To Lie with Lions - Dorothy Dunnett [203]
Kathi said, ‘Yes, Anselm. Come.’
‘I must just –’ Sersanders said. He began walking forward. He hadn’t even taken a pole. Nicholas watched him, his hand at his throat.
‘Well stop him!’ said Kathi, with exasperation.
Glímu-Sveinn had begun to urge his pony forward. Nicholas said, ‘No. Give me a pole and some rope.’
‘Why?’ said Benecke.
‘I’ve found it!’ shrieked Sersanders suddenly. They could see him up to his knees in soft snow, attempting to dig something out with his hands. As he spoke, he half sank out of sight and hauled himself out again. Then he started tugging again.
Nicholas began walking towards him very slowly. Behind him, Benecke was using his one useful arm to detain Kathi. Benecke said, projecting his voice, ‘If you pull anything out, you could dislodge all the snow piled above you.’
‘What?’ said Sersanders. His face, red in the whiteness, was beaming. ‘It’s the bear! Unblemished pelt! Come and help me!’
His voice echoed. Nicholas listened, and swore. Once this had happened to him, in the Alps. Correction: he had made it happen. This time, the hapless Sersanders yelled, and a rumble answered him from over his head. Nicholas uncoiled his rope and hurled one end as far as he could towards Sersanders who, staring up, noticed and caught it. He had wrapped it once round his wrist when the avalanche fell.
It pulled Nicholas with it. He felt the drag on his arm as Sersanders was tossed down the slope far ahead of him, and then himself lost control of the rope under a shower of angular rubble. He lay, mildly concussed and empty-handed until the movement and noise died away, and then threw off the snow on his shoulders and lifted himself cautiously up to look round. Behind, Benecke was still holding Kathi but the Icelander, gripping rope, was on all fours and crawling forward. He was carrying two planks of wood.
Nicholas said, ‘Throw them. I’ll find him.’ He didn’t have to speak very loudly.
Glímu-Sveinn said, ‘What is that?’
The knot was sodden: Nicholas had to drag off one glove, and pull the thing over his head. Then he let the stone hang, without answering. The vast, heavy silence had fallen again. It made it easier to concentrate, and also more difficult. The pendulum started to swing. Nicholas said, ‘He is over there. Give me a board. Follow me if you like.’ Behind him, he heard Kathi’s low voice, talking to Benecke. He followed the pendulum. His hand was so numb that he felt none of the cord’s violent friction. He was confident of success. The avalanche had been brief, and Sersanders had been braked by the rope and couldn’t be deeply buried. They had to find him quickly, that was all.
Skilled at moving over the snow, Glímu-Sveinn led, and Nicholas followed, articulating directions. The pendulum had no doubts about where it was going. At the place where its swing was most violent, Glímu-Sveinn carefully pushed down his pole, and met resistance. Together he and Nicholas dug, and Adorne’s nephew was there, half stifled and shocked, and with an ankle-bone snapped, but alive.
Returned to his horse, wrapped in wadmol, he sat with chattering teeth while Nicholas faced Glímu-Sveinn. ‘What was that?’ said the Icelander. The man from Danzig, mounted again, was gazing thoughtfully at them both, while Kathi bent over her brother, padding and binding his ankle. Nicholas could not see her expression.
Nicholas said, ‘It was a pendulum. It’s often used overseas to find water. Sometimes it can find people too.’
‘Anyone can do it?’ the Icelander asked.
‘If they have the knack. Glímu-Sveinn, there is someone else under the snow.’
Kathi looked up. ‘Bodies,’ the Icelander said.
‘No. Someone living. It could be the farmer, or Sigfús. But it would take longer to find him.’
‘Why?’ said Benecke.
‘I knew Sersanders,’ Nicholas said. He turned to Glímu-Sveinn. ‘How near is your home? Could you take the others there, and come back for me?’
The pale blue eyes stared at his. ‘There is nothing there. This young man needs attention. We must go.’
‘There is something there,’ Nicholas said. ‘Someone. A man.’
Kathi