we wait for Vidav.

He certainly hoped so! He got up and walked in the direction she had indicated.

The elves fed them well, and in the late afternoon Seth and Tirsa took a walk around the region. The territory of the elves was well tended, with efficient little glades cultivated with tubers, grains, fruits, nuts, and herbs. Paths led everywhere, and pretty flowers bordered them throughout. There were no fences, for the elves needed none; each did his task without interfering with the task of any other elf. It was about as nice a region as Seth could remember seeing. There was even a yellow-trunked Sen-Tree standing guard at the border. Seth chatted briefly with it, to Tirsa's amusement.

But they were not really sightseeing. They were talking. "I regret embarrassing you by my description of you, when we first met," Tirsa said. "On my plane, it is no crime to be youthful or to be impetuous. I have had no reason to alter that assessment."

"But you said that your perception had changed!" he said. Actually, she had thought it, but they never referred to their mental contact directly, in speech that any other party might overhear.