The Shadow Isle - Katharine Kerr [94]
“The river runs into the city, you see,” Mic spoke in Alban for Dougie’s sake. “I was hoping we could just ride in all the way.” He turned to Enj and repeated the remark in Dwarvish.
“We can’t risk getting sucked in where the river goes underground, ” Enj answered in the same. “The water comes up to the roof, as far as anyone knows, and we’d drown. There’s a cataract deep inside the caverns where the river comes down to bedrock.”
Mic translated, then added, “I didn’t realize all that. It’s a good thing Enj knows what he’s doing.”
“Oh, we could have guessed.” Dougie pointed at the juncture of the river and the cliff. “Follow the bubbles, Mic.”
Indeed, gleaming in the last of the noontide sun, a raft of bubbles was swirling in an unsteady vortex just where the river fell under the stone. With one last swirl it disappeared, and another clutch of bubbles formed in its place.
“Ah, truly.” Mic rubbed his chin. “That’s why I hired you as a bodyguard, Dougie. You’ve got better eyes for danger than I do.”
Berwynna turned to Enj. “Do those stairs reach all the way up?”
“They do.” Enj tilted his head back to look at the rim. “Now, the lads at Lin Serr did cut those, they told me. By Gonn himself, they’re steep! I’ve only ever seen them from the top, so I had no idea. We’d better watch our step, eh?”
“You think they would have cut a railing while they were at it,” Berwynna said.
“Oh, there are handholds now and then. Getting our gear up’s going to be a job and a half, though. It’s a cursed good thing we’ve got rope with us.”
Berwynna spoke in Dwarvish. “It’s Dougie I’m worried about.”
“He does have big feet,” Enj answered in the same. “And there’s no Mountain blood in his veins. Well, I’ll give him a quick lesson in climbing. And then there’s Otho.”
“Haul him up on ropes,” Mic joined in. “Just like the gear.”
Although Otho protested in a storm of foul curses, in the end carry him up they did. Despite Berwynna’s fears, Dougie made the climb fast and safely. At the top, dressed only in his shirt and loin-wrap, he used the boat ropes and his plaid as a sling to haul up first the gear, then a sputtering, snarling Otho, with Mic panting along behind to keep the old man from swinging out and banging back against the rock.
Berwynna went next with Enj close behind her. Near the top, she paused to catch her breath on a flat landing beside a secure knob of rock cut for a handhold. She refused to look down and focused her gaze on the cliff face. Next to the cut knob she could see one of those mysterious markings she’d noticed earlier, but rather than a rune or some other symbol, it appeared to be the edge of some roundish flat thing embedded in the rock itself. It looked like the edge of a pottery plate but beveled like a coin. She had no idea what it might be and returned to climbing.
At the top Dougie was waiting to catch her hands and help her to safety. She walked well away from the edge of the cliff, then allowed herself to look down. The river looked only as wide as a riband, shiny between the cliffs. The sheer distance made her head swirl like the river vortex.
“All up!” Enj’s good cheer steadied her down again. “Mic, here’s what I suggest. I’ll go on ahead while you all make camp here. There’s a farm not far away where we can borrow a mule.”
“How far?” Mic said.
“Oh, about half a day’s walk. I’ll be back on the morrow by noon, no doubt.”
“How far is it to Lin Serr?” Berwynna said.
“Another half a day past the farm. Near, but too far to carry all our gear and Otho.”
The elderly dwarf was sitting on a flattish boulder nearby. Berwynna knelt down next to him. His face had turned bright red, and he was sweating profusely.
“Otho?” she asked. “Are you well?”
“No, of course I’m not!” Otho snarled. “Hauling a man around with ropes doesn’t fetch him much good, lass. I’m not a cursed fish.”
“Would it have been better for you to climb? I don’t think so.”
When