The Dragon Revenant - Katharine Kerr [115]
“Hope you’re not afraid of heights!” he yelled.
She shook her head no to save her voice.
“Come with me,” he went on at the same high volume. “Somewhat else to show you.”
Back where the road emerged from the hills, the shoulder sloped gradually enough to allow them to scrabble up the shrubby grade and climb partway up the hill. As they moved slowly round to the valley view, they also angled away from the falls sufficiently to hear themselves talk again.
“Actually I wanted a private word with you,” Salamander said.
“I assumed that. Is Gwin cutting up rough about working with us?”
“I’m afraid so. Apparently he sees surrendering his will, even for the briefest of moments, as a grave defeat and insult. He’s not accusing us of insulting him, mind—rationally he knows he should help—but he finds the idea so revolting that I doubt if he’ll be able to do it.”
“That’s torn it, then! We’ll have to rely on the Wildfolk. They’ve been good about warning us so far.”
“Relying on the Wildfolk, my petite partridge, is one of the better ways to suffer a bitter disappointment.”
“Oh, of course, but there’s naught else to do.”
“Well, unfortunately, there is somewhat else, but I say unfortunate because it’s incredibly dangerous.” By then the steep climb was making him pant a little. “To me, that is, who’s the one who’d be doing it if we do it at all.”
“Scrying in a trance?”
“Worse than that. Flying. Like Aderyn.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Well, I just barely learned. That’s what makes it so dangerous.”
“Without you the rest of us are doomed. This is no time for cheap heroics.”
“Exactly what I’d hoped you’d say.”
They shared a grin and saved their breath for the climb. At last they came to the crest, some five hundred feet above the cliff edge, and could look down the long valley to the west. Jill swore aloud at still another marvel lying there, a lake about a mile across and so achingly blue that it looked like a piece of sky trapped among the trees. It was also circular, so perfectly so that again she thought of government slaves. Salamander waved an arm in its direction and assumed his portentous wizard’s voice.
“Behold the Navel of the World.”
“Ye gods, is that what the Bardekians call it? Why did they go to all the trouble to dig a pond like that?”
“They didn’t. It’s been here forever, or so the priests tell me. The Wildfolk say it was made by a huge stone that fell out of the sky after the aforementioned ice carved the valley. That’s what I mean about trusting the Wildfolk, my turtle-dove, or spirits in general. They mean well, but they have no wits. If they don’t know the truth about somewhat, they’ll make up a fantastic story just because they want to help their friends so badly.”
“I see. Well, dogs don’t have any wits either, but they bark loud enough when someone’s at your gate.”
“Now that is true spoken, and a sign of hope. And, as you say, there’s not a lot else we can do. When we’re making camp tonight, you and I shall ask our little friends to keep watch for us.”
“If we live to reach the valley floor. That trail frightens me.”
“I’ve ridden down it before, actually. You’ve got to trust the horses. They want to live as badly as we do, and they’re the ones with sure feet.”
“If you say so. And where’s Pastedion?”
“Just beyond the lake. If it weren’t so misty you could make it out, so we’re not too far from sanctuary. Unless we want to lame and founder these horses, once we reach the valley floor they’re going to have to take their leisure like lords for the rest of the day.”
After a few minutes more rest they set out, Jill riding at the head of the line, Rhodry next,