Sorcery, of course. Calling Polestar back to us. “I can’t tell you to take such a risk.”
“The journal must not fall into the hands of those behind us. Even if by some chance what I do doesn’t bring them down on us, they would eventually decipher it. It might tell them what we would not.”
Baglos was silent and anxious through all of this, clutching his hands to his breast, his dark eyes flicking from the Prince to me.
As he had on the hillside next to the ruined castle, D’Natheil closed his eyes, made a small movement of his fingers, and whispered the horse’s name. Then he sat down on the trail to wait, drinking from his waterskin and dangling his feet over the stomach-churning drop to the rift floor. I was more comfortable close by the cliff wall and was too unsettled to sit down anyway.
Before very long, the black horse emerged sedately from the shadowed overhang, as if sauntering from the pasture into the stable for his evening oats. As we mounted up to be on our way, D’Natheil’s shoulders sagged.
“Are you well?” I asked.
He shook his head, leaning on the horse for a moment before wearily pulling himself into the saddle. “We’re being followed again.”
Though D’Natheil laid no word of reproach on him, Baglos said very little. He rode stiffly, eyes forward, his volatile emotions for once held close.
As the afternoon sun baked the weeping cliff wall, it was difficult to recall our shivering of the morning. The ascent seemed painfully slow, especially now the enemy was on our trail again.
Late in the afternoon we came to the waterfall, the last steep ascent leveling off into a wide shelf that extended to the very brink of the thundering cascade. I slumped down in the shade, reveling in the cold spray. Baglos, his black hair and beard dusted with the droplets, shouted to be heard above the roar. “What now? Have we come the wrong way? I see no further path.”
“It must be that way,” said D’Natheil, pointing to a rocky chute that led to the cliff tops far above us. The chute was even steeper than the last bit we had just done and was slick with the spray of the falls. In no wise could the horses negotiate it. It would be treacherous enough for human hands and feet.
“Should not the next clue point our way?” asked Baglos. When the wall births the flood, it is wiser to be the rabbit than the fish or the goat. “What could it mean? It seems to fit—at least the part about the wall birthing the flood.”
“I see no choice of directions here,” said D’Natheil. “The divided way must be above us, where we would have the opportunity to cross the river like a fish, or climb again like a goat, or take some other way. The ‘rabbit” way, whatever that is.“
I could not imagine the J’Ettanne using the path up that steep chute. They would have wanted the fortress approaches secure, yes. Secret, yes. Secluded, yes. But not impossible. Examination of the shelf revealed no evidence of a bridge to the other side of the gorge, where there looked to be easier ways up.
Baglos was already fussing about the packs and mumbling to himself about what we would need to carry, and what must be left behind with the horses, and was it not ironic that so soon after bringing on danger by recalling Polestar, we must abandon the beasts and send them back down the path. When he pulled out the journal, I snatched it from his small hand and stuffed it in my pocket. I would not risk losing it again.
Discouraged, I sat by the wall munching a piece of dry bread. D’Natheil sat beside me, his gaze following an eagle that soared on the warm updrafts over the falls. “Perhaps it’s time I went on alone,” he said quietly.
“Don’t you dare—”
“Foolish, I know, to think you’d allow it. You’d throw your horse at me before riding him down that hill, wouldn’t you?”
The nicker of amusement in the Prince’s face rapidly doused my indignation. “Exactly right.”
“I most sincerely do not like dragging you into this… whatever it is that will happen. And not because you are female or incompetent. On the contrary”—his eyes traced the lines of my face—“I think this world would lose much of its richness if you were not a part of it.” He reddened a little and shifted his gaze back to the waterfall.
“Thank you,” I said. A stupid, priggish response, but I could think of none other. I should laugh and dismiss it by teasing him—and teasing myself even more. Only a few weeks had passed since I was trying to decide how to be rid of him. Only days since I had admitted that anything about him sparked feelings beyond annoyance or pity. He changed so rapidly, as if every day the previous day’s persona was sloughed off like an unwanted skin to reveal a new character and manner.
As we sat there, D’Natheil in embarrassment and I in confusion, a rock-mouse scurried from some unseen crevice near the edge of the falls and picked up a crumb that had fallen from my bread. When I shifted my leg to let it come closer, it skittered off to the brink of the falls and disappeared into the spray. I berated myself for my clumsy movement, sure the tiny creature had been swept away in its hasty flight, but in moments it was back, damp but undaunted, searching for another treasure to add to its horde.
“Where did you come from?” I said, as it scuttered back the way it had come. Curious, I crawled toward the curtain of water.
“Have a care, woman,” said Baglos, an anxious edge to his voice.
But I needed no warning. The shelf did not end abruptly at the edge of the falls as it appeared, but extended well past it. As I peered closer, the rock-mouse zipped between my feet and into the shower of droplets. “If you can go there, can we?” Hugging the wall, I stood up and stepped into the spray. Beyond a thin curtain of water was a sheltered overhang, as dry and calm as the eye of a storm. And at the center of the dry niche was a hole in the wall, twice the height of a man and almost as wide. A hole. A rabbit hole.
CHAPTER 32
After all that had happened in my life, how could walking into a hole in a wall be so excruciatingly difficult? Every hardship of our journey paled in comparison to the first step into the cave behind the falls, but I told myself I’d be Evard’s whore before I’d give D’Natheil an excuse to leave me behind. “Have we anything to use for a light?” I asked, taking pride in my matter-of-fact demeanor.
“I think I can provide that,” said the Prince, snugging the ties that held our waterskins to the saddles.
“No, you mustn’t—”
“It makes no difference now. They’re coming, and we’ll be able to go faster.” He peered into the mouth of the cave. “I have no love for darkness.”
I did let D’Natheil go in first. I wasn’t a fool. A pale yellow light took flickering shape from his left hand, and then settled into a steady white glow. I took a deep breath and stepped through the opening after him. There’s plenty of air, I told myself. Plenty of room. Annadis preserve D’Natheil and his light. I was not in the habit of invoking the Twin who controlled fire and lightning with his sword, but if he was interested, I would not turn down his help.
We had to lead our horses, as the ceiling soon became too low for riding. Baglos, who had been unusually quiet since the near disasters of the day, followed Firethorn. The path tilted slightly upwards, and the damp walls and floors were worn smooth by uncounted years of flowing water. The rumble of the waterfall was deadened by the mountain’s foundation, soon fading away into heavy silence, broken only by the ring of hooves on stone. Occasionally we walked past pockets of cooler air, unrelieved blackness where the soft light made no inroads. I tried not to look at them; they made my chest hurt.
Rather I focused my eyes on D’Natheil’s light, wondering what was the source of the radiance—fingers, palm? Anything to take my mind off of the oppressive stone, and its associated images of tombs… dungeons… Xerema collapsing around its people after the earthquake. I tried to start a conversation with Baglos, but the three of us were separated by the bulk of the horses. And whenever I managed to get the Prince’s attention, his light would fade. So I stayed quiet. How far could it be to travel under a mountain? Keep breathing, Seri. There’s plenty of air.