Cilla loosed her hold on me to draw Tam’s body up a little, supporting it against her own. Tam’s eyes were wide open, but unfocused, and she lay limp in Cilla’s hold. Mercifully, the first cold fear that had clutched me as she fell was unfounded: she still lived.
I dug out the poor healing aids I had and tried to use them.
“She is so cold—” Cilla drew Tam into a closer embrace. “When the fire is gone—there is aching cold.”
“No!” I cried out.
With Cilia’s help, I managed to get Tam’s mouth open a little and drop into it some of the liquid I had put together, hoping it was indeed an adequate restorative. She did swallow and, by that small response, reassured me a little.
However, she needed warmth. We, too, were shivering and my hands were growing stiff. Cilla gently rested Tam’s head on her pack and, as she did, I saw one of Tam’s hands slip to her side. It was curled into a fist and, when I sighted it, I was certain I knew what she held.
Cilla arose to make her way once more to the portal, where she passed her hands up and down. I knew by that gesture she discovered that the barrier was still in place.
Meanwhile, I pried Tam’s clenched fingers apart. She did hold the stone from the ruins. I had no promise that what I would do might aid her; I could only hope.
As I took the strange talisman firmly into my own grasp, grateful for the warmth it held, I waved to Cilla to bring her back.
“Hold her; we can share body warmth. I will make use of this—” I showed the stone.
“What will that do?”
“I do not know,” I returned truthfully. “But it is somehow bonded to Tam”—I held it between both hands now—“and is a thing of Power. She has been drained, and perhaps can be restored.”
I began at Tam’s head, holding the stone steady against her forehead, drawing it back and forth. Over her eyes and mouth I repeated that touch, then moved it above her throat. Without any suggestion from me, Cilla leaned over and loosened the lacings that fastened Tam’s jerkin.
Across my sister’s shoulders, her breasts, I drew the artifact; then I brought it to rest where I could feel a slow, weak heartbeat. There I held it. I could have shouted aloud when I felt heat spreading out from the talisman to warm her chill flesh.
“She is warmer,” Cilla reported suddenly and, even as she did so, Tam sighed and her eyes closed, no longer held in that blank stare.
Though Tam now appeared to be sleeping, we did not leave her, rather settled close beside her, that our body warmth might aid in her recovery. I left the Stone lying over her heart, to ensure that any Power that might return to her through it would come directly to that seat of life.
However, now that our first fears had been somewhat stilled, we had time to consider our plight. We were indeed trapped, and to what purpose? The twilight had darkened well into true night beyond that door, which I was sure led to the outer world, if not up the interior of the cliff and to safety.
I drew one long, slow breath after another as I had been lessoned in childhood, fighting as best I could any weakening fear. When I believed I had indeed armed myself against doubt, I strove to sharpen my Talent, depleted though that Gift certainly was.
As I did so, I became aware of another reach of Power, bearing little resemblance to any I knew. Zolan, who had so effectively brought us into this captivity, had a Gift not like to ours. And a greater Talent controlled him through it—why I was so certain of this, I could not say.
“Look—” Cilla pointed to the curve of the wall above the barred exit. Her finger sketched a curling line in the air.
She might have summoned the blue fire that immediately outlined her discovery. The crystal line she indicated was only too familiar. This was closely akin to the pattern we had foolishly half stitched into being back in Grosper—like, yes, but not its twin. I Sent forth a questing toward the sensed Power, trying to pick up any hint of the Dark. But no warning responded. Cilla, too, appeared to have lost interest in it, for her hand dropped back, and she no longer sketched upon the air.
“It does not threaten,” I observed.
“No. Perhaps we would be safer if it did,” my sister returned. “Hidden dangers are far worse than those in full view. I have been thinking … .” She hesitated as if her thoughts imprisoned her even as this rock chamber held us three.
Drucilla
I LOOKED TO Bina, then down into Tam’s face. All animation had disappeared from her expression; she might have been masked. Dared we try to reach her by Send now, would such exhaust her even further? And to use our thought-reach here—I shook my head. Bina was frowning at me.
“What are you thinking?” she asked now, her tone sharp.
“Were we somehow brought here for a purpose? And if so, what can it be? First came the pattern I dreamed.” I shifted my right hand again into the fuller light and began to turn down my fingers as I counted off memories.
“That lout of a Starkadder—” she shot back acidly. “Maclan made clear that he was behind our kidnapping! Maclan it was also who dropped us into this place. Both acts run well together and fit his character. His quarrel with our father could be the root of a feud such as are common among these Northerners. But this”—she made a small wave with her own hand—“bears traces of something else.”
“If,” I began slowly, “Zolan could be the lost king, our presence here might serve another purpose. You with your Gift for the needle might call this a ‘threading,’ as though we were skeins and another’s hand wrought the pattern! Our father is Lord Warden in the Border Lands. At our own court he is respected, looked upon at times as a counselor. Supposing the lost king were returned to Gurlyon, would many of his subjects welcome him?
“The great clans have been at each other’s throats since the war. To have the rightful king in their control would give any chief a powerful weapon. Yet, supposing the king would appear, having been rescued by the Earl of Verset’s daughters, our father could well claim what he wished for that coup—even support him with powerful voice at our own court.”
Bina’s frown deepened. “Do you believe then that Zolan is capable of so twisted a plot?”
“No,” I answered, sure I had the right of it. “Not he, but someone else. This hermit, who has made such a stir here in the North, comes from these mountains. What he has taught is driving a wedge among the great families. Another man coming from the same direction—”
My voice trailed into silence. One of my faults has always been adding to facts the suggestion of imagination. I could well be accused of doing so now, lacking facts that should be produced to shake my air-castle of speculation.
“Does a Great One—an adept of deep Power—lie behind it all?”
Both of us stared and tensed as Tam’s eyes opened and she shifted a little in our hold. She did not try to rise but looked from one to the other of us and back again. Then her hand moved to close about the gem.
“May the Greater Good reward you, sisters. You have drawn me out of the Dark into the Light again. The truth, as I would sword-swear before the queen herself and vow it before those of Talent in the Shrine wherein we serve, is this: a mind and a will are hidden here, and their purpose means trouble for all we cherish.”
Her tone was akin to one used in reading from the Sacred Book of Sartha, for awe and belief lay at its core.
I wet my lips with tongue-tip. Perhaps she might now answer certain questions.
“Does Zolan alone work this?” Even as I spoke, I was inwardly assured that my theory was not the truth.
Tam’s masklike look did not soften. “No.” She did not add anything to that bald negative.
It was Bina who broke the short silence. “Then we still do not know our enemy, and attack could come from any direction.” Her free hand, the mate of which rested on Tam’s shoulder, tightened into a fist.
Tam did not answer. She might have been giving, by silence alone, her agreement to Bina’s statement. However, she now shook off our support and s
at up, holding the talisman gem beneath her chin. A glow was rising from it to paint her jaw, shine on her mouth.
“The fact remains,” Bina said, a bit sourly, “that we must get out of here.”
Her voice was harsh with frustration, an emotion felt by all of us, as strongly as though we shared a Send.
I looked again at the lines on the wall facing me. Designs, drawings—I blinked. For an instant I saw the pattern I feared as clearly as if it were limned on a sheet of patterning-paper and laid on a worktable. Bina’s pack—she carried her improvised healing materials with her … .
Reaching out, I dragged the thick bag to me, loosened the closing tags. What I sought was fortunately at the top since Bina herself had been rummaging inside for what might help in Tam’s recovery.
A mat of fibers, clotted together, came to hand. I did not look up but continued to rummage beneath that first find.
“You have a distillation akin to velle water?” I demanded, bringing out next a netting bag, which enclosed a thick-sided stoppered jug.
“You hold what you seek,” she returned. “What would you do?”
“This potion may be of aid.” Whether I would make matters better or bring further trouble on us, I had no idea. Yet so strongly had a suggestion come to the front of my mind that I could not resist it.
Rising with the fiber mat in one hand and the bagged bottle in the other, I walked toward the wall on the right of the archway. The barrier, as I had hoped, did not prevent movement in that area; it evidently stood only across the opening to prevent passage out.
I wetted the mat with liquid from the bottle and set to work. The glassy veins were raised a little above the surface of the surrounding rock. I rubbed them with care; my supplies were limited, and I could afford no waste. I did not attempt to coat the shining line from one end to the other, sure I did not have sufficient supply of the velle for that. I had to content myself with cutting across the scrolling at intervals.
No fire blazed here, but now the scent of burning arose, carrying with it the suggestion of spices, an under-smell of something charring. It heartened me to see that, when my hand arose from each application of the liquid, the glass appeared cracked, eaten away.
As I brushed, I chanted, hardly above a whisper. Before I had attacked the design for the third time, the words I used for my petition were echoed by both Bina and Tam.
The pattern I followed dimmed first at each spot I anointed; then the glass itself flaked away. When I had dealt with the mineral trails that bordered the door to the right, I swung back to avoid any touch with the invisible barrier and went to do the same with the left-hand side.
Now the bottle had to be shaken to produce its final few drops. I feared the liquid would not last to complete the action. Whether it served to destroy more than just the wall design, I would not know until I finished.
I realized that the glow arising from the crystal lines was ebbing, even from the portions my efforts had not touched. This chamber—it was too well-shaped to be considered a cave—was steadily darkening.
Then Tam arose to stand beside me, her low chant stronger in my ears. She had formed a cup with both of her hands and she now held them out so that the gem-light guided me to the last of my scrubbing. I feared a second attack, such as the assault we had earlier faced, and when that did not come, I could only believe that my actions had achieved nothing.
We three stood shoulder to shoulder before the archway. Only bits of dimmed and cloudy crystal were visible here and there where the scrollwork had shone. However, that these pieces of pattern held any Power now we could hardly believe.
Any danger that might linger must be mine alone. I tossed the wet fiber mass, the empty bottle, from me and took a determined step forward, my hand stretched out.
Out and out—my fingers encountered nothing. I took another step, a longer one, forward. Again, nothing. Then my hand was under the archway. We were free!
“Yes!” I swung around to face Tam and Bina. I spun away again to sweep both hands back and forth, meeting no obstruction this time.
I was drained from the use of Talent, yet I had no wish to spend one moment more in this stone cell. Nor did I know if my attempt at Ward destruction would continue to work. Was an alarm now ringing somewhere in the Dismals to alert the setter of this trap?
Stooping, we took up our packs. Tam halted abruptly at the one Zolan had discarded when he had so abruptly left us. With Bina’s swiftly proffered aid, she dragged it directly before the portal, and together they booted it through.
We were out in the open night. Before us stretched a wide section of ledge. No trees grew here, so moonlight fully bathed us. Tam’s talisman, too, continued to glow brightly, banishing much of the surrounding dark.
At first we could not see any way over. A cautious exploration of the edge of the rock shelf revealed only a descent as sharp as that down which we had been initially lowered. And we were not at the real top of the cliff, either. That towered above us, slanting perilously outward, and its dizzy backward-bending offered no possible foot- or handhold. Had we won our way into the open, only to be held in a prison of another kind?
“Rope—” Tam turned to the pack Zolan had shouldered.
Tamara
I PULLED AT the loose tangle of thick cord that had been bound to the pack when Bina and I had shoved it through the opening. What use it might have now, I did not yet know, but it was the best tool I could think of.
“It cannot be long enough,” Bina protested. Cilla had dropped down, using her own supply sack as a backrest.
I was aware that her opening of the door had depleted her; I also knew that I was far from restored from the backlash of force encountered in my own adventure. All the same, I was sure that we had precious little time. Our escape must have been felt by whoever set the Ward within—breakage of a binding-spell can always warn the one who placed it. Without doubt, a search would be mounted for us, so if we got no farther while we could, it would mean swift end to our hard-won liberty.
Cilla’s eyes, I could see, were closed. Roused now, she could do little to help herself. I made my hands into fists to still their shaking as best I could.
Zolan and Climber had gone this way, and that length of rope had been discarded as if our host had no use for it. Neither he nor the beast from the Dismals had been waiting for us. Thus there was a way either down or up.
I swayed as I stood there. The Dark—that Night of Nothingness my sisters had drawn me from—seemed to be lapping over the rim of the ledge to threaten me. I was forced to lower myself to the gritty rock as Cilla had done before me.
Fourteen
Sabina
Tam and Cilla lay comatose on the ledge. Any further action must now be mine. First I squatted down opposite them and raided my supplies. I began by chewing, as a cow might a cud, a mouthful of dried trail meat. I could so nourish myself and explore for them at the same time.
Once more I crept carefully to the outer rim of the ledge, lying flat to get as far as was prudent. Though the moonlight made measurement difficult, I believed that we were perched far above the ground, which sloped away from the foot of the cliff.
A number of vines hung below, some reaching well above the earth where they were rooted. We had been shown two perils of the dense forest that shot a thick green tongue close to the cliff base. What dangerous surprises those upward-thrusting plants might produce we had no way of knowing.
The nearest one appeared to cling firmly to the rock for support. I needed better light to see clearly. Now I arose and moved to the section of wall to the left of the archway.
I could indeed get a clearer view of the cliff here, but the swell of its surface directly above discouraged any attempt to climb. If Zolan had been able to go there, he had used some method no longer available.
Still I continued to skirt the wall, my eyes searching anything above my reach. If only I knew more! If only the Powers we had uncovered here had been manifest when we had been abl
e to ask aid from my mother or Duty!
It was scent that revealed the secret. Acuity of smell is one of a healer’s most valued skills, as sickness can many times be detected by some odor given off by a patient. Medicaments too are often sorted by scent. Equally, though, this sensitivity can be a burden in places of strong reeks. Thus, according to training, healers spend as little time as possible where that sense may be nearly overpowered.
When I had attended Climber, I had learned his personal scent, covered as it had been by the blood of his wounds and a lesser odor, doubtless from the monstrous attacker. However, during the time he had been in my care, I had registered another scent—not only of healing-salves but also the cachet of the animal himself.
I moved closer to the wall. I might well have just overturned a flask of some potent liquid. Animals can produce such “markers” during their travels, to set signals along their ways, to signify their gender, to offer challenges. These scents are much stronger than the usual odor given off by a furred traveler.
Climber! Though I could not be truly sure of the identity of the beast that marked this particular stretch of stone, I felt my guess was correct. Zolan’s companion had chosen to spray this area of cliff and not too long ago.
Why just here? There might be many reasons and some beyond human ken. However, some things render themselves more discernible to touch than sight, especially at night. Straining my arm upward as far as I could reach, I drew fingertips down the cliff surface. Aside from weather pittings I felt nothing. If any structure therein, whether portal or stairway, had been concealed by Warding, I could not sense it.
I located a damp spot, oily to the touch. The rightness of my guess was beyond doubt—the stone had been marked, and very profusely. Now I looked along to my left. Why should the animal set a mark if this place were not path or boundary?
Clouds scudded across the moon. Light was limited again. Only a black shadow at my feet caught my eye before darkness really closed in. I stooped to explore it with a hand.