Instead, Firekeeper got the rope over the beam with her first try. The rope hung over the beam, and with a few jumps, Firekeeper grasped the arrow and pulled the end down where she could reach it. Then she secured the rope to the beam, holding her breath while she did so. This was the critical point. The vines could more easily bear weight than they could take further twisting, but still they might break. To her great relief, they held.
"Watch lest my climbing makes something fall," she warned.
"Firekeeper," Blind Seer said, "make good your boast."
Climbing rope was not like climbing trees or rocks, but the fight to take Smuggler's Light had taught Firekeeper a few things. She climbed mostly with the strength in her arms, using her feet when necessary. Her shoulders ached where they had struck the ground in her fall, protesting this continued hard use, but she ignored them.
As it took her weight, the beam creaked. Dirt pattered around the edges into the cellar. She heard one of the wolves sneeze.
Then she was at the top and must switch her grip from rope to beam. Firekeeper thought about climbing on top of the beam and walking along it, but dreaded that the jolt as her weight landed on top might cause the old wood to crack. Instead, laboriously, hand over hand, she made her way along the length.
Beneath her fingers the beam was rough and splintery in some places, slippery with rot in others, but Firekeeper maintained her grip. She could feel the hot breath of the wolves as they paced her from below, but could not spare the breath to warn them away. When at last she reached the edge, she saw the beam was set into mortar. It looked secure, so she heaved herself up and onto the solid ground above. Little crumbs of greyish stone trickled down, but the old wood held.
A slide of dirt and bits of stone followed the impact of her landing, but the wolves were prepared for the possibility and took no worse injury than a patina of dirt on their fur. She heard further sneezing.
Firekeeper stood, careful to keep back from that treacherous edge, and heard the wolves howl their pleasure when they saw her rise.
"Bravely done," Dark Death said. "Now that you are up, what plans have you for us?"
Firekeeper shook the dirt from herself and dabbed at a few scrapes on her mostly unprotected skin. Her shirt and much of her trousers had gone for kindling, bandages, and wash rags.
"Remember what I told you of stairs and ladders?" she replied. "I will make you such. We will test where the edge is sound and you will come up that way. First, though, I think I will hunt for you. Even strong wolves need food if they are to mend."
Her fish trap yielded several slim silvery fish, each as long as her forearm. Firekeeper kept one for herself, then tossed the others down, making sure one landed near Blind Seer. She was pleased to see that—contrary to usual wolfish manners—neither Moon Frost nor Dark Death crowded him out of his meal.
Of course, they know he is my pack mate, and they need me to get them out of that hole.
Firekeeper kindled herself a small fire and set her chosen fish to cook above it.
Howling wolves and strange vibrations in the earth had made the rabbits skittish, but nonetheless Firekeeper set snares. A yearling buck, uneducated as to the reach of a long bow, proved less cautious than the rabbits and Firekeeper was able to kill it with two well-placed arrows. Venison was better food for wolves, and adequately fed, they settled to wait for her to tell them what to do.
This is a good thing about wolves, Firekeeper thought. Humans would worry and fuss, ask many questions, and waste my time with the need to answer them.
But she couldn't help but think that perhaps just such human worrying had been what created ladders, staircases, and the other tools she was coming to appreciate.
There is something to be said for both ways. Perhaps Blind Seer is right and there is some value even in things that seem useless.
After finishing her fish, several handfuls of watercress, and a rather tart apple, Firekeeper went back to the problem of how to get the wolves out of the cellar. First she established which edge was most stable. This done, she used a length of vine to measure the depth she needed to bridge.
Dark Death gripped it in his teeth, saving her the need to weight it, and cooperatively moving back and forth so Firekeeper could judge the added distance needed to deal with angles, since the wolves could not be expected to climb straight up. Blind Seer had managed in the tunnels beneath Thendulla Lypella, but Moon Frost's foreleg was broken and Dark Death had never even seen a ladder in use. Had Blind Seer not been injured, he might have demonstrated, but Firekeeper was leaving nothing to chance.
A stairway would have been best, but Firekeeper knew that it would take days to haul rocks of large enough size to be of use. Then, too, she was not sure she could build a staircase. She tried a few in miniature, but they did not seem stable.
A ladder, then, must answer. She had saved the hide and sinews from the yearling buck so there would be no need to fuss with brittle vines. Her camping gear included a small but very solid hatchet. She'd already learned the usefulness of axes, but had never had one of her one. During this venture she had come to love the hatchet almost as much as she did her Fang.
The wolves remained patient as she cut and trimmed two solid young trees for the side supports, then made the rungs from thick sections of branch on which she left the bark for better traction. It was a very long process, made more so by several false starts before Firekeeper worked out the best ways to tie things together.
She resolved to make a better study of tying knots. Hadn't the sailors aboard Fayonejunjal always been tying things together? Perhaps if she could keep her stomach from troubling her, she could learn from them.
By midafternoon, the rabbits had grown less cautious and Firekeeper found several in her snares. All but one she tossed down to the wolves, and once again neither of the others denied Blind Seer his share. The blue-eyed wolf showed signs of recovery, and when Firekeeper at last completed the ladder, he volunteered to test it.
"Let me see if it bears my weight, first," Firekeeper said. "Then we will see about the rest of you."
As before, everyone stood back from the edge while she placed the ladder, but the earth seemed to have stabilized and only token bits fell. Firekeeper clambered down the ladder, noting where the rungs needed tightening. After she had done so, she ran up and down it a few times until it did not shift in the least.
Blind Seer shouldered her back.
"Now it is my time," he said. "I have climbed these before."
Firekeeper braced the base of the ladder as Blind Seer went up. He moved steadily, but to she who knew him there was a trace of hesitation on a few steps. After he was up, there was no stopping the others from trying. Dark Death made a few false starts before understanding how he must balance, but with her broken foreleg Moon Frost could not manage.
"I can tuck it beneath me on the flat," she said, "but here I fall to the side."
"I have thought on this," Firekeeper said. "I must carry you to the top. I will need my arms, so you must drape yourself over my back and let my arms and legs serve as your own. We will bind your leg so that it will not be jarred."
She made this suggestion calmly enough and hoped her scent would not give away her fear. After all, not so long ago Moon Frost had tried to kill her. It seemed that Moon Frost, too, thought of their battle, but in a different way.
"I understand. I will ride your back as you rode mine. It will be awkward, but I have seen how strong you are."
Firekeeper had been long enough among humans that she was astonished by the wolf's trust, but after a moment she accepted it. In the wolf way the beaten one knew her place. Someday Moon Frost might challenge Firekeeper again, but not here and not now.
Indeed, that I help her when she is injured makes me even more her senior. I had forgotten. The strong assist the weak, not the weak the strong.
Even with Moon Frost cooperating as best she could, the climb was arduous. Firekeeper's shoulder throbbed and every bruise in
her body shouted its complaint. Moreover, wolves grow hot when they are frightened and Moon Frost could not have helped being afraid, especially since the movement had to hurt her broken leg. She panted alongside Firekeeper's face as the wolf-woman carried her upward, and Firekeeper thought she would smother in the hot moist air.
As she climbed, the wolf-woman paused to rest several times. Just as she was thinking she could not do more, that they must find another way, the weight across her back grew less. At first Firekeeper thought Moon Frost was losing her hold. Then she realized that the wolf was sliding upward. It was a strange sensation, but Firekeeper held herself steady and when Moon Frost's tail dragged over her head, she looked up.
Dark Death was looking down, panting laughter.
"I dragged her by the scruff of her neck as a mother does a puppy. She weighs a bit more, but we got her up without harming her."
Firekeeper mounted to the top of the ladder and punched Dark Death in the shoulder.
"Clever," she said. "Now cool water for me. When does your tide lower enough for us to swim across?"
"Later tonight," Dark Death said. "Rest this afternoon. I will hunt for all of you."
"Stay away from the ruins," Firekeeper said. "I don't know if I'm up to getting anyone else out of a pit."
"Of course you are," Dark Death said, wagging his tail in admiration. "You know how to build ladders."
Chapter XXVI
Waln had feared that a dose of freedom would diminish Tedgewinn's enthusiasm for his plan to raid a ruin or two on Misheemnekuru and then return home in triumph. Nor was he comforted when he learned that both Tedgewinn and Wiatt were making inquiries into the possibilities of doing business with the Liglimom.
Relief came when Waln realized that Tedgewinn and Wiatt were looking into business opportunities not because they didn't plan to go home but precisely because they did. They wanted to return to Liglim with ships loaded with goods that would sell. Wiatt was even toying with the idea of an inn that would provide northern-style meals and comforts for what he thought would be a steady stream of business.
"And once I get it running well," Wiatt said, daydreaming aloud, "I can go home during the worst of these summers and come back in time to spend the winter here."
For Waln, whose dreams included an order of knighthood, his title restored, and his wife and daughters waiting on the queen, inns and curios seemed small beer, but he was glad enough to encourage such if it kept the sailors working with him. Then Shivadtmon came with an interesting rumor.
"There is talk a ship is being outfitted to take you people back north before the worst of winter," he said.
"How certain is this rumor?" Waln asked. Shivadtmon gave a quietly superior smile.
"So certain that I should not call it rumor. You know how closely our temple is associated with the sea. Who else would be asked if the omens favor such a venture? Then, too, we own several of the best vessels. Fayonejunjal is partly owned by our temple."
"I didn't know that," Waln said, feeling that he had been given another piece of the puzzle.
He had always wondered why Shivadtmon so strongly disliked Harjeedian. Now he realized that Shivadtmon—and indeed all his temple—must have been offended at having an aridisdu of the Temple of the Cold Bloods chosen over one of their number to serve aboard Fayonejunjal.
"It is so," Shivadtmon said smugly. "We have many good shipbuilders among us."
"So a ship is actually being outfitted?" Waln asked. "Are we being sent home?"
Shivadtmon shook his head. "The matter is not that settled. However, there are those who think that your return to your homelands would be a good thing. To make these content, the ship is being readied, so if a decision is reached there will be less delay in taking action."
"Wise, wise," Waln mused aloud. "The heart of winter is a nasty time for sailing, as is early spring. If a ship wasn't ready, we might be forced to remain until later spring."
Waln couldn't believe his luck. He was almost inclined to believe in the deities. One of the weak spots in his plan had been exactly how they would acquire the necessary vessel to carry them home. The Liglimom had ample fishing vessels, and Waln had thought he would need to beg, buy, or steal one of these. Indeed, he had already taken to walking the docks in the evening so he might inspect the ships as they came in.
If a ship is being readied for the purpose of taking us home, Waln thought, we'll hardly even be stealing it. I must find out who the crew members are to be. Certainly some of them will be those who have made the voyage before. I can sway them to serve under me—especially if I have wealth with which I can pay them.
Aloud, Waln said, "I wonder who the disdu for the voyage will be? Have you thought of asking for the post? I would so enjoy having the opportunity to show you my homeland as you have shown me yours."
Shivadtmon smiled a tight-lipped smile.
"I have offered my services," he said, "but the iaridisdu of my temple reminded me that the voyage is far from a certainty—and that in any case, who will serve if there is a voyage will be chosen by the will of the deities."
"So true," Waln said. He made a great show of pulling out his chair and readying his books.
"Well then, be seated. I know a busy man like yourself doesn't have all day. Let us apply ourselves to Pellish. After all, a gift for languages was all Harjeedian had going for him when he was chosen. With a little hard work, we can make the deities' choice obvious."
Shivadtmon's face grew tight. For a moment Waln thought he might have pushed too hard. Then the aridisdu relaxed.
"You have an odd way of stating things, Waln Endbrook, but I believe your desire to help me is sincere. By all means, let us study Pellish. However, would you care to tour the harbor with me this evening? Several ships are being considered for the journey, and I would like the opinions of a talented sailor like yourself as to which might best serve."
Fighting an urge to drag the man to the harbor that very moment, Waln nodded.
"I would be delighted," he said with a smile. "Delighted to be of service."
Eshinarvash slowed to a canter when u-Bishinti was well behind them.
I wonder if Eshinarvash put on the burst of speed to make sure I'd be out of range for any easy retreat? Derian thought. Does this mean I've been kidnapped again? Or is he just showing off?
Now that they had slowed, Derian felt more comfortable taking a look at their surroundings. They were moving through an open valley, the green fields interspersed with clumps of deciduous trees. In the distance he saw a small lake spreading like a mirror to catch the sun.
There was no sign of any of the Wise Horse herds, but he glimpsed a doe and fawn watching them from one of the clumps of trees. Another time he caught a flash of red that had to be a fox. Birds were present in countless numbers, from little seed eaters to the occasional wind-riding hawk circling lazily above.
The whole area had a managed look, and Derian wondered if the Wise Horses permitted periodic human incursion. Elsewhere untended land rapidly went over to young forests intertwined with vines and scrub growth. Then Derian had a startling thought.
What if the Wise Horses manage it themselves—they and the other yarimaimalom? Saplings that sprout where they are not wanted could be trimmed by browsers and grazers. Beaver are always cutting down trees for their dams. Overgrazing is only a problem when the animals are penned and too stupid to move on. What if the herds discipline themselves?
It was an interesting theory. Derian found himself looking for indications that he might be correct, but Eshinarvash was moving too swiftly for easy inspection. This forced Derian back on his own thoughts for company.
Why am I out here? Varjuna told me about the different factions, and most of them don't seem to like us much. What if the yarimaimalom have factions, too? They've run the shop here for a long time. There have got to be those who don't like the idea of changing the way things work. If there's one thing Firekeeper has let slip, it's that the Beasts—call them Wi
se or call them Royal—are no more perfect than we are.
Unlike the night of his first ride with Eshinarvash, Derian found it hard to nurse such apprehensions. If the Wise Horse wanted him dead, he could have thrown and trampled him long before. Moreover, though the summer day was hot, Derian was washed with a cooling breeze. The surrounding landscape was lovely, and, perhaps most important for Derian Carter, he was riding the most magnificent horse he had ever seen.
After a time, Derian realized that they were closing on a clump of trees large enough to be termed a small forest. Eshinarvash was slowing, confirming that this was their destination. A stream meandered out of the shadowy coolness, and at the sound of running water Derian realized that he was thirsty—hungry, too. He usually took his morning ride before eating breakfast and the handful of sugared nuts he had snagged on his way out the door had long since been burned away.
When Eshinarvash stopped, Derian didn't need the slight shivering of the horse's skin to tell him to dismount. He slid to the ground, noting as he did so that both he and the horse were rather sweaty. He was also quite stiff. Riding bareback used different muscles than did riding with a saddle, nor did the shape of a horse's spine agree with a human backside.
He stretched up, then out, trying to work out the kinks.
"If you drink there," Derian said, pointing to a small pool, "I'll take my water from above. Don't worry. I won't muddy it."
But though Eshinarvash must have been thirsty, he did not move to drink. Instead he walked slowly back and forth in the shade.
He's walking himself cool! Derian thought in astonishment. I guess I never thought about it, but even a Wise Horse would be subject to colic. I wonder what they do about stones in their hooves?
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