With stakes as high as they were, he was not about to leave Moulokin until he knew the truth of what had happened to their quarry.
XV
ENOUGH DAYS PASSED FILLED with the same rolling gravelly ground and spare vegetation to make Ethan wish for a spirit or two to liven up the journey. Their sole excitement was provided by a two-meter-wide crevasse that ran east and west as far as chiv-sore scouting parties could determine. Numerous methods for traversing the obstacle were proposed. One mate suggested removing the duralloy runners from where they had been secured to the deck and using them to bridge the gap.
For a change it was Ta-hoding who provided the solution. Though he had only modest confidence in himself, he’d come to feel boundless enthusiasm for his new command. Despite Ethan and Hunnar’s apprehension he ordered all unnecessary personnel off the raft. The Slanderscree sailed in a wide circle and bore—down on the crevasse with all sail flying, wind directly behind it.
At the last instant, spars and sails were aligned to obtain as much upward lift as possible. Like some obese bird the front end of the enormous raft rose skyward. Only the two fore axles completely cleared the gap before the bow began to settle surfaceward again, but it was enough. Mass and velocity were sufficient to carry the entire ship across the narrow abyss, though the rear axle and wheels dipped dangerously inward.
Ta-hoding explained that they carried spare axles and, in the event that his ploy had failed, could still repair any damage. The threat of being halted in this chill, moody land was sufficient to inspire even the cautious captain to daring.
They reached the edge of the plateau the following day. The longing of the sailors for the boundless ice ocean out of reach two hundred meters below was evident to all the mates and officers. They felt the ice-pull themselves.
Continuing southward, the icerigger raced parallel to the sheer cliffs. Barren terrain continued to unravel from an infinite brown thread to port, gleaming ice and blue sky above shining daily off to starboard.
Ta-hoding and his crew had grown so skillful in their handling of the ship that Ethan no longer worried or turned away when they hove unnecessarily near to the breathtaking drop. All this activity kept the crew from succumbing to the worst kind of mental fatigue: the kind induced by unrelieved boredom.
“I’m beginnin’ to worry a bit, young feller-me-lad.” September clung to a yard nearby, his face showing disappointment beneath the transparent mask. “Hunnar and the others are starting to feel likewise, and with reason. We haven’t come near findin’ another canyon resembling Moulokin’s. It just don’t make sense, lad.” His tone was tense but quiet. “That there’d be just a single canyon of that type cuttin’ into this continent, I mean. Got to be others.”
“I’m no geologist, Skua, but I admit it seems peculiar to me, too.”
September made a face, an expression centering whirlpool-like on that sharp, hooked beak of a nose. “If we do have to circle back the way we’ve come, it’s a good bet the Poyos will’ve completed their inspection of Moulokin and, not finding us there, gone off elsewhere after us.” He brightened somewhat at the thought.
“At this point that just might be our best course. Think I’ll go have a chat with the captain and Sir Hunnar. Stay sane, lad.” He started to head sternward, halted as Ethan gestured toward the bow.
“We may not have any choice tomorrow, Skua.”
The steep hills that had marked the north and eastern horizons since they’d emerged from the land of the Golden Saia were growing closer, curving around ahead of them and threatening to cut off easy progress to the south. That left them only the path behind.
The slopes ahead looked more precipitous than the ones they’d been running alongside for many days. Signs of erosion, indicating possibly unstable hillsides and talus falls, were becoming visible. They would almost certainly have to turn back unless a clear pass could be found through these new obstacles. The Slanderscree had proven herself landworthy, but she could not climb much of an incline.
As Ethan predicted, they reached the first of the low but steep-sided hills that evening. They decided to make a semi-permanent camp in the sheltering lee of the tallest minimount. Scouts would be sent out on the morrow in wheeled lifeboats to try and find a passage to the west that the icerigger could negotiate. Both scout groups would be gone a maximum of five days. In that time, the crew would busy themselves with making minor but bothersome and necessary repairs to the ship, and try to keep busy until the scouts returned.
Sinahnvor was patrolling his foredeck position, cold in the near cloudless night, when something flickering on the hillside caught his eye. He blinked double lids, but the flickering remained. It looked like a fat eye winking in the night.
Fortunately Sinahnvor was not particularly imaginative. Nevertheless he shivered with something other than cold. Who would be off the ship this time of no-light? There’d been rumors of one of the humans and the Landgrave’s daughter, but such tales propelled more rafts than did the winds.
The watchman lifted his oil lamp slightly higher, extending the pole to which it was slung over the side of the raft. It was his imagination after all—no, there it was again! A definite intermittent gleam part way up the steep slope, no higher than the topmost spar of the foremast.
Rumors of a less amusing kind filtered through his brain. If this were truly a land of spirits, might that not be some nightwraith come to snatch him from the deck? And who would know the manner or time of his abduction?
It made him glance around anxiously. The two moons were high aloft, an indication that it was nearer morning than eve-time. He saw no movement anywhere. Would his relief find only lamp pole, clothing, and weapons? Surely a spirit would be interested only in his body.
Monont should be on center deck watch now. He could remain silent and confront that mysterious glint, waiting for his soul to mayhap be stolen out his mouth, or he could seek the comfort of a comrade’s company. Lamp pole swinging, he descended from the bowsprit to the deck and moved past the fore cabins.
“Clean ice and wind on your neck,” came a husky voice in the darkness. Sinahnvor swung his pole around. It lit the face of a curious Tran.
“What are you doing away from your post, Sinahnvor?” asked Monont, concerned. “Should the night-mate catch you, he could make you—”
“Be silent, Monont!” Sinahnvor whispered hastily. “There is an eye in the mountain!”
The other lookout studied his colleague carefully. “You have been chewing too much bui extract.”
There was conviction in Sinahnvor’s voice, however. “As you doubt me, come and see for yourself.”
“I should not leave my post.”
“Who is to know? The night-mate will not appeal until watch-change time, and our nearest enemies are at least a hundred satch behind us.”
“That is true. I will come, but only for a moment. Foolishness,” Monont muttered as he followed the other sentry to the foredeck.
Motioning his companion to silence, Sinahnvor extended his light pole over the railing, moved it about slowly as he searched the mountainside. For several seconds there was no sign of the shining and he was more afraid of the story Monont would tell the others come the morn than he was of any spirit they might arouse. But then the spark showed once more, unmistakably. It remained as steady as the lamp pole. “See? Did I not tell you?”