Kneeling down closer to the edge, I study the patterns the way Lukas taught me. Down deep, the crevasse widens on the right side, which might indicate the formation of a natural chamber. Maybe a chamber surrounding a large object? It’s my best guess, and I decide to Claim it.
As I begin to stake out the area with the wooden posts specially prepared for this occasion, I hear a rumble in the distance. I stand up and turn to see three Testors arriving at the Testing flag. Even though they’re far off, I’m pretty sure it’s Aleksandr, Benedict, and Neils; I studied them in my mirror often enough over the past few siniks. The circle of Scouts breaks formation. I figure that they’re deciding who will record the Testors’ arrival as required by The Lex.
Jasper and I wait.
In the commotion, I notice that Jasper is trying to catch my eye. I ignore him, but he keeps clearing his throat. Although I’m confused and upset with him, I don’t want him to get caught Lex-breaking. I look around to make sure the Scouts aren’t watching me, and I meet his gaze.
With his eyes, he signals me to Claim the left side of the crevasse. That side is coated with water ice, a frozen liquid flow of water. That makes it a more treacherous climb than the right, where I’ve begun to stake. Should I switch based on Jasper’s advice? Can I trust him? Is he trying to help me or not? Before I commit to a course, I want to see where Jasper is going.
As the remaining ten Scouts encircle us again, he retrieves his wooden stakes from his pack and Claims a spot on the left side. Right where he told me to Claim. If I follow Jasper’s lead, I will be ignoring Lukas’s advice, which feels like a betrayal. But Lukas isn’t here to assess the crevasse, and neither is Eamon. And Jasper’s been training for this moment practically his whole life. I whisper a small prayer to the Gods, beseeching them to help me decide. Whose advice should I follow? Lukas’s or Jasper’s?
Abandoning my stakes, I creep around the crevasse again, studying the light and the ice in the Sun. Maybe She’ll give me some sort of a sign with one of Her rays. I linger near the area Jasper has Claimed. For the first time, I notice wavy patterns in the water ice of the sort Lukas had told me to look for. Maybe Jasper is correct. And anyway, if I think about it, would Jasper Claim the more dangerous side unless he truly believes more artifacts are buried within its walls?
Still torn, I decide to follow Jasper’s lead. I walk back to the crevasse’s right side, and bend down to pull out my stakes.
“Testor, replace those Claim stakes,” a voice behind me bellows.
I don’t need to turn. I recognize the voice. It’s the Scout from the other night.
Standing up, I turn around and face the Scout. Do I dare defy him? If I don’t, I’ll be stuck with the right side of the crevasse. I also know that if that Scout wants me to adhere to my initial right-hand Claim, I definitely want to Claim left.
The Scout spoke to me, so I can speak back. Voice quivering, I say, “The Lex says let no Claim be complete until the last of the twelve stakes is planted. I have only planted ten stakes, so it is within my Lex rights to remove them and replant them for my Claim.” Not many Testors have scrutinized The Lex as I have. It was a necessary step in convincing the Triad to permit my Testing, but I didn’t think I’d use that knowledge out here. I was wrong.
“That is not what The Lex says. In fact—”
“Scout Okpik, enough,” the elder Scout commands. I am startled not only by his harsh tone but the fact that he actually used the Scout’s name; Scouts typically refer to one another only by their title. Okpik is a Boundary name. I’ve never heard of a Boundary person becoming a Scout or even a Ring-Guard for that matter. How did Okpik manage to scale the walls that divide Boundary and Aerie?
The elder Scout continues, “The Testor is correct in her reading of The Lex. She is free to remove her stakes until the twelfth is planted.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say. Out of long habit, I start to bow deep in a Maiden curtsy, but I stop myself. Instead, I kneel back down to yank out my stakes before the Scouts change their minds. With Jasper’s help and Lukas’s guidance, I have made the correct decision, praise the Gods.
I finish staking out my Claim near the wavy patterns in the crevasse’s left wall. Then, I unpack my climbing gear. I’m nervous, but I try to put on a brave show for the Scouts who are watching. Especially Scout Okpik. We are into the second three Advantages now, and every move will be assessed and tabulated toward their final judgment. Not that Okpik will be racking up points in my favor.
Removing my beloved kamiks, I strap on my bear-claw boots and my harness. Checking the security of the ice near the top of the ice wall, I insert my primary and secondary ice screws into its face. I loop my sealskin rope through the screw-holes and into my harness. We wait for the Boundary Climbers to belay down into position, and then, axe in one hand and rope in the other, I start to lower myself into the blue darkness.
XIX: Aprilus 8 Year 242, A.H.
My courageous façade crumbles as soon as I’m out of the Scouts’ sight. I have never been so scared in my life. In the Taiga and Tundra I had my huskies. Now I am truly alone. Jasper’s nearness in his own Descent only adds to the solitude.
I know I have to kick off the chasm’s ice wall with the tip of my bear-claw boots to start my descent, but I’m immobilized with fear. What if my rope gets severed on a sharp ice point? What if I didn’t choose a solid enough surface for my ice screws? What if I’m not strong enough to slow my descent and I end up in the bottomless crevasse? Eamon died on the Ring in this exact sort of situation.
Lukas warned me that I might feel this way, even though I’m a naturally gifted climber. Nothing is like the Descent. He said that no matter how many ice climbs and descents we practiced on the bottom part of the Ring and the small ice formations within the Aerie, they would not substitute for the sensation of lowering myself into the crevasse’s near vertical ice walls. I think back on his teachings. I take a deep breath, whisper “believe,” and put the tip of my boots into the ice.
The kick back from the ice wall sends me flying down too fast, and I lose control of my sealskin rope. I don’t have a powerful enough grip, just as I’d feared. My slight build was a strength in the first three Advantages—sleds race faster with lighter loads—but down here, it’s a hindrance. Sheer strength—the kind hard-won by years of training—rules this phase of Testing. To stop my fall, I have to dig my bear-claw boots and my axe into the ice with all my might.
My heart beats wildly, and I feel like I might throw up. But I have to keep descending or I might as well head to the surface right now and offer my surrender—like so many in the Aerie want, including my mother.
I picture Eamon.
Using every bit of my strength, I kick back again and lower myself slowly down the ice wall, keeping a tighter grip on my sealskin rope than before. I think about one of Eamon’s journal entries, one that seems to have been written for me, for this moment. Never look up or down while climbing; pay attention to the present.
Instead of focusing on the terrifying depths below me, I study the wall right in front of me as I lower down into the crevasse. I spot a patch of white ice, with its dangerous trapped air bubbles, and manage to skirt it. I avoid a particularly sharp shelf in the water ice. I identify a qopuk beneath a light layer of snow cover, and choose another handhold. All the while, I look for some evidence of a chamber or cave or enclosure which might have formed around a large object when the Frozen Shores solidified in the Healing. Nothing.
Pausing periodically for a sip of water and a bite of dried fish from my pack, I map and graph the wall. That way, I will not waste valuable time in the days ahead by re-examining the same stretch of ice. I glance over at Jasper, going through the same exercise. I wonder if his heart is pounding as furiously as mine.