I must find a way to go on alone, she thought one time more. I must do so soon.
Tunnels came and went, and the climb wore on. The air within the sewers had grown steadily warmer with the passing of the day, and beneath their cloaks and tunics the members of the little company were sweating freely. A kind of peculiar mist had begun to filter down through the corridors, clinging and grimy, filled with the sewer’s smell. They brushed at it distastefully, but it drifted after them, closed about them, and would not be moved away. It grew thicker as the climb progressed, and soon they were having difficulty seeing further than a dozen feet ahead.
Then abruptly the mist and gloom cleared before them, and they stood upon a shelf of rock that overlooked an immense chasm. Down into the mountain’s core the chasm dropped, disappearing into utter blackness. The members of the little company glanced uneasily at one another. To their right, the passageway curved upward into the rock, following the trench that carried the sewage from the Mord Wraith citadel. To their left, the passageway ran downward a short distance to a slender stone bridge barely a yard in width that arched across the chasm to a darkened tunnel that bore into the far cliff face.
«Which way now?» Rone muttered softly, almost as if asking himself.
Left, Brin thought at once. Left, across the chasm. She did not understand why, yet she knew instinctively that this was the path she must choose.
«The sewers are the way.» Cogline was looking at her. «That’s what the Grimpond said, wasn’t it, girl?»
Brin found herself unable to speak. «Brin?» Kimber called to her softly.
«Yes,” she replied finally. «Yes, that is the way.»
They turned right along the shelf, following it up along the sewage channel, trudging back again into the blackness. Brin’s mind raced. This isn’t the way, she thought. Why did I say it was? She took a sudden gulp of air, forcing her thoughts to slow. What she sought was back the way they had come, back across the stone bridge. The Maelmord was back that way — she could sense it. Why, then, had she… ?
She caught herself roughly, the question answered almost as quickly as it was asked. Because this was where she would leave them, of course. This was the opportunity that she had looked for since Olden Moor. This was how it must be. The wishsong would aid her — a small deceit, a little lie. She sucked in her breath sharply at the thought. Even though it would betray their trust in her, she must do it.
Softly, gently, she began to hum, building the wishsong a stone at a time into a wall of non–seeing, creating in her place and in the minds of her companions an image of herself. Then abruptly she stepped away from her own ghost, flattened herself against the stone wall of the passageway, and watched the others walk past.
The illusion would only last a few minutes, she knew. She sped back down the sewer tunnel, following the cut and weave of the rock. The sound of her breathing was ragged in her ears. She reached the shelf, hastened to where it narrowed, and turned onto the stone bridge. The chasm yawned blackly before her. A step at a time, she inched out onto the bridge, picking her pathway across. There was silence in the gloom and mist that swirled about, yet she felt somehow that she was not alone. Her mind hardened against the brief surge of fear and doubt, and she withdrew deep into herself, passionless and cold. Nothing could be allowed to touch her.
At last she was across the bridge. She stood within the entrance to this new tunnel for a moment and let the feeling return. A brief thought of Rone and the others passed through her mind and disappeared. She had used the wishsong against them now as well, she thought bitterly. And though it might have been necessary, it hurt her deeply to have done so.
Then she wheeled abruptly toward the stone bridge, pitched the wishsong to a quick, hard shriek and sang. The sound echoed in fury through the black, and the bridge exploded into fragments and dropped away into the chasm.
Now there could be no going back.
She turned into the tunnel and disappeared.
The sound of the shriek penetrated up into the sewer tunnel where the others of the little company still picked their way through the gloom.
«Shades! What was that?» Rone cried.
There was a moment’s silence as the echo died away. «Brin — it was Brin,” Kimber whispered in reply.
Rone stared. No, Brin was right next to him…
Abruptly, the image the Valegirl had created in their minds faded into nothingness. Cogline swore softly and stamped his foot.
«What has she done… ?» the highlander stammered in confusion, unable to finish the thought.
Kimber was at his side, her, face intense. «She has done what she has wanted to do from the beginning, I think. She has left us and gone on alone. She said before that she did not want any of us to go with her; now she has made certain that we do not.»
«For cat’s sake!» Rone was appalled. «Doesn’t she understand how dangerous… ?»
«She understands everything,” the girl cut him short, pushing past him down the tunnel’s passage. «I should have realized before that she would do this. We must hurry if we are to catch up with her. Whisper, track!»
The big moor cat leaped ahead effortlessly, gliding back down the sewer tunnel into the shadows. The three humans hurried after, slipping and stumbling through the mist and gloom. Rone Leah was angry and frightened at the same time. Why would Brin do this? He did not understand.
Then abruptly they were back upon the stone shelf, staring out across the chasm to where the bridge fell away into the dark, broken at its center.
«There, you see, she’s used the magic!» Cogline snapped.
Wordlessly, Rone hurried forward, stepping out onto the jagged remnant of the bridge. Twenty feet away, the other end jutted from the cliff face. He could make that jump, he thought suddenly. It was a long way over, but he could make it. At least he must try…
«No, Rone Leah,” Kimber pulled him back from the precipice, reading at once his intentions. Her grip on his arm was surprisingly strong. «You must not be foolish. You cannot jump so far.»
«I can’t leave her again,” he insisted stubbornly. «Not again.»
The girl nodded solemnly. «I care for her, too.» She turned. «Whisper!» The moor cat padded up to her, whiskered face rubbing her own. Softly she spoke. to the cat, stroking him behind his ears. Then she stepped away. «Track, Whisper!» she commanded.
Wheeling, the moor cat darted onto the bridge, gathered himself and sprang into the air. He cleared the chasm effortlessly, landed on the far end of the shattered bridge, and disappeared into the darkened tunnel beyond.
There was concern reflected in Kimber Boh’s young face. She had not wanted to separate herself from the cat, but Brin might have greater need of him than she, and the Valegirl was her friend. «Guard well,” she whispered after.
Then she looked back again at Rone. «Now let us also try to find a way to reach Brin Ohmsford.»