"Well?" Danae asked impatiently as he hesitated in indecision. "What're we waiting for?"
"Just relax," Ravagin growled back at her. "We're not on any schedule here." Gritting his teeth, he picked up the largest sheath knife available—an ordinary one, unfortunately, not a target-seeking watchblade—and his own personal favorite, a scorpion glove. Both weapons went onto his belt; scooping up another firefly and a prayer stick, he slammed the locker closed and started down the Tunnel. "Come on," he called over his shoulder.
She caught up with him within a few steps. "Here," he said, thrusting the extra firefly into her hand.
"You might as well have your own light."
"Thank you," she said, sounding almost subdued.
Ravagin glanced at her, noting with mild surprise the tightness in her face. "You getting nervous?"
"Me? No. Why?"
He felt his lip twitch. "Never mind."
The half of the Tunnel they were in now was exactly the same length as that on Threshold's side of the telefold, but already Ravagin could smell the subtle aromas of Shamsheer's plant life wafting through the passageway toward them. It brought back memories, not all of them pleasant, of all the visits he'd made to this world. I'm getting old, he thought morosely. Only thirty-eight, and already I'm getting old.
The curved section of the Tunnel came to an end and they started up the slight slope toward the mouth. After the relative darkness the light pouring through the opening ahead was blindingly bright, but by the time they actually reached it their eyes had had sufficient time to adjust. Ravagin, a cautious step in the lead, they stepped through onto Shamsheer.
Danae gasped, a long exhalation of pure wonder Ravagin had heard from countless clients over the years. "Ravagin," she breathed. "It's beautiful."
He nodded silently, drinking in the view himself with unashamed eagerness. There was never a mood so low, or an anger so burning, that this first view of Shamsheer's countryside couldn't make a severe dent in it in short order. The brilliant blue sky, the equally brilliant flowers and plants dotting the green hills surrounding the Tunnel site, the darting insects and trilling birds—it was a section of paradise transplanted onto another world.
For several minutes they just looked about them, Danae moving a few steps away from the Tunnel mouth at one point to peer northward at the Maiandros River wending its twisted path across the landscape. "Beautiful," she repeated, turning in a slow circle with almost child-wide eyes taking it all in. "Is all of Shamsheer like this?"
"Most of the countryside sections are," he said absently, doing his own three-sixty turn with something other than sightseeing in mind. To the south and east, the Harrian Hills rose up in a halfcirle around the Tunnel mouth—good visual protection from the villages around Castle Numanteal to the east, but also ideal hiding places for anyone bent on ambush.
But if anyone was up there, he wasn't giving his presence away. "I'm sorry," Ravagin said, suddenly realizing Danae was speaking again. "What did you say?"
"I was asking how far away Castle Numanteal was," she repeated.
"It's about ten kilometers east-northeast as the birdine flies," he told her.
"Over all those hills?"
He snorted gently. "Don't worry—no one has to walk anywhere on Shamsheer that they don't want to. And you're right; let's get moving."
Taking one last look around, he pulled the prayer stick from his belt and raised it to his lips. "I pray thee, deliver unto me a sky-plane."
Chapter 5
For a long minute nothing happened. Danae kept her eyes on the eastern sky, watching for the transport Ravagin had just ordered. But aside from a sprinkling of birds, nothing seemed to be moving over that way. Might not have any available at the castle just now, she thought.
Reconstructing the map of this part of Shamsheer in her mind, she searched it for the next nearest place a sky-plane might be kept.
"Here it comes," Ravagin announced, pointing northward.
Danae turned and shaded her eyes. Sure enough, a tiny rectangular shape was skimming the treetops directly toward them. Visualizing her map again... "From the village of Phamyr?" she asked, frowning.
"Probably," Ravagin nodded. "It's closer than Castle Numanteal."
"Pretty small place to have any extra sky-planes on hand, isn't it? I thought it only had a population of
—"
"Size doesn't make any difference," he interrupted with the same forced patience she'd heard in the Tunnel. "A sky-plane sitting idle is available for use by anyone—pure and simple. They're one item of property no one owns."
The sky-plane was a lot faster than Danae had expected it to be, and barely two minutes later it settled to the ground in front of them... and she found that the drawings and descriptions she'd seen of this machine had indeed been completely accurate.
It was the spitting image of a flying carpet.
Two meters by perhaps three, its upper surface apparently rough-woven and decorated by intricate designs and arabesques, its edge sporting a delicate fringe, it could have come straight out of the old Earth myths. And just like those flying carpets, it had nothing remotely resembling safety restraints.
Or, for that matter, any kind of control mechanism.
Ravagin had already seated himself cross-legged near the sky-plane's center. "Any time you're ready," he said, cocking an eyebrow up at her.
Swallowing, she stepped gingerly onto the carpet and sat down behind him. It yielded to her weight just like ordinary cloth would have, and she had to force herself to remember that visitors to Shamsheer had been using these things safely for over a century. To say nothing of the world's inhabitants themselves, of course, who'd been using them a lot longer.
"Sky-plane: to Kelaine City," Ravagin said... and without so much as a lurch, the carpet stiffened around her and lifted smoothly into the sky.
Carefully, Danae let out the breath she'd been holding and concentrated on Ravagin's back. Never before in her life had she suffered even a twinge of acrophobia... but never before had she been five hundred meters up on something that had no business flying in the first place. Licking her lips, she tried another calming breath and kept her eyes away from the blue sky surrounding them on all sides.
"How're you doing?" Ravagin called over his shoulder.
"Fine," she said, too quickly.
His head twisted around for a look. "Yeah, you look fine," he growled. "Your profile said you didn't have any fear of heights."
"They never tested me on an open-air rug," she returned tightly.
He sighed. "You didn't believe the info packet either, huh? Amazing how many don't. All right: stick your hand over the edge of the sky-plane."
"What?" she said.
"You heard me. Reach out over the edge."
She opened her mouth to say no... and then clamped it shut. If she could fight her father, she could fight this, too. "All right." She reached gingerly out... and right where the fringe began ran into a solid wall.
An invisible wall, but no less real for that. She poked at it again and again, trying different spots along the side and rear edges of the sky-plane, eventually building up enough courage to put some real muscle into her jabs. Nothing.
"You can try kicking it, if you want to, or even poking my knife at it," Ravagin offered when she finally gave up. "Wouldn't bother the field at all—whoever designed these things had a healthy respect for safety. I'd have thought the lack of wind up here would've clued you in."