The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 79

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people survived?"

"Aly, Salin and Kif escaped. They dived out of their huts and ran off

into the darkness as soon as the shooting started. I have told them to

get ready to leave right away. I have spoken to one of the senior

priests. They will take care of the burial of the dead, and will report

to the authorities as soon as they are able. But they agree that the

attack was aimed at us, and that we are still in danger, and that we

should get away as soon as possible."

Within the hour they were ready to start. Nicholas had decided to leave

all the camping equipment and Boris's personal gear in the charge of

Jali Hora. The mules were lightly loaded, and he planned to make a

forced march out of the gorge.

The abbot had given them an escort of monks to accompany them to the top

of the escarpment. "Only a truly Godless man would attack you while you

are under the protection of the crosss' he explained.

Nicholas found the dried hide and head of the striped dik-dik still in

the skinning shed. He rolled it into a bundle and strapped it on to the

load atop one of the mules, and then gave the order for the attenuated

caravan to move out.

Tamre had insinuated himself into the group of monks who were escorting

the party. He kept close behind Royan as they set off up the trail, with

the lamentations and farewells of the monastic community following them

for the first mile.

It was hot in this brutal midday. There was no movement of air to bring

relief, and the stone walls of the valley sucked up the heat of that

awful sun and spewed it back over them as they toiled up the steep

gradients. It dried their sweat even as it oozed through their pores,

leaving patterns of white salt crystals on their skins and clothing. The

muleteers, spurred on by fear, set a killing pace, trotting behind their

beasts and prodding their testicles with a sharpened stick to keep them

moving at their best pace.

By midafternoon they had retraced the morning's travel and once more

reached the putative site of Taita's dam wall. Nicholas and Royan took a

few.minutes'breather to dip their heads in the river and sluice the salt

and sweat from their faces and necks. Then they stood together above the

falls and took a brief farewell of the chasm in which lay all their

hopes and dreams.

"How long until we return?"she asked.

"We cannot afford to leave it too long," he told her.

"Big rains are due soon, and the hyenas have got the scent and are

crowding in. From now on every day will be precious, and every hour we

lose may be crucial."

She stared down into the chasm and said softly, "You haven't won yet,

Taita. The game is still afoot."

They turned away together and followed the mules up the trail towards

the escarpment wall. That evening they did not stop at the traditional

campsite beside the river, but pressed on several miles further until

darkness forced a halt. There was no attempt to build a comfortable

camp.

They dined on cakes of injera bread dipped in the wat pot that the monks

had carried with them. Then Nicholas and Royan spread their bedrolls

side by side on the stony earth and, using the mule packs as pillows,

fell into exhausted, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, while the mules were being loaded in the pre-dawn

darkness, they drank a bowl of strong bitter black Ethiopian coffee.

Then they started out along the trail again.

As the rising sun lit the sheer walls of the escarpment ahead of them

they seemed close enough to touch, and Nicholas remarked to Royan, as

she swung along longlegged beside him, "At this pace we should reach the

foot of the escarpment this afternoon, and there is a good chance that

we might sleep tonight in the cavern behind the waterfall."

"That means we could cut a couple of days off the journey and reach the

trucks some time tomorrow."

"Possibly," he said. "I'll be glad to get out of here."

"It feels like a trap," Royan agreed, looking at the rocky, broken

ground that rose on either hand, hemming them into the narrow bottom of

the Dandera river. "I have been doing a bit of thinking, Nicky."

"Let's hear your conclusions."

"No conclusions, only some disturbing thoughts. Suppose somebody at

Pegasus who can understand them is now in possession of our rubbings and

Polaroids. What will their reaction be if they know how much progress we

have made in the search?"

"Not -very happy thoughts," he agreed. "But on the other hand there is

not much we can do about any of that until we get back to civilization,

except keep our eyes wide.

open and our wits about us. Hell, I haven't even got the little Rigby

rifle. We are a flock of sitting ducks."

Aly, the muleteers and the monks seemed to be of the same opinion, for

they never slackened the pace. It was midday before they called the

first brief halt to brew coffee and to water the mules. While the men

lit fires, Nicholas took his binoculars from the mule pack and began to

climb the rock slope. He had not covered much ground before he glanced

back and saw Royan climbing after him. He waited for her to catch up.

"You should have taken the chance to rest," he told her severely. "Heat

exhaustion is a real danger."

I don't trust you going off on your own. I want to know what you are up

to."

"Just a little recce. We should have scouts out ahead, not just go

charging blindly along the trail like this. If I remember correctly from

the inward march, some of the ound lies just ahead of us. Lord knows

what we worst gr may run into."

They went on upwards, but it was not possible to reach the crest for a

sheet of unscalable vertical cliff barred their way. Nicholas chose the

best vantage point below this barrier, and glassed both slopes of the

valley ahead of them.

The terrain was as he had remembered it. They were approaching the foot

of the escarpment wall and the ground was becoming more rugged and

severe, like the swell of the open ocean sensing the land and rising up

in alarm before breaking in confusion upon the shore. The trail followed

the river closely. The cliffs hung over the narrow aisle of ound that

made up the bank, sculpted by wind and gr weather into strange, menacing

shapes, like the battlements of a wicked witch's castle in an old Disney

cartoon.

At one point a buttress of red sandstone overhung the trail, forcing the

river to detour around it, and the trail was reduced so much that it

would be difficult for a laden mule to negotiate without being pushed

off the bank into the river.

Nicholas studied the bottom of the valley carefully through the lens. He

could pick out nothing that seemed suspicious or untoward, so he raised

his head and swept the Cliffs and their tops.

At that moment Aly's voice came up from the valley below, echoing along

the slope as he shouted, "Hurry, effendi! The mules are ready to go on!'

Nicholas waved down to him, but then lifted the binoculars for one more

sweep of the ground ahead. A wink of bright light caught his eye - a

brief ephemeral stab of brilliance like the signal of a heliograph. He

switched his whole attention to the spot on the cliff from which it had

emanated.

"What is it? What have you seen?" Royan demanded.

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