The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [93]
So he could, but barely. Mic hurried over and helped the old man walk to the privacy of a cluster of young saplings to relieve himself. By the time they returned, Otho seemed more his old self, grumbling and griping about the weather, the flies, the choice of camp-site, and the food.
The day’s travel started out much like the last, but by noon the river had narrowed. Instead of ferns and water reeds, big tan boulders lined the banks or sat sullenly on the river bottom itself. The water turned choppy. At times the boats swirled through white water that slammed the coracles back and forth between rocks and threatened to tip them with swift curls of waves. Fortunately, taking her sister over to the mainland had taught Berwynna to handle a paddle. It took both her and Dougie’s efforts to keep the leather boat upright and untorn. When they finally beached for the evening’s camp, she ached in every muscle and tendon.
So, apparently, did everyone else. Except for the occasional curse from Otho, no one spoke during their soggy meal of moldy bread and cheese, eaten around a small, smoky fire. After dinner, Berwynna had a moment alone with Enj. She tried her best to sound casual when she asked him how much farther they had to go.
“I’m ever so eager to see Lin Serr,” she told him.
“Not too long now.” Enj paused to think something through. “About two days and a half, and we’ll reach the canyon wall. Then we’ll have to climb up the cliff, and finally hike the rest of the way. So four days more, say.”
Berwynna blinked back tears and smiled as brightly as she could. “That’ll be splendid. I wonder how I’m going to get up the cliff in these dresses, though.”
“Imph, well you might wonder. That lad of yours, too—does he always wrap himself in that blanket thing?”
“It’s called a plaid, and he’s wearing all the clothing he’s got. He wasn’t planning on leaving Alban, you know, when the island took us away.”
“Of course not! Doltish of me! But as for you, Mic should have a spare pair of brigga in that overstuffed pack of his. Ye gods, did he bring everything he owns?”
“Most likely. I’ll ask him about the brigga. They should fit me well enough.”
Indeed, Mic did have a pair of brigga to give her, and a shirt as well. Wearing them made her feel as if she were no longer the Berwynna she’d always been. I’m not just Mara’s twin anymore. The thought made her feel like dancing in joy. That night, wrapped in Dougie’s arms, she decided that the ground made a soft enough bed.
With the rapids past, the river turned calm again, and the rest of the journey passed more easily. For the final day’s run, Berwynna rode in the first boat with Enj, who surrendered the larger boat, and Mic and Otho, to Dougie and his longer arms and greater strength. Just as Enj had predicted, they reached the canyon when the sun had climbed almost to zenith. Its pale walls rose so steep and straight that Berwynna asked him if mortal hands had cut them out of the rock.
“They did, truly,” Enj said. “But I’m not sure who the hands belonged to. The stone masters in Lin Serr say they had naught to do with it.”
“Well, if it’s linked to Haen Marn, I’m not surprised there’s a mystery behind it.”
“Neither am I.” Enj smiled at her. “Now hang on, sister of mine! Dangerous water ahead!”
Inside the canyon the water at first ran fast though reasonably smooth. Berwynna had the leisure to look up from time to time at the pale limestone walls, glaring with light since the sun stood directly overhead. She thought she saw markings of some sort upon the walls, but she had to pay too much attention to her paddle to ask questions. As the space between the walls narrowed, the water ran faster and faster. The final cliff loomed over them by the time that Enj shouted the alarm.
“Dougie, bring her in!”
The two coracles spun out of the river to a shallow beachhead cut out of a cliff face. The men leaped out and hauled the little boats ashore. As Dougie helped Berwynna out, she looked up and saw a narrow set of stairs cut deep into the rock face in a