Page 16 of Voyage to the City of the Dead

  "Point of diminishing returns, Etienne," Lyra reminded him. "Every hour we're using more power to cover less distance. Can't you calculate how long it will be before we reach the break‑even point and find ourselves making no progress even at full power?"

  "Soon enough. You say there's a way to get around this Topapasirut, Tyl?"

  "Above, yes. Beyond, I do not know. I have not been to that place. But I have gazed on the Topapasirut. If thee would do likewise, thee must leave thy boat behind, at least until thee see for thyselves."

  "Leave it where?"

  "Turn back to the trail end. I would not have thought there was a place, but thy boat can rise like a bird from the water. "

  Etienne looked at Lyra.

  "It's your decision, Etienne. You're the geologist."

  "Hydrology's not my specialty, though. But it's starting to look more and more like we've come to a dead end, at least as far as this section of the river is concerned." He looked back at Tyl. "The east wall, you said?"

  The Tsla nodded. Etienne turned back to the instruments. Unwilling to risk turning the boat broadside to the current, he lifted it on repellers and turned it neatly in midair before setting it gently back into the water.

  There was a sharp lurch as the river caught the hull. He used only enough power to maneuver, letting the cells re­charge as they raced back downstream.

  "This is our best chance, Etienne. We have to see what we're up against."

  "I know that, dammit. The canyon has to widen out some­where above this. It can't be like this all the way to the arctic line. Too much erosion. There's a geological anomaly some­where ahead of us."

  "And it has a name, apparently. Could it be another big waterfall, like the Cuparaggai above Turput?"

  "No. I'm sure of that much, anyway. The water here isn't acting like that and there's no indication of a sharp rise in elevation at this point. The photogrammetrics are solid enough on that score. That's why I don't understand this intensified flow. But if this Topapasirut's only the narrowest part of the canyon, we'll see how much farther Upriver it lies. Maybe we can pass above it on repellers."

  By midday they had returned to the section of cliff Tyl had spotted. Etienne again lifted the hydrofoil on its repell­ers, set it down on an exposed beach out of reach of the river's grasp.

  The crevice to which Tyl had alluded turned out to be much more than that‑it was a break in the Barshajagad wall, a sizable side canyon rising toward the sky. And the winding line against the rocks that Lyra had thought was a high‑water mark did indeed show signs of use. It snaked along the granitic wall and started up the side passage.

  "Now we climb," said Tyl confidently.

  "For how long?"

  "Several days, at least." He turned his gaze upward.

  "Homat won't be glad to hear that," Etienne murmured.

  "Why not leave him to watch over the boat?" Lyra sug­gested.

  "Sensible. We'll leave one of the porters with him anal carry our own supplies. I don't imagine he'll regret missing the chance to view the `birthplace of all river devils."'

  "I will come with thee and leave the others behind, for I do not share thy trust of the Mai," Tyl said.

  "Homat's been invaluable," Etienne replied. "Without his aid we wouldn't be here now."

  "His kind are not to be trusted."

  "In this instance I think you're wrong, Tyl," Lyra said. It was the first time Etienne had seen her openly dispute the Tsla's opinion.

  Tyl responded with a gesture of indifference. "Then I will direct Swd to remain behind by himself. While recuperating, he will keep watch over thy property‑and its other guard."

  A small stream trickled down the branch canyon, which was indeed steeper than anything they'd climbed thus far. As the meters dropped behind and below them, so did the temperature. The Redowls were obliged to wear their long­sleeved and long‑legged attire while Tyl and the porters re­donned their capes and togas. Since they didn't expect to find any villagers to trade with, they carried a full stock of rations.

  They ascended to the cloud. At five thousand meters Lyra was having some trouble breathing, though this was due more to the unaccustomed exertion than the altitude. Due to the denser atmosphere, five thousand meters on Tsla­maina was equivalent to thirty‑five hundred meters or so on Terra.

  As they crested the trail head, the clouds momentarily parted. Ahead rose the peak of a steep‑sided mountain that towered above them and the nearby edge of the Guntali. As they rested, Etienne took a sighting on the peak.

  "Eleven thousand meters, most of it frozen."

  "Aracunga," Tyl said. Etienne noticed that all the Tsla now wore their sturdiest clothing. They stood some two thousand meters higher than Turput, at the upper limit of the Tsla ecological zone. They could climb higher still, but not comfortably.

  After several days of climbing to the east, they set off northward. Etienne expected Tyl to continue in that direc­tion, but he was wrong. On the second day they turned slightly to the west, and by that evening the Redowls could feel thunder again.

  They expected another waterfall, perhaps one that plunged the full five thousand meters to the river below. But it was no waterfall Tyl led them toward. It was, the Topapasirut.

  Must be the father of all waterfalls, Etienne mused, still unconvinced by Tyl's denials. By the fourth day the thunder had become so loud they could communicate only by signs.

  The Redowls could tap out messages on their wrist com­puters, but the Tsla possessed no such wondrous devices and had to make their intentions known through gestures. It grew damp around them, the rocks treacherous and slick. Yet as they hiked now through the perpetual mist, the sky overhead remained clear.

  Etienne searched in vain for signs of the expected cas­cade. When they finally reached the lip of the abyss, all was explained.

  It was raining upward. Forced into a narrow throat of the Barshajagad, the entire volume of the Skar suddenly made a sharp and unexpected bend from south to west. As a result, the swiftly flowing river cannonaded into the north cliff face that formed the base of the mountain Aracunga, five thou­sand meters below their feet.

  This produced a spray that rose on disturbed air to drench the puny observers clinging to a granite overhang. The solid bedrock trembled under the river's impact. Tyl communi­cated with gestures, but any description was superfluous before the stupendous sight below.

  Etienne knew that this was the Topapasirut, the birthplace of all river devils. He knew that Tyl had been more than right when he'd insisted no boat could pass through this place. The hydrofoil could not rise high enough on its re­pellers to clear the maelstrom.

  Across the canyon, rising from the opposite side of the abyss, was a metamorphic mass that dwarfed even Ara­cunga.

  "The Prompaj!" Tyl screamed into Etienne's ear. He took another sighting.

  "Fourteen thousand two hundred meters," he informed Lyra via wrist computer. "An impossible mountain. I think the two peaks were once closer than now. See how the river bends sharply to the west before turning south again? Tsla­maina's seismically stable now, but a few eons back there must have been one hell of an earthquake in this part of the world. See the signs of slippage?" He pointed to particular strata down in the roaring canyon.

  "This section of the surface slipped eastward. South of here the land went west. The result was the displacement of the northern third of the Skar several kilometers to the east. I'm glad I wasn't around then."

  Lyra tapped out a reply. "I'm not real happy to be here now. Let's get away. I'm cold and wet."

  They lingered a few moments longer so he could chip a few more pictures, take some final measurements. Then they headed back toward the trail head, leaving the clouds and hillsides to swallow up the Topapasirut, its thunder, and the brooding massif that was called Prompaj.

  They made camp that night in a small cave, drying them­selves and their clothes before a large fire. Etienne watched with interest as the porters groomed each ot
her's fur.

  The Redowls said little. There was no point in belaboring the obvious. Their expedition had reached its end. They'd run up against not a brick wall but a watery one.

  When the porters had finished and dressed themselves once more they gathered close around the warmth of the fire. Tyl spoke while his companions ate.

  "What will thee do now, Learned Etienne? Does the spirit boat possess some magical power we have not seen that would enable it to pass through the Topapasirut?"

  "It does not," Etienne replied glumly. "We do have other machines which can fly through the air and put any bird to shame, but we don't have one here. We chose to travel by boat. It's all we have. You were right, Tyl. I apologize for doubting you."

  "You had not seen the Topapasirut, Etienne. No one be­lieves until they have seen."

  "That's it, then." Lyra was not as disappointed as her husband, though she strove to sound as sympathetic as pos­sible. If they could no longer go onward, they would have to go back, and she still had work to do among the Tsla.

  "You've been stopped by a geological phenomenon, Etienne. What better way to conclude your report? Think of the reaction among your colleagues when you describe this place. Maybe some day we can come back up here with an aircar."

  He'd been staring at the floor of the cave. Now he looked up, determined. "They'll be fascinated, but it won't be the end of my report."

  "Etienne," she said gently, "we can't get through that chute. You've already acknowledged that."

  "I won't be stopped by the very river I've come to sur­vey."

  She sighed, leaned back against the inflated sleeping pad. "Maybe you'll accept it by morning."

  “Maybe."

  He did not, nor did he admit defeat during the long descent to the Skar. He kept to himself and brooded, causing Tyl to move next to Lyra.

  "What ails Etienne?"

  "He's unhappy because he knows we can`t go on. F hat means he'll have to leave his work here unfinished."

  "But it is not his fault. Nothing passes Upriver beyond the Topapasirut. He has no control over that. It is not as if he were beaten by something in himself."

  "He knows all that, Tyl, but he is persistent, Etienne is. Always has been."

  "I see. A Tsla teacher would accept the inevitable; such constant worry is harmful to the mind."

  "True, but sometimes it can lead to solutions where none seem possible. I've seen him do it before. Within our fields, Etienne and I are well respected. We've achieved success where others have failed. It's one of the reasons we were allowed to make this expedition while other applicants were rejected. Sometimes, Tyl, blind persistence can succeed where everything else has failed."

  "I still do not understand why you would sacrifice peace of mind. I can admire such tenacity, but I cannot empathize with it."

  Down on the river there was a brief but joyful reunion with those left behind. Homat didn't try to conceal his relief over the safe return of his human protectors.

  "AII these days," he whispered to Lyra later, "trapped with that Tsla, and him mumbling and chanting to himself all the time. It was enough to drive a sane person crazy. Did you find a way to pass this Topapasirut?"

  "No, we did not." To her surprise Homat looked down­cast. "I thought you'd be pleased. That means we have to go back Downriver row, back to the warm: lands of One Skatandah. Don't you miss them?"

  "Very much so, but I have joined myself to your purposes and therefore am disappointed for you."

  "That's a very nice thing to say, Homat." She hadn't expected such depth of feeling from the Mai. Nor was it a ruse. He was genuinely distressed that their journey had come to an end.

  She looked past him, frowned. Etienne was deep in dis­cussion with Tyl and looking more animated than he had in many days. She strolled over to join them.

  "What's all the excitement about?"

  "You tell her," Etienne suggested to Tyl, his features alive with enthusiasm.

  "On the eastern flank of Aracunga Mountain," Tyl ex­plained, "lies the Tsla trading town of Jakaie. I have not visited it myself but it is known to Turput. It is said that beyond Jakaie and the mass of the mountain, the Barsha­jagad once more becomes a navigable river. If thee could but convey thy craft to that place, thee might safely resume thy journey‑if the story is accurate."

  "An impossible if."

  "Maybe not," Etienne murmured. He was tense with pos­sibilities. "Maybe we could portage around."

  For a long moment she just stared at him. Then she let her gaze trace the lower section of the steep trail that wound its torturous course up the side canyon.

  "Sure we could. We'll just hoist the boat onto our shoul­ders and haul it five thousand meters straight up. Lost your mind?"

  Her skepticism didn't even slow him down. "No, I've just found it. Look, the hydrofoil's made of ultralight material. The hull's a carbon filament honeycomb. And we can sur­mount the rough spots on the repellers."

  "With what power?" she argued. "We'd burn out the cells."

  "We would not. You're not listening. We'd only use the repellers to get over real steep places. The rest of the time we'd rely on muscle power. Porters, Lyra! Mount the boat on some kind of platform and pull it up and over."

  She did some quick figuring. "I admit the hydrofoil's light, but it's a relative lightness. You'd still need a thousand Mai or Tsla to drag it up a thousand meters."

  He looked back at Tyl. "Tell her."

  "There is a draft animal," the Tsla explained, "that the Mai use all along the river. It is called a vroqupii. The Mai use them in teams to pull trading boats Upriver against the current. They are strong." He eyed Homat. "Well, Mai?"

  The guide looked thoughtful. "We passed many trading villages below this place. Each should be home to a few vroqupii. The animals used hereabouts must be unusually powerful because the current is so fast."

  "Do you think we could find enough to do it?" Etienne asked.

  "I do not know." Homat gazed at the intimidating trail.

  Lyra's dreams of returning to tranquil Turput were slip­ping away. "Assuming we could find enough animals to do the job, could we hire enough? Would their owners consent to such an undertaking?"

  "If they were promised enough money, certainly," Homat replied, looking at her as if she'd just disputed a fundamental law of nature.

  "What would we pay them with?"

  "Our trade goods," Etienne said. "We have some left."

  "If we use up our remaining supplies we won't have any­thing to give any natives we meet beyond this point."

  "If we don't get beyond this point the question becomes moot." She had no comeback for that. Etienne turned to Homat. "Would these vroqupii be able to climb as high as Jakaie?" He translated the relevant measurements into Mai terms.

  Homat looked uneasy. "We go that much higher than the home of these Tsla who accompany us?" Etienne nodded. "I am not sure. But these Upriver tribes are proud. They might see such a proposal as a challenge."

  "They wouldn't freeze. It's not that high," Etienne said.

  Tyl agreed. "Many Mai hunters hike beyond Turput in search of prey, and their blood continues to flow."

  "How many vroqupii might we need?" Homat wondered. An intense discussion of weight versus capabilities ensued, before the Mai felt comfortable in announcing a figure.

  "Thirty at least. Forty would be better, fifty best, and sixty delightful, but I do not think we can find that many willing to try, not even for a share of off‑world treasure."

  "We must try," Etienne told him.

  "Then I will do my best to convince the Brul, as they who handle the vroqupii are called." His bald skull glistened in the reflected cloud‑glare of afternoon and he smiled ingen­uously. "That is my job, is it not?"

  Etienne nodded once. "Let's get started. Lyra, are you sure you're willing to go along with this?"

  She shrugged. "If you're determined I couldn't stop you anyway, Etienne. I think it's a mistake to sacrifice the rest of o
ur trade goods on a scheme that has a good chance of failing, but I can't argue that it's your last chance to go on. Our last chance," she added with a faint smile.

  "I promise," he told her, "if it looks like we're not going to make it, we'll turn back and return to Turput. I know that's what you want."

  She almost said, "I want what you want, Etienne," but did not. Their relationship was based on more powerful bonds than artificial acquiescence. They did not give ‑in to each other; they agreed on things. She agreed now and having agreed, considered how best to help.

  "Tyl, do you think it can be done with thirty vroqupii?"

  "I have watched them pull heavily laden ships Upriver," the Tsla replied thoughtfully. "They are very strong. But it will require more than mere strength to achieve this thing. It will take cooperation among the Mai who are involved. The vroqupii can, I think, pull thy spirit boat up to Jakaie, but not if the Brul fall to quarreling among themselves."

  "They'll cooperate!" Homat declared angrily. "I'll see to it that they do."

  "And why should they listen to thee?" Tyl replied without malice. "Thee are a runaway from one of the far city‑states that border the Groalamasan. The river folk do not trust those who come from the lands that lie against the Sea."

  "I am not of the city‑states," Homat said proudly. "Not anymore. I am of," he hesitated to glance sideways at Etienne and Lyra, "I am of these folk." Etienne suddenly felt very good.

  "Don't include me in that mental family," Lyra said sar­donically. "I'm going along with this insanity but I don't believe in it. If Homat wants to consider himself as one with Etienne, that's fine. Idiocy knows no species boundaries." Everyone smiled.

  "We'll do it, Lyra," Etienne told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "You'll see. We'll do it! We'll get the hydrofoil up to Jakaie, around the Topapasirut, and down to the river on the far side. Then we'll be on our way again."

  "Sure we will," she said softly. She inhaled deeply. "Well, I guess we'd better get on with it. The sooner this is begun, the sooner it will end."