“1 smell fresh air,” he said, and he wrinkled his nose. “Well, maybe not fresh air, but at least it smells like air that’s outside, not inside.”
“So what?” Tika returned in muffled tones.
“You told Caramon we were going to find the way out. I think we have. Let’s go see!”
“I didn’t mean a way out,” said Tika, sighing. “I meant a way out—of this stupid situation.”
“But if we did find a way out that was better than the way in, then you could tell Caramon and he could tell Raistlin and he wouldn’t be mad at us anymore. We’d be making ourselves useful.” Tika lifted her head. That was true. If they proved they could be useful, Raistlin couldn’t stay mad at them. Caramon would be glad that she’d come. She sniffed the air. At first, all she could smell was the musty, dank smell of some place that has been deep underground for a long, long time. Then she knew what Tas meant. The whiff of air was damp and tinged with decay, but at least, as Tas said, it smelled different from the air trapped down here.
“I think it’s coming from up there,” Tika said, peering up overhead. “I can’t see. Hold the torch higher.”
Tas climbed nimbly on top of the fallen column, and from there clamored onto another part of the fallen column that lay on the column beneath it. He now stood head and shoulders above Tika. He held his torch as high as he could, stretching his arm nearly out of the socket. The light revealed the underside of a rickety-looking cat walk constructed of iron.
“The fresh air smell is definitely coming from up there,” Tas announced, though, in truth, he couldn’t really tell much difference. He wanted to take Tika’s mind off her troubles. “Maybe if we climbed onto that cat walk, we’d find a door or something. Do you have any rope?”
“You know perfectly well I don’t have any rope,” returned Tika, and she sighed again. “It’s hopeless.”
“No, it’s not!” Tas cried. He peered overhead, twisting his neck to see. “I think that if you stood on this column then hoisted me onto your shoulders, I could reach the bottom of the cat walk. You know what I mean?” He looked back at Tika. “Like those tumblers we saw at the faire last year. There was the guy who tied himself in a knot and—”
“We’re not tumblers,” Tika pointed out. “We’d likely break our necks.”
“You were just saying you wanted to break your neck,” Tas said. “Come on, Tika, we can at least try!”
Tika shook her head.
Tas shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to go back and tell Caramon we failed.” Tika mulled things over. “Do you really think we could do it?”
“Of course, we can!” Tas balanced the torch on the rock, carefully, so as not to put it out. “You stand here. Brace your feet. Hold very still. I’m going to climb up your back onto your shoulders. Oops, wait! You should take off your sword…”
Tika unbuckled her sword belt and set it down on the rock beside the torch. She and Tas tried several different ways of hoisting the kender onto her shoulders, but climbing a person turned out not to be as easy as the tumblers had made it look. After a few failed attempts, Tas finally figured out how to do it.
“Fortunately you’ve got big hips,” he told Tika.
“Thanks a bunch,” she said bitterly.
Planting one foot on her hip, Tas hoisted himself up. He put his other foot on her shoulder, brought up his other foot, then he had both feet on both of Tika’s shoulders. Slowly, teetering a little, keeping his hands on the top of Tika’s head, he straightened.
“I didn’t think you were this heavy!” Tika gasped. “You’d better… hurry!”
“Hold onto my ankles!” Tas instructed. He reached up and grasped two of the iron railings. “You can let loose now!”
Tas swung his right leg up, trying to connect with the balcony. After two tries, he finally made it. He slid one leg through the railings then didn’t know what to do with the other leg. He hung there for a moment in an extremely awkward, uncomfortable, and precarious position. Tika, looking up, put her hands over her mouth, terrified Tas would fall.
Fortunately he came from a long line of kender who climbed up onto balconies or shinnied out onto ledges or walked the ridgepoles of roofs. A wriggle, a few grunts, a readjustment of his leg so that he wasn’t about to dislocate a hip, another wriggle and a squeeze, and he was through the iron railings and lying flat on his stomach on the cat walk.
“You did it!” Tika cried, impressed. “What’s up there? Is there a way out?” She could hear Tas rummaging around in the dark, but she couldn’t see what he was doing. Once he seemed to trip over something, for he said, “Ouch!” in irritated tones. Then he came back, leaned over the edge of the rail, and called down, “Say, Tika, why do you suppose they call it a cat walk? Do cats walk on these things a lot?”
“How should I know? What difference does that make?” she returned irritably.
“I was just wondering. I think it’s because they have nine lives.” Before Tika could point out that this made no sense, Tas added “There’s lots of rope up here, coils and coils of it, and some torches and a sack that has something squishy inside that smells bad. I’ll keep looking.” He was off again. Tika picked up the torch and looked around nervously, not liking being left alone. Then she reflected she wasn’t truly alone. Caramon was not far away. He would come if she called.
Tas came back. “I found it! There’s a hole in the ceiling that I think leads up into a shaft that I’m pretty sure goes outside. I’ll bet we could climb up the shaft. Do you want to try?”
“Yes,” Tika said, thinking that wherever the shaft led was better than where she was now. Anything was better than going back to Caramon and his brother. “How do I get up onto the cat walk?”
“I’ll send down some rope. Hold that torch where I can see what I’m doing.” Tika raised the torch. Working by its flickering light, Tas tied one end of the rope to an iron railing. He tugged on it to make sure it was good and tight, then he flung the rope down to Tika.
“You’d better douse the torch,” he advised, “so no draconians come after us. I’ll light one up here.”
Tika extinguished the light then took hold of the rope and began to pull herself up, hand over hand. She’d been quite adept at rope climbing when she was a girl; the children of the tree-top town of Solace could clamor up and down ropes like spiders. She hadn’t done much rope climbing since those days, but the skill came back to her.
“You have strong arms,” Tas remarked admiringly.
“And big hips,” Tika muttered. She pulled herself up and over the railing.
“The air shaft’s over here.” Tas and his torch led the way to a wide hole in the ceiling. Though Tika couldn’t see sunlight, she could feel and smell the fresh air flowing down from above, gently brushing her face. She drew in a deep breath.
“This is definitely the way out,” she said.
“I think it’s also the way in,” said Tas. “The draconians used this route to enter the fortress. You can tell because they left their stuff lying around.”
“That means they’ll be back to collect it!” Tika said, alarmed.
“Any minute now probably,” said Tas in cheerful tones, “so if we’re going to explore the shaft, we should do it pretty quickly.”
“What if there are draconian guards inside there?” Tika faltered.
Tas peered up the shaft, his face screwed up into thought wrinkles.
“I don’t think so,” he said at last. “If the draconians had gone back up the shaft, they would have taken their stuff with them. No. They’re somewhere else. Probably exploring the ruins down below.”
“Then let’s go up there,” said Tika, shivering at the thought.
The two climbed a pile of rubble that lay beneath the shaft and from there into the shaft itself. Dim gray light filtered down from above, so they could leave the torch behind. The shaft did not go straight up, like a chimney, but sloped gradually, and the climb was an easy one. The breeze wafting down the shaft grew stronger and colder, and they soon came in sight of heavy gray clouds that looked so close it seemed they could grab a handful. The opening was a large oval hole in the rock; the edges glistened wetly in the gray light.