At which, with a sudden straightening of his hips, his companion pushed himself off the cliff, dropped into the black, like a feet-first dive into ink, then a moment later rose out of it, into the firelight, soaring now beside them, sailing now above them — with a triumphant hoot that Qualt had never heard before!
After that, Qualt and his companion both were given lots of attention.
Naä ran — well beyond the camp, now… still waiting for footsteps behind her, wondering at the fact that, somehow, she was still alive, to flee, to run, to escape — from her own absurd and dangerous plan. She took long breaths with her mouth wide, to make as little sound as possible. Ienbar’s knife was still in her belt. She still held Rimgia’s shawl at her neck — and only an hour later, in the woods at the other side of the village, did she realize that she had gone beyond the town as well. She was going up a slope: this way, she realized, would take her toward the quarry where the stone workers went to hew in the day.
Leave this village, she thought. I am a singer! (In the dark, she clutched the knife hilt till it hurt her hand, till it bruised the undersides of her knuckles, till it stung with the salt on her palm.) I am no woman for this sort of thing, whatever this sort of thing was — killing on the sly, making brainlessly heroic rescues. A bit wildly she thought: I could make a ballad out of what I’ve already done today and tonight and have the satisfaction of knowing no one will ever believe it! You may have lost Rahm. But you saved Rimgia. Reasonably, you can’t do more. So go! Go on — !
Which is when her foot went into the ditch — and with the shooting pain, she turned, she fell. I’ve probably twisted my ankle, she thought. She got herself free, stepped gingerly on it — it didn’t hurt that much. But in ten minutes, or when next she got off it, certainly then the throbbing that precluded walking would begin.
From somewhere, the moon (that, earlier, Uk had expected to light his way into town), rose with its crescent of illumination to light Naä’s way through the woods. The underbrush tried to slow her, but she hurried on. Then, at the height of another slope, brush gave way to grasses and trees — one of the pear orchards above the village. She started out across it, still cursing her foolhardiness, and shivering when she thought of the mad-luck that had let her get this far.
She shivered again, though the night had grown warmer — and was of the sort that, any other evening, would have been pleasant.
Between moonlit trees, in a small space a few yards to her left, Naä saw dark forms stretched on the grass. More corpses, was her first thought. Even up here…?
Nothing particularly happened to change her mind; but she decided to go closer. Would it be villagers she knew? When she was a yard away, it occurred to her that they might be sleeping soldiers the Myetrans had stationed — which was when one raised on an arm and whispered, “Who art thou …?” in a voice that, even as it started chills on her back, she recognized.
“Abrid…?” she asked the shadowed figure.
“Who art thou…?” He repeated.
She told him; “It’s Naä!”
The moon had leached all red from his braids, leaving them near the gray they were after his work day in the quarry, so that one could see his father in his face…
“Rimgia!” she heard the boy whisper, leaning toward the other sleeping figure. “It’s Naä!”
A moment on, Naä crouched between the two youngsters, demanding: “But what are you doing here — ?”
“Thou saidst I should get Abrid,” Rimgia whispered sleepily. “I did. We came here — to hide.”
“But they’ll find you, if they look for you!”
Rimgia sat cross-legged now, rocking backward and forward a little, clearly exhausted. “Why didst thou come up here?”
“To bring you your shawl,” Naä said, shortly. She tugged the printed cloth from her shoulder. It had gotten torn several more times. Naä’s legs and arms were scratched; and she was still waiting for the ghost of the pain to reassert itself from when she had gone into the muddy ditch — but that was long enough back so that, if it hadn’t started to pain her yet, then maybe she hadn’t really twisted her ankle at all. She laughed at the thought that luck could go with you as easily as against (the escape seemed beyond luck; like the luck of being born at all) — and tossed the cloth toward the girl; who simply looked at it, where it landed in the grass, tented in three places on stiff stalks.
Naä said: “It got a bit messed up, I think.” Then, simply, she laughed. “I’m so glad to see you, girl — I’m so glad to see you both!”
Abrid was squatting now. He said: “Naä, nobody will find us up here!”
“I found you,” Naä said. “And I wasn’t even looking! You’ve got to go much further. And really hide this time. But the two of you, together!”
Rimgia raised both hands to her neck, rubbing. “Naä, how did you get away? What happened — why did you come here? Where are you going — ?”
“Get away? It was dumb luck. What happened? I’ll tell you the next time we see each other. Where am I going? I — ” and she stopped, because she couldn’t bring herself to say: I’m terrified and I’m running away…
Then Abrid asked: “Where is thy harp?”
Naä looked down at the knife in her hand, its blade black as water. For the first time in many minutes she relaxed her fingers; the pain bloomed like a hot glow around her fist as her fingers loosened on the handle. “I …I put my harp away for a while. It’s not a time for singing. Look, you two must keep going — you must get miles from the village. As if you’re on a wander together. And then you must hide, not anywhere you’ve ever hidden before. But somewhere new.” Slowly, the glow went out. “And so must I — ”
“You’ll go with us?” Rimgia demanded, leaning forward now, her eyes, for a moment, bright in the moon. “I don’t know whether I — ”
But then Rimgia’s eyes turned away, up toward the sky. Abrid was looking, too.
Like a vast and strangely shaped leaf, a figure crossed the moon. Then another. And then another — going in the other direction. A cloud’s tendril touched the crescent. Another flying form swooped below it.
“They scare me,” Abrid said, dropping back on his buttocks, his crossed feet coming down loudly in the grass. He hugged his knees in tightly, looking up. Half a dozen of the creatures moved in the sky. He spoke in a whisper. “Everyone’s always been afraid of them …”
“Dost thou think they can see us?” Rimgia asked. “There’re so many frightening things around — I’ve heard of creatures which can weave a man into a web and suffocate him; and lions that roam the level lands; and the Winged Ones — ”
“I wish thou wouldst sing a song for us now,” Abrid said.
“I don’t have my harp,” Naä said shortly. “And the Myetrans, I’m afraid, have stolen my voice for a while.”
Again she looked at the knife. Again she looked at the sky. “You two,” she said, “at least get out of the orchard here and back somewhere in the woods. And hide! I have to go — ”
“Where art thou going?” Rimgia asked, now on her knees, now rocking back to get her feet under her. She stood.
“I think,” Naä said, “I’m going back to town. Again.” “Naä—?”
For the singer had abruptly turned.
She turned back again. “Yes — ?”
Rimgia bent to pick up the shawl. “Thank you!” “For going back?”
“For trading places with me!”
Naä laughed. Then she started again through the trees. If they’ve stolen my voice from me, she thought as she entered the woods to descend the slope, I must steal something from them in return. But what can it be that they’ll sorely, sorely miss. ?