Teb nodded again and swallowed. Who among this group did Garit not trust, that he must lay a false trail? Hibben? Sabe? Surely not Lervey; he was only a boy, hardly older than Teb himself.
“It will be well if we leave a clue or two for Sivich’s trackers,” Garit said. “We have a length of chain for Lervey to wear when we camp, to drag through the dirt, for his feet are like in size to yours. If you will take off your tunic, Teb, I have a clean one for you in my pack. Yours will carry your scent with us, for the jackals.”
Teb stripped off his brown cloth tunic. It smelled pretty high, all right. He’d worn it a long time. He put on the leather one Garit offered. It was warmer and well made, though very big for him.
Garit settled his horse, which had begun to paw. “You’d best go, Teb. Climb from the saddle onto the boulders so you make no trail. Stay atop them along the ridge to the caves. Here, we’ve fixed you a pack. Rope, knife and some cord, food, candles and flint and a lamp. A waterskin.”
Teb climbed from the back of his horse up the boulder, then reached down for the pack and waterskin and slung them over his shoulder. Garit gave his hand a parting squeeze. He stood watching as the riders turned away and faded into the night, the sound of hooves growing quickly softer, then gone.
He turned and made his way alone toward Nison-Serth.
He would be safe in Nison-Serth. He moved toward it eagerly, feeling ahead of him in the darkness where, even in the starlight, shadows could be chasms. Nison-Serth would shelter him. He thought of his mother there, how she had loved its beauty, and it seemed to him that something of his mother beckoned to him now, a power of calm protection linked with the power of the caves.
Clouds blew across the moon, so he had to go more slowly in the dark and feel ahead carefully. He fingered the pack and felt the reassuring hard curve of the candle lamp inside. He longed to light it. He could imagine carrying the thick glass chimney before him to show him the way and to warm his cold hands.
But it would be a deadly beacon to draw Sivich. Well, if he lost his way or the going got too rocky and difficult, he would sleep among the boulders and go at first light, before anyone could see him from below. He imagined the great stone entrance of Nison-Serth, its rough triangular arch of pale stone, and tried to guess how far ahead it was. It would be hard to miss. He could picture the two standing boulders inside carved with the ancient pictures of animals and birds.
Twice he heard a noise like something slipping along behind him, and went cold with the thought of the jackals.
But they were drugged; surely they were drugged. He hurried ahead, scrambling and slipping. He had to climb higher now, around a steep drop. He could not remember this part of the cliffs near to Nison-Serth. He was tempted to light the lantern, shield it with his pack. He climbed again, then found a way down, afraid he would go too high and miss the entry. Just when he thought he had missed it, there it was, towering before him in the night, a pale vaulting arch pushing at the sky. He slipped inside.
He stood staring into the darkness, touching the carved boulders for reassurance; then he moved farther in, past them, feeling out into the darkness. He was not afraid here. He thought the caves welcomed him. He yawned, very sleepy suddenly. He groped on in the darkness, feeling the walls and remembering the curves, and the way he must go, knowing he could not light the candle until he was well away from the portal.
Deeper in, there were two tunnels so narrow and low that not even a jackal could get through. He hoped he still could. He and Camery had explored there, with ropes tied around their waists, so their parents could pull them out if they got stuck. Camery had called one the crawling tunnel, because you could go on hands and knees, and the other the wriggling tunnel, where you went belly-down, pressed in by the stone. He did not look forward to that, but it would stop any jackal.
Chapter 5
Teb knelt, found a candle in the pack by feel and fitted it into the lamp, then struck flint. The cave walls leaped and twisted around him in the flickering light. He clamped on the glass chimney, then pushed deeper into the grotto. But at the great cave he paused. He knew he must stop here, must see the painted animals.
He shone his light in and saw them leap up as if they had just sprung to life, the rearing black unicorn seeming to paw and turn, the pale foxes to slip deeper into the stone. Even in the paintings, the animals’ intelligence showed clearly. The way they held themselves, their expressions, showed they were quite aware of their places in time, in the world, and in the scheme of life. The sentient, speaking animals were aware of death, too, his mother had said, and so were capable of understanding the meaning of all life. The ordinary animals, living only for the moment, did not deal with such meanings, and knew death only at the instant it struck them.
Teb thought he would like to sleep in here, among the pictures of these knowing creatures. But he went on. He turned from the great cave reluctantly, robing the animals in darkness once more, and went quickly, deeper in, toward the crawling tunnel. When he reached it he tied the pack and waterskin to rope, and tied that around his waist so they would drag behind him. He went into the low hole on his hands and knees, pushing the lamp ahead.
Crawl and push, crawl and push, the lamp a yellow pool drawing him on. He thought of the other children who had crawled here, generations gone, before there was need to flee from soldiers, children playing tag with the foxes. He was through at last and pushing past a row of small den caves; then his light found the mouth of the wriggling tunnel. How small it looked, so very low.
He lay down full length, pushed the lamp ahead, and slid in. It was tight. He had grown. He wriggled and pushed, and dragged himself ahead, the walls pressing in. He could get stuck here. He could panic as Camery had panicked once.
He was soon very hot and uncomfortably thirsty. He could not reach behind him for the waterskin. He pushed deeper; the stone pressed his shoulders and arms. He began to sweat under the weight of the stone. He wanted to thrust it away, pushing at it with his elbows, sweating harder, his heart pounding; then at last he lay still.
But he must go on. The middle was the smallest; it couldn’t be much farther. He inched forward, squeezing, his clothes catching on the stone. So hot, the walls pressing in and in . . . Sweat ran down inside the heavy leather tunic and matted his hair. He pushed ahead an inch, another inch. Why had he come this far? He could never back up, never. He was trapped here. He wanted to scream out and pound with his fists but could hardly move his arms.
Then suddenly his outstretched hands felt the walls give way, felt only space as the tunnel ended; and with one final, straining shove, he shot out into the free, open cave.
He stood up, sucking in air, then stretched tall. He untied the pack and waterskin and drank, then stripped off the hot tunic. He pulled off his boots and pants, working them free of the chain. He stood naked and free, and only then able to breathe again, fully.
Then very carefully, to see if he could, he slid into the tunnel again, feet first, slipped back a little way, then out again. Yes, it was easier naked. Scratchy, though. But he knew he could get back all right, with his clothes off. He took up the light and followed it into the first of the small den caves. Here he drank again, then began to shiver in the cave’s chill. He pulled on his clothes and lay down with his head on the pack. It was then he remembered Garit’s note and pulled it from his pocket. He held it close to the flame, but the words were only rows of marks. He picked out his own name, nothing more. What if his life were to depend on his ability to read such a message?
He was nearly asleep when he thought he should blow out the candle, but knew he could not sleep in the pitch dark that night, even if fire ate air. Besides, there were small open portals in the caves higher up, and all these caves were connected. He turned over, sprawling on the cold stone floor, and gave in at last to sleep.