Another thought came to me. This one was better. I said, finally answering Iro’s question, “Perhaps, as we have not found Aras, he is moving away from us as we walk toward him. He might be with Inhejeriel. She would know where she must go. If Aras were with her, he would probably help her go there. He would not wait for us if he could help her enough by himself.” I added, “If Aras and Inhejeriel are together, perhaps Etta is with them as well. I think they were close together when the shiral wind came.” Lalani had been near the other women, but she had been flung away from them. She did not point this out, for which I was grateful. Perhaps I was foolish to hope that Etta and Inhejeriel and Aras might all be together, but I did hope that.
Iro did not answer at once. Probably he too suspected the hope was foolish. But after a little while, he said, “It may be so. We have seen how closely the gods are listening to Etta, and your Lau is not bad with the sword. Together, they might confound some number of enemies.”
“Inhejeriel is the one who will confound the Saa’arii, whether they are living men or those shadows,” Lalani declared. “She truly thinks she can do it, at least long enough to bring her people back to the land of the living. She has to think so, she has worked very hard to make it so, but she does think she can do it.”
“She explained more to you?” I should have realized this was likely. Lalani had had days to speak with Inhejeriel, days to become friendly with her—and Lalani was a woman who made friends easily, and a Lau who would not flinch at once from any mention of sorcery. I asked, “What did she explain?”
“Enough that I know she thinks she can do it. There are legends about people who did something like she means to try. Not as huge,” Lalani admitted. “But she does know how, I am certain of that, or I am certain she thinks so. She is something like a memory-keeper as well as a sorcerer, and I think something else as well, something unique to her people.” She added, slipping into darau, “I haven’t had any of the training for memory-keepers, of course—even if I were a respectable woman, no memory-keeper would bother with a woman my age. But perhaps I could be. Inhejeriel thinks I could be a memory-keeper. She really does think I can help her. I hope we find them soon!”
“I have never understand the exact meaning of that phrase,” I said. “Memory-keeper.”
“I’ll try to think how to explain.” But Lalani did not try at once. She exclaimed instead, “Oh, I wish we’d found the others already! This walking is ridiculous. Why can’t the gods just shift the land to bring us all to the right place?”
I said in taksu, “If the gods were able to shift the world so that we stood in the correct place, they would likely have done so long since.”
“Yes,” Iro said. From his fervent tone, he had been thinking about that for some time. He went on, speaking now to Lalani. “Plainly the gods favor us above the Saa’arii. I hardly see how we could be mistaken to think so. Yet, consider, when an avalanche begins, the gods may turn it aside if that is their wish. But they cannot put the snow back where it was and cause the avalanche not to have happened. When war comes, the gods may hamper the ferocity of those who are enemies if it pleases them to do so, as they did long ago when they set the Little Knife into the world. But if one country overpowers another so that the border shifts far south or far north, the gods cannot set the border back where once it lay. Perhaps the Saa’arii tide is like that.”
What Iro had said seemed right to me. If the Saa'arii tide were such a working as could cast a shadow across the sky and the earth and all the places below the earth, then their power must be truly extraordinary.
I said, “I agree that we must have the favor of the gods. They have shown that many times. I think they are trying to stop the Saa’arii from destroying the Tarashana and taking the starlit lands. I think the gods do not want that to happen.” I paused. It seemed a remarkable thing to hope that a small Tarashana woman might undo a calamity beyond the gods’ power to rectify; that the gods themselves might set their hope on Inhejeriel.
I could not help but wonder what might happen to us if she came to the peak of Talal Sabero and we were not there. Even if she worked her sorcery to bring her own people back to the land of the living, even if she fulfilled every hope, perhaps that sorcery would not reach so far as to find us.
That was not a thought to share. I said, “If we can travel a little faster, that might be better. Iro, do you still feel sick from the lack of water?”
He flicked a dismissive hand to say that if he did, this was unimportant.
“Good. Were you injured at all in the battle with the Saa’arii?” I did not say Tell me the truth, but I gave him a direct look that meant the same thing.
He met that look. “I am perfectly well, Ryo.”
I assumed he was not perfectly well, but he was moving better now that he was suffering less from thirst. I said, “You will take my sword. I am wounded, not seriously, but enough to perhaps cause some difficulty in a hard fight.” The pain of my injuries was worse now than it had been. I feared the wounds might have become fevered, but there was no reason to look because there was nothing to be done. A man who cannot set injury and pain aside when he must fight is waiting to die, but plainly Iro would be the stronger in battle now. I took my sheathed sword and gave this to him.
Without expression, Iro slung my sword into place at his back. “I was careless to lose my sword. I will endeavor not to lose yours.”
“I would prefer to have it back,” I agreed. “But it was luck that let me keep it in my hands. I lost hold of other things that mattered more.” I glanced at Tano, who flushed and dropped his gaze.
We were now traveling more steeply uphill, we Ugaro jogging while Lalani only lengthened her stride. Once again the stone to either side had fallen away so that we followed a ridge. This one was narrow, but not so narrow that we had to walk single-file. This high, all the mountains around us seemed to glow with moonlight; light ran across the pale stone like water and set every streak of ice ablaze with liquid fire, so luminous that I found myself wondering whether, if I melted a palmful of ice in my hand, I might find moonlight spilling up from my fingers rather than water spilling down.
The wide indigo sky was scattered with uncountable brilliant stars, save near the Moon, where her bright radiance hid their light. The Dawn Sisters had vanished. They were probably very close to the Moon now, their light hidden within hers. Silver mist formed a halo around her face. We Ugaro say that this means the Moon has come near to the earth. I had no doubt of that at this moment. The wind had died away. The world seemed to have fallen into a great waiting stillness, as though the earth and the heavens waited for a storm to break.
Iro halted. I took one more step before I realized and almost had to set a hand against Lalani’s back to steady myself. Only then did I realize how distracted I had been, by the light, the air, the ice, and most likely by a little fever. I had permitted myself to become disgracefully inattentive. I breathed deeply now, making myself aware of the world, as I should have been all this time.
It was obvious why we had stopped. Before us, the stone ran out into a narrow span of pure ice, no broader than two handbreadths. This swept in a smooth curve down from the mountainside, down almost to the mist that drifted below us. But then the span ran up again, becoming a glimmering thread in the distance, where it swept up at a far steeper angle toward the high slopes of Talal Sabero.
We had seen other such ice formations as we traveled, but never one so long and slender. Perhaps that long arc was broken somewhere. But as far as I could see, the ice ran smooth and white and endless, straight from this place to the still-distant heights of the mountain.
Iro said, his voice level, “One might assume the gods guided us to this place so that we might go the rest of the way. One might imagine they would despise the cowardice of anyone who turned away from the bridge they have provided.”
“Yes,” I said. That seemed likely. But the Saa’arii shadow tide streaked the sky before us. One edge of that emp
tiness had already crept very close to this slender span of ice. I could not see through that shadow; the world became ragged at its edge and then disappeared where the flatness became darker. One could not stare at that emptiness and see it move, but when I looked away and then back again, I could see that the raggedness of the near edge had changed shape, that the dark emptiness was coming closer to the world—closer to us, closer to the ice bridge, closer to Talal Sabero. Perhaps it already encroached on the mountain. That was hard to judge.
“Look, the black tide is going to eat away the middle of this completely terrifying ice bridge before anyone could cross to the other side!” Lalani said. “Even if we could walk on that ice, we cannot go that way. But we could not do so even if the shadow were not coming down like that. Surely not even an Ugaro can walk on that ice!”
“In the land of the living, no,” Iro said. “The ice would be far too steep. Here?” He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, turning to me.
I thought this might be the first time he had deferred to me willingly. Of course, I was no more certain of the proper course now than he was. I sighed. If one of us set a foot on that ice bridge and began to follow it, then we would quickly discover many things. I waited for a breath and another breath, hoping a wolf would come and show us that we should take that direction. But no wolf came. I realized now that we had not heard any wolves for a long time. It seemed a long time. It seemed to me we had been walking a very long time, though there was no way to judge time when the Moon and the stars did not follow their accustomed paths. The Sun had not risen. That might have meant we had not been in the land of the shades even one full day. I found this very difficult to believe, but I set that uncertainty aside.
Still, I agreed with everything he had said: I could not believe we had come to this place accidentally.
I said, “Perhaps we might walk on that ice. That is no more difficult to believe than walking up a sheer cliff, as Lalani and I have done in this place.”
Iro looked out along the long and perilous span of ice. He said, his tone judicious, “Ryo, that is a bridge. I believe the gods brought us to this place so that we might cross it. I think we should go on with confidence. If we do this, then we must do it now and cross as swiftly as we may, so that we come to the other side before the Saa’arii tide comes upon that bridge and blocks the way. That is my opinion. But perhaps I am wrong. I will make this trial. Then we will see how everything happens. But you should take back your sword now, in case I am mistaken in everything.”
I shook my head. “You are not injured. In a fight, you would be more use. I will make this attempt—”
“Ryo, I could—” Tano began, interrupting me.
“Men!” said Lalani, with such utter disgust that we all stopped and looked at her. She set her hands on her narrow hips and glared at us. “We may not have rope, but we have two blankets,” she said, biting off each word. “We will cut these blankets into narrow strips, knot them together, and tie them around someone. Tano. He weighs less than either of you. He can test that bridge. If he falls, the two of you can pull him back up and we can think again. And I do mean think! Not set ourselves forward for stupid, unnecessary deeds, however brave we like to think ourselves!”
Iro and I looked at each other. I was embarrassed. His mouth was crooked up on one side in a wry expression that acknowledged the obvious truth that we had both been stupid.
“I would do this,” Tano said tentatively.
“Yes,” I said. Of course he would. I raised my eyebrows at Iro, who sighed and made a small gesture of concession. Drawing his knife, he said to Lalani, “Give me the blankets.”
“At least you all have the sense to listen to better ideas,” she muttered, unwrapping the blankets, which she had been carrying around her shoulders so that she could be warmer. Without them, she would be cold, but she said nothing of this. In her own way, Lalani was as brave as a warrior. And, apparently, more sensible.
Now that we had settled on this course, Tano stared out into the air, at the luminous ice and pale stone and flooding moonlight—and at the terrible smear of black emptiness that cut across the sky, eating all the light and giving nothing back. He looked at that for a moment. Then he dropped his gaze, pretending he was not afraid of anything.
Lalani shifted a step closer to him and put her arm around his shoulders, leaning against him in the manner of a sister who knows her brother is afraid or upset or worried. He returned her gesture without noticeable uncertainty. They had become friends. I had not realized, but I should not have been surprised. Such strange events as we had faced will draw people together quickly. Also, Lalani knew very well how to put a young man at ease.
I hoped very much we would all survive. But I did not truly expect events would happen in that way. It came to me now that if we died here, Lalani might fall into the shadow tide, or she might be trapped here in this part of the land of the shades, unable to go to the place meant for her people. Geras and Suyet might be caught in the same way; Aras as well.
Perhaps borders might run through the land of the shades, as through the land of the living, and so the dead might pass from one place to another. I had no idea. No tales described anything of the kind. Perhaps some or all of us might soon discover whether that might be so.
Iro finished with the blankets and put his knife away. He nodded to Tano, who stepped to the edge of the ridge we had been following. He tested the ice with the toe of one boot as Iro crouched to tie the end of the cloth around his ankle.
“Not his chest?” Lalani asked. “Are you sure?”
“That would take too much of the length.” Iro straightened and set a hand on Tano’s shoulder, looking into his face. “If you fall, let yourself fall. Use your hands to catch yourself against the stone. Do not try to climb up again yourself. Let us pull you up.”
“Yes,” Tano said.
“If you wish to check my knots, I will not be offended.” Iro included me in that statement with a glance.
“I have no doubt your knots will hold,” Tano said.
“Nor do I,” I agreed.
“Men,” muttered Lalani, not with as much force this time, but rolling her eyes. She stooped to check the knots, looking at the way Iro had tied them, tugging hard at the strips of cloth. Then she took Tano’s hand and let him help her back to her feet. “Pretend this is all level ground,” she told him. “Assume it is all like that. Walk with confidence that you will not fall.”
Then she stepped back, and Tano turned and set one foot on the ice. He took a breath and walked forward. At once his body canted forward at a completely unreasonable slant. He did not fall, despite the obvious impossibility of that position. When he turned to look back at us, his eyes were wide with amazement.
“So,” said Iro. He called to Tano, “Come back. We will untie the cloth, lest it hamper you as you walk.” To me, he said, his tone ironic, “That is a bridge.”
“Exactly as you said,” I agreed courteously.
Lalani ignored us. She said instead, “Those cloth strips might be good to have. Suppose the Saa’arii tide does come upon us. You see this bridge will take us very close to the edge of that tide. It may cross the bridge before we have gone that far, so that we have no choice but to go into it or return the way we came. If it happens that way, shouldn’t we tie ourselves together?” Now that she was less angry with us, she was speaking in something closer to the deferential manner expected of young Lau women. She gave Tano her hand to steady him as he stepped from the ice back onto stone, but went on speaking to me and to Iro in the same way. “Before, when the black tide came over us, we all found ourselves alone. That might keep us from losing one another. Would that not be better?”
Iro began to answer, but stopped himself, glancing at me.
“If we need to fight, being tied together would hamper us too much,” I told Lalani. “But you are right that we should stay together if we can.” I turned to Iro. “We might loop cloth around a wrist, loosely, so that we co
uld pull free in a heartbeat. Do you think that would hamper us too much?”
Iro considered the matter. “Becoming separated might not matter much. We all know which direction we should go. We cannot become lost. But,” he added, after barely any pause, “I think this is a useful idea. I agree we should do it if the edge of the shadow tide comes within half a bowshot. If we must go into that place—” he stopped, and began again more carefully, “Perhaps, if we must go into that place, a warrior with a sword should go first.”
“Yes, that would certainly be best,” I said, keeping my tone level, as though I did not mind the idea. “You will take the place in front, Iro. Then Tano. Then Lalani. I will take the place at the rear.” I looked at Lalani. “I have had occasion to notice that Lau do not know how to walk on ice without slipping, even when the ice is level and flat. Tano will be in front of you. Watch how he moves. You will see that he bends his knees a little to lower his balance. He will keep his back straight rather than bending forward. He will keep his head up and his gaze ahead, not down. He will be relaxed, not tense. Walk in that way, as though you do not expect to fall.”
“Yes, but Ryo, I don’t—”
I went on, deepening my voice a little to make her listen. “This will be dangerous, but not as dangerous as it seems. You and I will tie ourselves together now. The cloth will be tied around your waist; I will take a loop around my wrist. If you fall, I will catch you—”
“You won’t,” she protested, forgetting to speak taksu. “I’ll pull you off after me, Ryo! It doesn’t matter how strong you are, on that ice, any sharp pull will be too much!”
“It will not happen in that way. If you fall, I will drop low on the other side of the bridge.”
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