Three Hands for Scorpio (14 page)

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Authors: Andre Norton

BOOK: Three Hands for Scorpio
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I PULLED AT the loose tangle of thick cord that had been bound to the pack when Bina and I had shoved it through the opening. What use it might have now, I did not yet know, but it was the best tool I could think of.
“It cannot be long enough,” Bina protested. Cilla had dropped down, using her own supply sack as a backrest.
I was aware that her opening of the door had depleted her; I also knew that I was far from restored from the backlash of force encountered in my own adventure. All the same, I was sure that we had precious little time. Our escape must have been felt by whoever set the Ward within—breakage of a binding-spell can always warn the one who placed it. Without doubt, a search would be mounted for us, so if we got no farther while we could, it would mean swift end to our hard-won liberty.
Cilla's eyes, I could see, were closed. Roused now, she could do little to help herself. I made my hands into fists to still their shaking as best I could.
Zolan and Climber had gone this way, and that length of rope had been discarded as if our host had no use for it. Neither he nor the beast from the Dismals had been waiting for us. Thus there
was
a way either down or up.
I swayed as I stood there. The Dark—that Night of Nothingness my sisters had drawn me from—seemed to be lapping over the rim of the ledge to threaten me. I was forced to lower myself to the gritty rock as Cilla had done before me.
T
am and Cilla lay comatose on the ledge. Any further action must now be mine. First I squatted down opposite them and raided my supplies. I began by chewing, as a cow might a cud, a mouthful of dried trail meat. I could so nourish myself and explore for them at the same time.
Once more I crept carefully to the outer rim of the ledge, lying flat to get as far as was prudent. Though the moonlight made measurement difficult, I believed that we were perched far above the ground, which sloped away from the foot of the cliff.
A number of vines hung below, some reaching well above the earth where they were rooted. We had been shown two perils of the dense forest that shot a thick green tongue close to the cliff base. What dangerous surprises those upward-thrusting plants might produce we had no way of knowing.
The nearest one appeared to cling firmly to the rock for support. I needed better light to see clearly. Now I arose and moved to the section of wall to the left of the archway.
I could indeed get a clearer view of the cliff here, but the swell of its surface directly above discouraged any attempt to climb. If Zolan had been able to go there, he had used some method no longer available.
Still I continued to skirt the wall, my eyes searching anything above my reach. If only I knew more! If only the Powers we had uncovered here had been manifest when we had been able to ask aid from my mother or Duty!
It was scent that revealed the secret. Acuity of smell is one of a healer's most valued skills, as sickness can many times be detected by some odor given off by a patient. Medicaments too are often sorted by scent. Equally, though, this sensitivity can be a burden in places of strong reeks. Thus, according to training, healers spend as little time as possible where that sense may be nearly overpowered.
When I had attended Climber, I had learned his personal scent, covered as it had been by the blood of his wounds and a lesser odor, doubtless from the monstrous attacker. However, during the time he had been in my care, I had registered another scent—not only of healing-salves but also the cachet of the animal himself.
I moved closer to the wall. I might well have just overturned a flask of some potent liquid. Animals can produce such “markers” during their travels, to set signals along their ways, to signify their gender, to offer challenges. These scents are much stronger than the usual odor given off by a furred traveler.
Climber! Though I could not be truly sure of the identity of the beast that marked this particular stretch of stone, I felt my guess was correct. Zolan's companion had chosen to spray this area of cliff and not too long ago.
Why just here? There might be many reasons and some beyond human ken. However, some things render themselves more discernible to touch than sight, especially at night. Straining my arm upward as far as I could reach, I drew fingertips down the cliff surface. Aside from weather pittings I felt nothing. If any structure therein, whether portal or stairway, had been concealed by Warding, I could not sense it.
I located a damp spot, oily to the touch. The rightness of my guess was beyond doubt—the stone had been marked, and very profusely. Now I looked along to my left. Why should the animal set a mark if this place were not path or boundary?
Clouds scudded across the moon. Light was limited again. Only a black shadow at my feet caught my eye before darkness really closed in. I stooped to explore it with a hand.
This was no rope I grasped, but neither did a vine bear scales. Only some protection of the Great One saved me as the “vine” suddenly flipped over in
my hold. Instinctively I cracked it against the stone and flung the limp body from me, hardly able to believe I had been so unwary. A snake of sorts, perhaps so well matching a vine in its coloration as to fool its prey. I took a small step backward, but my foot hit a rough place and I lost my balance as the ledge shifted beneath me.
I fell on my back, momentarily as helpless as an overturned beetle. The moon was now completely veiled, and I dared not struggle to sit up, so close was I to the precipice.
Neither of the sleepers stirred until a squall rose from the ocean of shadow below, and brought a drowsy mutter from one of my sisters. A light floated up from those wooded depths. It leveled out a little above the ledge, then zigzagged its way toward us. No chance it was Zolan or Climber—neither could travel the air in such a fashion.
I levered myself up and scurried back to our impromptu camp, rousing Cilla and Tam with an urgent Send. A buzzing sounded, louder by far than any normal insect call. Darkness only intensified the feeling of danger.
“What is it?” The demand from Tam's direction was sharp with fear.
“A flier—?” Cilla answered hesitantly.
A flier indeed, yet not, I was certain, of the same breed that had slain the spider-thing. I could trace outlines just enough to tell that the newcomer must be insectile and I stooped, running my hands along the surface of the ledge, seeking, for lack of any other defense, a stone lying there. If we were to attempt to use the Talent, so soon after drawing deeply upon it, we could leave ourselves totally weaponless.
The thing did not aim directly at us, as I had expected. On our feet now, we retreated, still facing outward until the cliff backed us. The light-bearing air creature moved to the right, slowed, then alighted. As far as I could determine, it had come to rest against the cliff wall not far from where Climber had left his mark. A change had occurred there: in the growing dark I could see a bright cluster of small light-specks fanning outward.
We had won into a semicave through a well-like entrance; here now was a similar fissure in the ledge. Our visitor left its perch. With a fluttering of wings, it descended to the break. Its head bobbed up and down as might a tool wielded with precision. A series of clicks sounded, suggesting that its actions were loosing debris into the hole. At last, rather clumsily, it sought to face the cliff again.
Its two forefeet were clamped, as well as I could judge, on either side of
the bedewed wall, while its head, pear-shaped and crowned with whipping antennae, rested over the stain. By its movement, which I could only half see, I thought it might be tonguing—if lick it could—the “marker.” Whatever it did strengthened the scent I had detected earlier. It had no interest in us; the stony cliff held its whole attention.
We gathered together. Swiftly, by Send, I outlined my exploration. The hole drew us but we must contain our impatience until the creature with the curious taste had departed.
Time stretched out. The first pallor of dawn streaked the sky, illuminating our visitor more clearly. It possessed a rounded ball of a belly and lower body, a very slender rod of waist and beyond, a much smaller ball from which extended two very thin upper legs, one on either side, with thicker ones flanking them below. The lower pair folded to peak joints well above its upper portion. The head was very small compared to the rest, and neither eyes nor mouth could be discerned. However, a pair of furred antennae beat ceaselessly on the cliff.
With the increasing light of day, we could clearly see the opening on the ledge. Why we had not discovered signs of this during first careful inspection, I could only wonder. Had a Ward indeed been set, one that had been banished by the coming of the flyer? Or had my touch broken it earlier without my knowledge or any planned attempt at doing so? That did not matter now—what was important was its existence.
I pushed past Cilla toward the cliff wall. When would an end come to the winged thing's nuzzling of the tainted rock? I leaned against the cliff, fingers working. A blast of the Power that had served us before might clear our way. My fingers twisted open; then, by force of will, I curled them palmward. This was like being caught up in a dream—such a dream as I had long feared might be a key to unlock a portion of the mind better kept under control.
Now that I sighted the night creature more clearly, my curiosity grew. The flier had made no move against us, and to kill where no attack was threatened was against all we had been taught. A ruthless use of Power was a step down the Dark Path.
I flexed fingers once more. The sense of immediacy that had bullied us since Zolan and his beast left us was with me again. Almost I could hear—or was it feel?—a sharp voice repeating, “Cilla, Cilla!” as I had often been summoned when too long at a project.
The eater—or licker—raised its head at last. Its antennae were now scraping the edge of the fissure. Proceeding out on the ledge, it turned its body, the lower part of which now appeared very swollen, and backed once more toward the crevice.
That huge abdomen, its light dimmed to a faint gleam, seemed to contract and expand several times. From beneath the rounded bottom fell a green orb about the size of a ball of wool prepared for the weaver. Then one of the back legs kicked, and the ball rolled to the edge and fell into the wellcrack. Six more of what I now recognized as eggs followed to disappear so. Its duty to the species done, the creature spread its wings and rose gracefully from the ledge to fly toward the forest from which it had come.
Perhaps imprudently, we felt sure that our problem had been offered a solution. We emptied Zolan's pack, dividing its contents among us. I brought out the small stone knife and began sawing the lacing of the bag in such a way that I soon had a long strip of well-cured hide. This I rolled and fit into the top of my carrier. Though I had no really workable tools, I was not minded to waste anything now.
The sun was well up when we agreed we were ready to go and approached the opening through which the eggs had rolled. Somehow we were not really surprised to discover rough hand- and footholds descending along one wall to a lighted space below. I held out a hand to test if this possible way of escape held Wards. I was not alone in doing so. As I took this precaution, Tam and Bina did likewise.
No barrier rose against us. Tam swung over and made use of the aid offered by the niches. She had not reslung her pack, but left it above where Bina knotted all three together with the rope we had earlier found inadequate.
Bina waved to me to follow Tam when a signal came from below that our sister had safely reached bottom. I set myself to a slow descent, testing each hold as I went; I have never found myself at ease with heights.
Bina lowered our supply-sacks to us. With more light I looked up to see if the eggs had found a resting place. From this point they could be seen on the wall at about my height. They had lost some of their roundness and appeared to have become plastered to the stone.
“This place,” I said slowly, “did not show when we first searched the ledge. Was it Warded? If so, what destroyed the Ward?”
Bina looked at the right hand she held up into the morning light. “Perhaps any such barrier was destroyed by my discovery of Climber's ‘mark.'
Who knows? How greatly are the Dismals guarded—and by whom?” We could make no answer to that.
Not too far away, a stream gurgled out between two wide slabs of rock. Toward that we veered, realizing acutely just how long it had been since we had slaked our thirst. We refilled our water skins and set about to see more of what lay around us, seeking any visible trail we could follow.
We soon emerged into the open before a thick wall of trees and discovered a carpet of long springy grass. For some reason, the urge for action that had driven us lifted from me. I commented on that discovery, only to be assured by Tam and Bina that they also shared my sense of relief. We did not, however, quite relax our vigilance, remembering the unknown perils that might be concealed by the giant vegetation.
Soon Tam discovered a sign, which we agreed was probably left as a trail marker. It lay along the bottom of the cliff and ahead of that the way appeared open, unchoked by tree or vine, bush or rock. It was a stone, wider at bottom than top, standing upright. Along one side were markings, half erased at places. These carvings bore close likeness to some found on the walls of Zolan's cave fortress.
We gnawed at the hard rations we carried. The salty taste of the meat sticks overrode the sweetness of the clumps of what must be dried fruit. It became harder and harder to think of shouldering our packs and getting to our feet to push on. Instead, I sat watching the flow of the stream, noting the fleeting shadows below the surface that suggested some sort of aquatic life.
AFTERWARD I KNEW right well what had drained from us our will to travel. We were being lulled as weary children might be quieted to take a nap. Except—
The pouch at my belt that held the light-gem suddenly shattered my sleepy contentment with a burst of warmth, though I was not aroused to the point of uneasiness. Overhead the sun no longer shone so directly, and tree shadows crept towards our halting place.
For a moment or two the strange shapes cast by the trees held my stilldrowsy attention. Then—I must have cried out as I grabbed the top of the
gem bag, jerking it away from close contact with my body, though my hands were not safe from that blast either. Fire had blazed from it—yet not any fire such as sprang from wood offering comfort and service. This, instead, took the place of a rousing war-horn and jerked me to my feet. Bina and Cilla blinked up at me.
I had no time to alert them. That was denied me as if they were warded by a power as strong as any my mother and Duty working together could raise.
All contentment disappeared. I wheeled to face the post of stone. I was summoned, my body controlled by the will of another. And, for this moment at least, I was powerless to fight its urging.
Past the carved stone I moved, and, as I put it behind me, Bina and Cilia were—gone! I was alone. Suddenly my mind was whelmed by a tide of memories that flooded in, carefully sorted and drawn from my past.
Afraid? Yes, I, Tamara of the House of Scorpy, was afraid. Still, that emotion was deadened. I was very aware of all about me, but it was as if I were viewing a series of pictures, seeing things not a part of my real life. My pace was now near a trot as the compulsion on me tightened.
The bright, intense colors, the sharpness of tree and leaf, began to dull. Some of the drabness of the stone to my right seeped out to cloud my path. Yet, in an odd way, as all I passed seemed to fade, within me grew a sharpness of other sight. Did I “see” what did not exist? There was no way I might prove or disprove that. However, I was aware of figures who might have risen out of ground as growing vegetation, or else were released by curdling pillars of the very air.
They lacked my height, being instead short-limbed, the flesh and bones of their extremities heavy and stumpy. The trunks of their bodies were overthick, their shoulders very wide. And—they had no faces! No feature existed above the spread of those shoulders. Glints of color, which might have issued from gems, a suggestion of shadowy garments. Not beasts—of a certainty, not of clean animal-kind-rather, these were beings apart.
The North was rich with strange stories of things no one of our day had ever seen: dwellers in mountains and hills, who often teased and tweaked mankind for their own entertainment. I thought now, when I caught a clear look at this company matching pace with me, that I did recognize some as emerging out of one such tale.
Save for an area about ten paces around me, I could no longer see anything clearly. Somehow, though, I was not fearful anymore but increasingly impatient. I progressed toward some goal of immense importance. I
wanted
, pressed by all the emotion in me, to arrive. That need became a punishing lash to set me into a run with no care for the way beneath me or any difficulty awaiting me ahead.

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