The ice turns from azure to sapphire. The Sun is on Her way down. The Lex requires that we return to the surface by the final horn of the evening, or stay down here all night. Something I definitely don’t want to do. So I throw my axe and boots deep into the ice and begin the long haul upwards.
That’s when I see it. Just off to my right, there’s a grey shadow deep in the ice. Can I reach it on this rope? Or will I have to reposition my fixed line in the morning to get a better look? I want to examine and stake it today if it looks promising. Tomorrow will be more crowded with other Testors down here, and my chance could be lost.
Using my axe and boots, I claw my way horizontally across the slick surface. It’s an advanced maneuver, a dangerous one that could leave me swinging like a pendulum across the razor-edged ice wall if I’m not careful. I reach the shadow just as my rope reaches the end of its tether. Reaching into my pack, I grab the naneq given to me by Lukas. The small lamp, he cautioned, was the only one I should use in the crevasse; a larger, hotter lamp might melt and destabilize the ice wall. With shaking hands, I light a flame and then to the wick. Perching on a small ledge underneath the shadow, I hold naneq close to it.
At first, I think the shadow is simply dark ice containing the residue of some long-ago terrain. But when I hold the naneq closer, I see that a heavy layer of new, clear ice covers a large, inky form deep within the ice wall. An object appears to be imbedded far down in the wall’s reaches.
Even though I know time runs short, I must lay Claim to this place. I take out four more Claim stakes, those that will mark the exact spot of my dig. As I carefully drive the fourth, and final, wooden stake into the ice wall, the first horn of evening sounds. I have to start my ascent. Dozens of Testors have missed the last horn and spent their last night on His Earth in a crevasse on the long end of a sealskin rope.
I begin my climb back up, but I have underestimated my exhaustion. Each time I throw my axe into the ice, it feels heavier than the last. My bear-claw boots feel as heavy as the bears from which they came. The light grows dim, and the opening seems like it will never draw near. I’ve been counting the ticks since I started my ascent, and I don’t think I have enough left to reach the surface. I don’t want to die on this wall. But even my fear is lost in this numb invisible weight.
Above me and to the left, I see the bottom of Jasper’s boots. He’s closer to the surface than I am, but he hasn’t yet reached the opening. As I watch him scale the ice, he peers down. And immediately belays toward me.
“Don’t, Jasper. I can do it,” I whisper as loudly as I dare, without alerting the two Climbers who are posted near the rim. We both know the penalty for talking to another Testor, let alone helping one. As long as the Climbers can’t hear us, it might appear that Jasper has only backtracked. A strange choice, but not forbidden.
“You won’t make it by the final horn on your own.” He reaches my level, scuttles his way across the ice toward me, and stretches out his hand. “Come on.”
“No.” He’s right, but I can’t bear the thought of ruining Jasper’s chances simply because I don’t have the strength to reach the top in time, even if it means I won’t win. So I’d rather pretend to be annoyed with his offer of help and push him toward the surface with my refusal.
He stares at me, and says, “I’d rather spend the night down here with you than make it to the top alone. And I will do it. So, if that’s your choice …”
Before Jasper beat me to the flag, I would have chalked this behavior up to his seemingly unshakeable belief in the Lex’s command of chivalry. Now I’m not so sure. What are his motives in taking such a huge risk and helping me? Does he want to tell me something? Does he want to make sure I don’t win? I really don’t think he’d ever hurt me, but why is he trying to help me? Even though I’m uncertain about him at this tick, I have no choice but to accept his offer. I know what will happen if I dangle here all night.
I glance up at the Climbers, but oddly, neither is looking our way. Maybe the Gods are smiling down on us. Putting my doubts aside for a tick, I place my free hand in Jasper’s, and he hoists us both up toward the opening.
XX: Aprilus 8 Year 242, A.H.
When we near the surface, I drag myself the last stretch without Jasper’s help. Just as the final horn of evening sounds, I heave myself up and over the edge of the crevasse. I have made it. Barely. I lie on my back, staring up at the darkening sky. The Climbers were none the wiser.
“Rise, Testor,” the elder Scout calls out to me.
My entire body aches, but if a Scout tells you to get off the ground, you do it. Legs shaking and arms burning, I push myself up to stand before the Scouts’ lineup. Jasper is already on his feet. The Scouts don’t move. Clearly, we aren’t supposed to either. We are waiting for something, but as usual, no one tells us what. It’s maddening, particularly when my fate could hang in the balance.
In a few ticks, the two Boundary Climbers rise up out of the crevasse. They walk over to the elder Scout, and speak in hushed tones. My stomach churns. Are they reporting the Lex infractions Jasper and I just committed? Perhaps the Gods hadn’t blessed us with the Climbers’ ignorance, as I’d hoped. Perhaps they were just watching silently, waiting for us to break The Lex so they could report it.
As the Climbers take their place behind the Scouts, the elder Scout converses with the Scout to his right. I hold my breath until he speaks. “The first excavation day is over. You may return to your camps until the morning’s first horn.”
I feel like collapsing. Out of relief that our Lex-breaking will go unpunished. Out of exhaustion from my efforts in the crevasse. Out of despair that I will have to go through this grueling exercise again and again. Maybe all three.
Instead of slumping into the snow, what I really want to do, I gather my gear. As I squeeze my ropes, screws, harness, and boots into my now-heavy pack—with the rumors of sabotage I’ve heard over the years, I wouldn’t risk leaving them behind—I feel someone’s eyes on me. I glance over at Jasper, but he’s occupied with his own equipment. I look at the Scouts, but they are watching the Boundary workers tarping over the crevasse for the day. Even Scout Okpik is glaring elsewhere.
I’m about to chalk the feeling up to my imagination when I notice the Climbers. One of the two from the crevasse, recognizable by the shock of white running through his black hair, watches me. He doesn’t break my gaze as I’d expect. He pauses for a long tick, almost as if he’s making absolutely certain that I see his stare. Only then does he avert his eyes.
I’m perplexed by the peculiar exchange. Is the Climber sending me some Boundary message that only Lukas could help me interpret? Or was he trying to tell me that he witnessed the Lex-breaking by me and Jasper? If so, why didn’t he report it? What could be his possible motivation for protecting me? Or Jasper? I had thought it odd that neither Boundary Climber was looking our way at the critical moment, but I was so elated to get out of the crevasse that I didn’t give it more thought.
The Scouts gesture for our departure from the Testing Site, so I’m forced away from the Climber and away from my speculations. In the dying light, Jasper and I tromp through the snow toward camp. For a brief tick, we’re walking a fair distance from the Scouts and Climbers. Tempting the Gods, I risk a few quiet words.