“It is a small and narrow tunnel,” said Korahna, “and you will have to crawl. But it leads under the wall and outside the city. From there, you are on your own.”
“Then we will say farewell again,” said Sorak, giving her a hug. “We owe our lives to you. And to you, as well, friend,” he said to the thief, holding out his hand.
Instead of taking it, the thief bowed deeply. “It was privilege, my lord. I hope that one day, soon, we shall meet again.”
“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “And do not call me ‘my lord!’”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Aaah!” said Sorak, throwing up his arms.
The old man opened the trapdoor.
“Hurry,” said Korahna. “The longer we remain here, the greater the risk.”
Sorak took her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he said.
“Go on! Hurry!”
He climbed down into the tunnel.
“Farewell again, Sister,” said Ryana. “I shall miss you.”
“And I, you.”
They embraced briefly, and then Ryana followed Sorak down into the hole. The door was closed behind them, and she was plunged into total darkness. She reached out with her hands in front of her and fell a small opening, barely wide enough to crawl through.
“Sorak?”
“Come on,” he called back, from inside the tunnel. “But keep your head down.”
She squirmed into the opening and started crawling on her hands and knees. She couldn’t see a thing. She felt incredibly closed in and wondered what would happen if the runnel collapsed on them. She swallowed hard and kept on crawling. The thought occurred to her that it seemed like a perfect place for snakes and venomous spiders. Why did that have to occur to her now? She was grateful that Sorak was crawling up ahead, because that meant if there were any spiderwebs inside the tunnel, he would break them before she crawled into them headfirst. It was not, perhaps, a very considerate attitude, she thought, but at least it was an honest one.
After what seemed like an incredibly long time, she finally felt the tunnel sloping up slightly. And then she reached the end of it. She found out because she ran into the wall headfirst. With a curse, she pulled back and rubbed her head, then felt around her. A shaft was open above. She crouched, then stood, and felt wooden rungs in front of her. She climbed up perhaps a dozen feet or so and then felt Sorak’s hand close around her wrist, helping her out. She breathed in the welcome, cool, night air and felt a soft breeze blowing. They stood in a thicket by what she first thought was a stream, then realized was an irrigation canal. They were about thirty or forty feet beyond the city wall. The distance she had crawled had somehow seemed much longer.
“I hate tunnels,” she said, brushing the dirt off her clothing before realizing that there wasn’t much point to it. After all that they had been through, her clothes were filthy and torn in places. Sorak did not look much better. In fact, he looked even worse. There was dried blood caked all over him, covered with a layer of grime.
“Don’t stare,” he said. “You do not look much better.”
They stood in a grove of agafari trees, sheltered from view. Ryana unslung her crossbow and unbuckled her sword belt, dropped her pack to the ground, and waded into the canal. It felt wonderful to let the cold water caress her face.
“Well?” she said. “Are you coming in, or do you intend to spend the rest of our journey looking like a corpse?”
He grinned, took off his sword belt and his pack, then waded in beside her. The water came up to their chests and they both submerged themselves, then scrubbed their faces and their clothes.
“It would be just our luck to be caught here, bathing, after all that we have been through,” said Ryana.
“I would not tempt fate if I were you,” said Sorak.
“Yes, my lord.”
He splashed her. “Stop that.”
“Yes, my lord.” She splashed him back. Suddenly, they were laughing and splashing each other as they had not done since they were both small children, playing in the pool by the temple. After a short while, they climbed out and rested for a moment on the bank, the water dripping from them.
“That felt good,” she said, staring up into the trees.
“Enjoy the feeling,” Sorak replied. “It is the last water we shall see until we reach the Mekillot Mountains.”
She sighed. “I suppose we had best be on our way and put as much distance between us and the city as possible while it is still dark.”
Sorak got to his feet and buckled on his sword belt.
“If it were not for the fact that I have no other sword, I would be sorely tempted to toss this one into the canal.”
“That would be a fine way to treat a gift from the high mistress,” said Ryana, shouldering her pack.
He drew the blade and looked at it. “The sword of elven kings,” he said dryly, then sighed. ” Whay does it fall to me?”
“You should be grateful,” said Ryana. “It has saved our lives.”
“And placed them in jeopardy, in the first place.”
Sorak replied wryly. He sheathed the blade. “Still, it is a fine and wondrous blade.”
“And we shall yet have need of it,” Ryana said. They started walking, heading through the grove of trees and keeping under their protective cover as long as possible.
“It feels rather strange not to have Korahna along,” said Sorak as they walked. “I had grown rather fond of her.”
Ryana nodded. “As did I. At first, I disliked her, but she proved to be much more than what her appearance had suggested. Do you think she will be safe?”
“No,” said Sorak. “And I do not think she would have it any other way.”
Ryana smiled. “At least she will have a chance to get some rest,” she said. “Every muscle in my body feels tired and sore.”
“We will try to find a sheltered place to rest a while shortly after daybreak,” Sorak said. “We have a long walk ahead of us.”
“I don’t suppose Screech could scare up a kank?”
“In the Ivory Plain? I would not count on it. And it is doubtful we shall find wild kanks this close to the city. No, I am afraid we have no choice but to go on foot.”
“Do you think they will pursue us?”
“Perhaps,” said Sorak. “But I suspect they will think we have found shelter with the Veiled Alliance. They will search the city for us first. By the time it occurs to them that we have fled beyond the walls, we will be long gone.”
They soon reached the end of the grove, beyond which acres of cultivated rice fields spread out before them. They waded through the irrigated fields, past darkened, outlying estates, both of them feeling too tired to do much talking. Soon, they reached ground that was more sparsely covered with vegetation. The ground was sloping slightly, and Ryana knew that it would not be long before they reached the desert once again. They had filled their water skins back at the canal, but she knew she would have to make the water last as long as possible. And chances were it would not be long enough. By daybreak, they had reached a ridge and stopped to rest among the rocks. As the sun came up, she looked out over the ridge and saw, in the distance, a vast expanse of white land, gleaming in the morning sun.
“The Great Ivory Plain,” said Sorak.
Far in the distance, Ryana could see the outline of the Mekillot Mountains, their next destination. “Well,” she said with an air of resignation, “I had always wanted to go on a long pilgrimage.” She sighed. “However, this is not quite what I had in mind.”
There was no reply from Sorak. She turned to find him stretched out on the ground in the shadow of the rocks, fast asleep. This time, the Ranger did not come out, nor did any of the others. Their body’s wariness had finally caught up with them.