The Riddle - Alison Croggon [127]
Dharin grinned and tapped his forehead. “All in here,” he said. “I won’t get lost.”
“Good.” She gave him a long, slow look, which seemed to Maerad full of sadness, and then embraced him. “Travel well, and take no risks. You will have danger enough.” She kissed him on both cheeks and then turned to Maerad.
“You won’t find a better guide,” she said. “He is young, but there is much knowledge in his bones.”
“I know,” Maerad answered. “And I am grateful. And I thank you for your generosity to me, and your welcome.”
Sirkana stroked her cheek and then kissed her.
“Go then. And may you find what you need.” She returned to her interrupted task, her back straight and unyielding. With misgivings, Maerad felt that Sirkana’s sternness concealed a deep sorrow.
From the storehouse, Maerad and Dharin went straight back to the dog stables. Maerad watched from a safe distance while Dharin skillfully harnessed six of the dogs. “The others can run behind until we get out of Murask,” he said, looking up. “They won’t fit through the tunnels if I harness them all. We can both walk alongside until then.”
They left the Howe through another tunnel by the dog pens. It was much shorter than the winding tunnel through which Maerad had entered, since the wall here was scarcely thicker than the length of a man and was obviously designed for the dog sleds. It was guarded by a warden who, in comical contrast to the man who had let her in, was taller even than Dharin and thin as a stick. He was, however, equally silent as he went through the laborious system of locking and unlocking the three gates; Maerad wondered why Murask specialized in such surly door wardens.
They emerged onto a flat area high over a snowy slope: before them the side of the Howe swept down like the side of a mountain, smoothly covered in snow. It would be impossible to climb, Maerad thought, as she looked down the slope. But going down was another matter. The sled sat on top of a drift of snow, like a boat on water; it reminded Maerad of nothing so much as the White Owl perched on the crest of a huge wave in the storm, in the breathless moment before it plunged into an abyss.
Dharin told Maerad to get into the sled, and then began to harness the rest of the dogs. They were whining now, eager to go, their tails wagging. In a surprisingly short time he had harnessed them all, and the fifteen dogs fanned out in a row, testing their shoulders against the weight of the sled, but not as yet moving. Maerad was surprised; somehow she had expected them to be harnessed like oxen to a cart, one behind the other.
“This way, every dog sees what is in front,” said Dharin when she asked why. “They prefer it. Though they all still follow Claw.”
He climbed onto his perch behind Maerad, made one last check that everything was in place, and cried out, “Ot!”
The dogs immediately started running, and with a jerk the sled moved over the lip of the slope. Then they were moving downhill, gathering speed at a reckless rate, the dogs fanned out in front of them. Maerad clutched the side rails until her knuckles were white and shut her eyes. Her stomach seemed to have been left on top of the Howe wall.
Just as Maerad had decided they must crash, or at least run the dogs over, the sled righted itself with a slight bump and slowed down. She opened her eyes and looked around cautiously.
At first they ran alongside the high wall of Murask, its shadow falling chill across them, but in a very short time they had passed it and were running over the Arkiadera Plains. But they were not the plains as Maerad had walked them so short a time before: they were now a brilliant expanse of white stretching in every direction, broken only by the dark line of trees that grew on the river’s banks. Maerad leaned over the side of the sled to look behind them for a last glimpse of Murask. Covered with snow, the Howe seemed even stranger than it had before, a huge solitary mound risen from the shadowless flatness of the plains. It was