Sleep is refreshing. When I wake the doubts of the previous night have turned into excitement about what we might find today. I think about how far we have come from Astakarth, and nothing seems impossible. Then I think about all the people who have already died, and it shames me. The bubble of elation vanishes.
Ammeline and Doven are awake too. They are arguing with each other in hard low voices. I move slightly closer to listen in.
"If Remeny can't step up, we will die here."
Doven replies to her calmly. "Then we will die."
Her eyes snap. "It's all right for you. You haven't got someone waiting for you outside!"
I suck in my breath at that one. So does Doven, who needs a few seconds to reply. "You may believe my life is worth less than yours, but in the end, we both depend on Remeny."
Ammeline's voice is sulky. "I didn't say that!" Her tone changes. "Come on, Doven, don't get angry with me." She touches her tunic, pulling it down slightly over her breasts. She licks her lips. "That's not fair."
Doven doesn't move his gaze away from her eyes. He is regarding her coldly. "Those silly tricks won't work on me any longer. And they aren't going to work on Koban, either. You should stop using them."
Ammeline pouts. "I don't know what you mean!"
"Yes, you do. Linnith is worth six of you. And Koban ... whichever side he turns out to be on ... is going to want more than a selfish little girl who can only think of her own wants and needs."
There is real pain in Ammeline's eyes. "You can't like Linnith more than me!"
"I don't like you very much at all. Never have, really."
"You were all over me!"
Doven looks slightly sick. "Yes. I was, wasn't I?" His eyes slide to me. He knows I am listening. "I was ... younger."
She gives a snort. "A week!"
Doven nods slowly. "Sometimes a week can be a long time." He grins at me. "Good morning, Remeny."
Ammeline tosses her head and moves away. I am thinking that maybe it doesn't matter if my breasts don't grow so much. I have to tell Linnith what he has just said. That makes me more cheerful.
"This is your day." Doven looks worried.
"I suppose so."
"You'll do fine."
"Will I?" I bite my lip. "I am not so sure."
"I am. This is the end of the Inmuri slavery. I'm not certain how, but we are the ones who are going to bring freedom to Hethor."
I look at him. He is gentle and dependable and nice. Ok, he slipped a bit with his obsession over Ammeline, but he seems over that now. He deserves to be a hero. He is a hero. But nobody will ever find out unless I can do my bit in this enterprise. I realize that he should be recognized. So should Torch, saving us with his skulks. So should every single one of those who started the journey, even Ballen. It is not about me; it is about all of them.
This has the effect of making me feel stronger. I fit into a group; I no longer stand out as the spearhead. So I shall do whatever I can. I shall, if necessary, risk my own life. That is no more than they have done. Each and every one of them. Even Kalyka, swinging down on top of a fully grown Scoriat on her pendulum.
My spirit lightens. I go across to the sculpture of the orthomancer. He is dressed normally. The only thing which is clear is that he is standing on his toes, arms held out sideways. I run my fingers over the carved figure. This is the only clue that they left me. This and the maps of the worlds. I have to assume that those worlds are accessible. They must be. I pick up the list which Furian had written the night before. I take it with me as I revisit all the globes sculpted in this chamber. I study each one, memorizing the messages. I may need them.
Kalyka, who is now awake, follows me. "Do you understand what they mean?"
"Not yet. But I will."
"I know. I believe in you. So did Grandfather."
"Did he? Is that why you came?"
"Of course. He said that thousands of years of useless passivity was about to end. He firmly believed that you would be the one to lead us out of slavery."
"But he died."
"He didn't care about that." Tears stand out in her eyes. "He said the only thing that mattered was that I should survive."
"Did he?"
"He said he was old. Too old to make a difference."
Now I am crying. "He was wrong. He made a huge difference."
Kalyka nods. "He just couldn't see it. He meant more to me than my parents."
"He didn't like the timeworn."
"He was angry with them. He blamed them. Yet he died holding Quondam Azrial's hand."
"That must have been hard for him."
"I don't think so. He looked happy. They fell together. They weren't scared." She swallows. "At least they didn't die alone. And they were both Inmuri when all is said and done."
"He wanted change. I can understand that."
"He said that change had already come. He said he had been ready all his life to recognize it. And he said that you were the ... cata ... catal ..."
"Catalyst. Did he?"
"He did. He said right away that we had to come with you. He told me that the lines of many lives had come together. That you were the focus. That you had no idea, but that you would need us."
"And I did. Do."
Kalyka looks smug. "He knew. He said that if we didn't go with you, then you wouldn't be successful. He said that it is never about one person, it is always about many links in a chain."
I am surprised to be having this conversation with such a young girl. She makes me feel rather stupid. I have underestimated her. Then, too, Doven was right. A week can be a very, very long time.
Zivan has been standing quietly to one side. I look over at her. "Did you realize how important this journey might be?"
She shakes her head. "Not at first. It was important for me because it represented a chance for Torch. It was the only sign that he might have a future. But then, as the journey progressed, I saw that the whole fabric of the Inmuri society could be about to disintegrate. I hope it does."
"So do I."
We break our fast there, sitting beside the spheres that represent the worlds we have never seen. We are all anxious, all eager yet also wary. The roots we are eating are now past their best; they are difficult to chew, hard to swallow. And there is only a little water left. We do not have very much time.
When we have all finished, we pack our supplies up again. Nobody knows if we will be here later or not. It seems prudent to keep everything as ready to go as we can.
We leave the provisions and walk back along the tree bridge toward the vortex of the small invertebrates – the ones the ancients named firehorns. The buzz, as yesterday, gets louder and louder as we approach. We shuffle as close as we can, standing almost in line facing millions and millions of them as they swirl in front of us in the whirlpool.
It is time for me to act, but even though I step forward, I still have no idea what I should do.
Perhaps something will become clear if I stand here for a few minutes?
Nothing does.
The long minutes pass. I begin to feel silly. Surely I wouldn't have been brought here if nothing was meant to happen?
I can hear a few muttered comments from Vannis. It would be him, of course. He almost convinces me that I will fail.
I am not going to listen. I try to block him out by picturing all of the carvings in the small cave. That makes me realize something. I am not holding the same stance as the orthomancer in the sculpture. Perhaps I have to do that.
I sidle as close as I dare to the edge of the vortex. Then I bring my arms up until they are stretching straight out from my sides and raise myself on tiptoes.
Still nothing happens. Except that, after a couple of minutes, my arms begin to hurt and I find myself teetering on my toes. Behind me, Vannis hasn't stopped his muttering. I have a sudden urge to push him off the tree trunk and over into the abyss.
And thinking of what I would like to do to him gives me the answer I am searching for. Just like that, it is clear in my mind. I blink. I know what the orthomancer in the carving was doing. Of course! How very remarkable that it should be Vannis who gives me the answer. If it is the answer.
It doesn't matter. It has to be the solution. If it isn't, I shall be dead. If it is, I shall live.
All of our journey has been coming to this point. To this moment in time.
I cannot let them suspect what I am planning. And I cannot wait much longer. My arms are aching.
It has to be now.
Before I lose my will.
I bend my knees, push down and jump, my arms straight out in front of me. I launch myself off the tree bridge directly down into the abyss.
Vaguely, I still hear gasps and cries from behind me. They are cut off as I enter the vortex.
The orthomancer in the carving was in the position of a dive. Just as if he were diving into water.
But I am not diving into water. I am diving into billions of tiny invertebrates. Falling through a chasm which may even be bottomless.
I close my eyes. The adrenaline that surges around my bloodstream is affecting me as if I had been struck by lightning. I am in a state of grace. I am flying. I am absolved of all doubt. I am free.
And I am definitely still falling.
Down.
Down.
Further and further down in a spiral of acceleration.
I am aware of my body forcing the firehorns aside, crashing into them, tearing through them. I wonder if I am killing them with my passage, or whether they are able to get away. Certainly I am picking up speed quite considerably. Panic floods my whole system. I shake with absolute terror. Gravity is pulling me inexorably down.
Until it isn't.
I can't say when I become aware of a change. It is gradual, at first imperceptible. First, I notice a slowing in the acceleration, then a slowing in my speed. Then I am hanging in the rift. My fall has been broken. Small prickles are spreading along my arms.
I open my eyes. My whole torso is being covered by firehorns. They seem to be adhering to every part of me. As I watch, more and more are masking my body. They slip effortlessly into place, each covering a tiny area of skin. There is no sense of movement; they don't have legs. They simply appear and fit together, like mobile pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle. They form a film, a honeycomb crust around my person. They become my armor.
When they try to cover my face, I am tempted to cry out. I am more scared than I ever have been. My heart pounds irregularly. I dare not even breathe. I am dizzy. I think I am going to be sick. I am relieved to find I can still see and breathe. Even so, the sheath of tiny animals is very claustrophobic. I have to struggle not to panic.
When all the parts of my body are covered, I hover in the middle of the vortex. The rest of the firehorns seem aware of my presence; the whirlpool has adapted to the obstacle in its midst. It wheels around me, but I myself am stationary.
For a long time, nothing further happens. I am in a small universe of my own, I am alive, but coated with squirming invertebrates. They have covered every inch of me, except for my nostrils, eyes, mouth and ears. I am very grateful for even those few free areas. I can see, breathe and hear. If there were anyone there to talk to, I could speak.
I try to keep my heart inside my body. It is not easy; it is threatening to leap out from under my rib cage. Mentally I try to push it back. This is not the time for cardiac arrest. I am too young to die like that. I hope. The risk is there. The thing is thudding against my chest in a way it definitely wasn't meant to. There is a heaviness in my throat that is warning me of darkness.
I have to stop this. I breathe carefully, not too deeply, aiming to settle such body responses as much as possible.
It works. After a long struggle with myself I am able to calm down.
I take stock.
I am floating. In the middle of the vortex. In the chasm.
I can still hear cries from above, so I can't have travelled very far. Perhaps thirty or forty lengths. It felt a lot longer than it really was, then.
Nothing is happening. This strange firehorn armor is maintaining me in place, stopping me from falling, but I am going nowhere. I wonder what I must do next.
This time the answer is quick to come. It is obvious, really; I must concentrate on something.
I don't want to do this on my own. So I have to go back. I concentrate hard on the tree bridge where I left the others. Where they will still be standing, unsure whether I am alive or dead. I close my eyes tight shut. I want to go here, I tell the firehorns. If you really do possess the ability I believe you must have, then take me here. I visualize the ledge. Then I think please. It can't do any harm.
There is a sort of faint resistance. A very strange initial reluctance. It is almost as though my armor is grudgingly waking up. It tightens its hold, squeezing my body a little more firmly. Shortly after this, I find my feet are touching ground. Since I am not expecting it, I instantly fall over.
There are squeals now from close by. A hand reaches out and hoicks me up. Furian's face peers worriedly into mine. He gives me a frantic shake. "Is that you? Are you all right? Remeny? REMENY? Answer me!"
I look around. I am back on the tree bridge. The firehorns have brought me where I wanted to go.
I grab Furian's wrist, clutching deliberately. He tilts his head, wondering what I am doing, but makes no move to pull away.
Where our arms touch, a myriad of firehorns appear, slowly flowing up his arm and along his neck. His eyes widen, but he doesn't show fear. I think he has already realized how this works.
Ammeline hasn't. I can hear her quietly having hysterics somewhere behind us. Linnith is making soothing noises. Linnith is too nice a person, sometimes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure step toward us. It is Zivan. She has drawn a dagger and raises one eyebrow in my direction, asking permission. I nod. She is a welcome addition for this first trial. She pauses for just a few seconds, and then lowers her hand deliberately to Furian's arm, on the other side of him to me.
The firehorns reaching that part of Furian's arm flow seamlessly over onto Zivan. Her eyes open very wide as she watches the living shell slowly slide over her. But there is still no fear in those dark eyes of hers. She actually seems to be enjoying it.
I wait. I want them to be fully covered. I don't want to risk any part of their bodies being left behind. Then I concentrate fiercely. I know where we should go. Where I need to go. I need to go to Maraz. I want to see the homeworld of the Rath people.
I remember the message on the Maraz plinth. 'Gravibus mundi': 'The heavy world'. I bring the image above the inscription into my mind, picturing the Raths themselves. It is not difficult. They have long been the hated enemy of my people. I can visualize every detail of their thick bodies.
Again, I begin to notice the tightening of the live coat which envelops me. There is the same resistance to change. I sense that the firehorns would prefer to stay here in their home, flitting comfortably around and around this chasm in the Rift of the Timeworn. They have scant desire to take me to Maraz. Yet I can feel that they will. They don't want to, but they are acknowledging my wish. They will take me.
The light changes. There is no gentle warning. It is immediate. One moment we are standing on the tree bridge in Kelfor, the next we are standing on a hillside overlooking a huge spaceport, and our bodies drag us down. We are tugged toward the ground far more strongly than we would be on Hethor. It is quite uncomfortable.
Zivan lets go of Furian's arm, but he instantly grabs at her and makes her put her hand back. He is right, I realize. I still haven't learned how to call the firehorns to me. There is no tree bridge to jump off here. We could easily become stranded.
Comprehension rushes into Zivan's eyes. She gives a nod. We limit ourselves to staring around us at our surroundings. Not one Inmuri has ever come here. Despite being colonized by the Raths for the last thousand years, not one of us made it back to their land. We were only taken as slaves. They saw no further use for us. I burn at the injustice of that, at the wasted lives of those of my race who served in the mines or the domes before me. At last Fimbrian's anger at the timeworn has percolated down to me. I shake at the thought of their wanton inaction over the centuries. Why did they do so little to change things? It must have been obvious after the first two or three generations that the other part of our tribe would not – or could not – come back.
It is night and the surrounding area is dark, including where we are standing. The spaceport in front of us is floodlit. It is the source of the light. We can see a lot of movement. There are hundreds of Raths here. And literally thousands of another species. One which is larger, stronger, taller and much, much faster than the Raths themselves. I must be looking at the legendary Vessans.
Furian has spotted them too. He has stiffened, rather like a dog scenting a bitter opponent. He wants to run at them, through them, into them. I can feel the heat of his desire to attack.
Zivan reaches past her own body to clamp her spare hand onto his. Her message is clear. There is nothing we can do now. If ever. These terrible beings are truly frightening. I can see why our ancestors capitulated so easily. They are huge ... at least twice my height. And they move quickly. If they saw us, they could be on us within seconds. They are not quite as terrifying as the Thrall, but nearly.
Fear stains my brain, exploding outward. I can't help it. These Vessans in front of us are scary, but worse is the memory of Graven. That is still petrifying. My agitation is transmitting to the mesh of firehorns covering me. My unusual armor begins to press against me, to hum in an almost inaudible way. I agree. It is time to leave this place. I concentrate on the vortex, on the tree bridge, on wanting to return.
Almost instantly, I can feel the reddish tinge of Kelfor bathing my tight-shut eyes. When I open them, I see that we are indeed once again in the chasm.
I sort of wish the firehorns back into the vortex and they blink out of the armor enveloping me. Within five seconds I am standing on my own, still touching Furian's arm. Zivan is just removing her hand from his other arm.
There is a moment of confusion before the others surge up to us, questions tripping off their tongues.
"Where did you go?"
"What happened to you?"
"By the rift, it WORKED!"
"You weren't gone very long."
The three of us who have recently stood staring at the Vessans are still speechless. We can't answer them yet. What has just happened, what we have just seen is far too momentous for our brains to take in. I feel as though I have been hit with a plank across the back of the head. From their eyes, Furian and Zivan are in pretty much the same state. We lead the way back to the cave, where we sink down onto the hard floor.
Furian signals to what is left of the water. "We can drink what we want. I don't think getting supplies is going to be a problem from now on."
Ammeline stamps her foot. "Tell us! Tell us what happened!"
So he does. At first, they find it hard to believe him.
"Vessans? What are you talking about?"
But they have to believe it. They know that we went somewhere else. The only thing they don't know is where. They look at all the globes around us in the cave.
"Then we can ..."
"You mean that ..."
I nod. "I think we can go anywhere. Anywhere we can envisage." Then I correct myself. "Anywhere I can envisage."
Kalyka jumps up and down, clapping her hands. "We can find the rest of the Inmuri! We can travel to other planets!"
Vannis is looking doubtful. "Remeny seems extremely tired," he points out, nodding in my direction. "She doesn't look as if she can go anywhere much. She is absolutely exhausted."
It is true that I am tired. I would like nothing more than to lie down again and go back to sleep. All that concentration takes it out of you.
Vannis isn't finished. "How do we know we all can't do that? All she did is throw herself into the vortex. You don't have to be special to do that."
Furian considers. "You could be right," he tells Thurifer's grandson. "It is something we will have to check. Are you offering?"
There is a long moment of silence before Vannis replies. "I might," he says carefully. "If ... if it is judged to be necessary."
Zivan looks at me. Her eyes are alight. She won't miss an opportunity like this. She doesn't. "I think that is a very good idea, Vannis."
"Yes. Well, perhaps somebody a bit smaller than me should try it. Kalyka or Linnith?" He scans all of us, his hands spread out. "Ammeline, even. Whoever you decide, of course."
He has dug himself a big, big hole. Ammeline, who blinked on hearing her name put forward so gratuitously, smiles widely at him, her eyes guileless. "Oh no, Vann! I am sure you would be the perfect person to take the risk. You are so brave!"
He flushes. He reminds me of a worm on a hook. But he won't wriggle his way out of this one. I get up. "I will go first, so that I can save you if it doesn't work."
We all go back to the tree bridge, to the area right next to the vortex. I smile at Vannis, who is looking pale and green under the reddish light of Kelfor. "Just jump over after about a minute. I will have to let you drop quite a way of course. We need to give you time to see if the firehorns will come to you."
This second time of diving into the whirlpool is easier than the first, but not by much. I know what should happen now, but there is nothing to tell me for sure that it will. I still tremble.
Linnith is the one who guesses how dubious I am. "Stand back, everybody!" she shouts at the rest. "Give her some room, won't you?"
I am grateful to her. She is trying to save me embarrassment.
The others shuffle backward, leaving me on my own at the very edge of the bridge.
I take a deep breath, put my arms out sideways and raise myself up onto my toes. Just as if I am diving into water, I bounce and hurl myself over, head first. Nothing in my life so far has prepared me for how this dive feels. My insides turn to liquid before I jump. Fear is a paralyzing ice, deep inside, depriving me of breath. As I drop, I can't help being glad that Vannis is going to be the one to share the experience. It is fitting. It makes up for all the insults he has proffered. Almost.
The firehorns surround me quickly, and soon I am hovering inside the whirlpool.
This time I open my eyes. I have to. I need to spot Vannis.
Nothing happens for long moments. I begin to wonder if I should go back up. Then I see a flash as a figure hurtles past me.
It is not Vannis.
I am not sure, but I think it is Zivan.
I visualize her falling body and instantly I am beside her. I take her hand as we fall, letting the firehorns flow over to her.
The freefall as the animals cover her is quite frightening. We are travelling very fast, and the chasm is rushing past. The air resists our passage and rips at us. My eyes water as I watch the firehorns surge over Zivan.
As soon as they have, I visualize us floating.
The downward race slows, then stops totally. We hang there, gently being buffeted by the surrounding whirlpool. I grin at Zivan.
"Vannis not so keen?"
She laughs. "I have never heard so many excuses for one single act. I decided I had better do it myself."
"They didn't come to you."
She shakes her head. "Not even one. I should rather say they were avoiding me. It seems it really is only you that they will come to. A pity. It limits us."
"Yes. We need to find out a lot more about all of this. About how we can use it. What we can do."
"Mmm." Zivan looks around her. "Give me a few more minutes, will you? I have never experienced anything like it. I want to be able to remember the feeling. It is the closest I have ever been to true freedom."
We bathe inside the whirlpool for some minutes. Finally she stretches like a cat. "Wonderful. You can take me back now. I wish Torch could see this."
Yes. I will have to bring him. I wonder what he will make of it all.
I concentrate hard on the tree bridge. Within seconds, we are back on its surface. This time I manage not to fall.
Vannis is standing behind the others, head down. I try to think of the right thing to say, but no words come to the surface. I give up. It is his problem, not mine. Like the rest of the group, he watches as the firehorns gently detach from our bodies and disappear into thin air.
"Well?" Ammeline has her hands on her hips.
"Nothing." Zivan gently brushes at her tunic, making sure none of the small creatures are left. "I would have fallen to my death if it hadn't been for Remeny."
"That, then, is the function of the orthomancer. At least that much is clear now. So, what do we do next?"
The question of the century.
Furian steps forward. "The first thing Remeny needs to do is learn exactly how to use this power. She needs to practice how to get where she wants to go, and we need to determine the limitations of the orthomancer. How many people can be taken with her? How long will the firehorns stay adhered to her? Can she make several jumps from one place to another? How can she make sure not to get stuck in a distant place? How can she jump to somewhere she has never been?" He looks around at all of us. "There is no point planning anything much until we can answer those questions."
There are nods from the others. All except Ammeline, who is staring at me with something approaching distaste.
"What about food? There is hardly any water left, and we finished the roots, remember?"
Furian purses his lips. "That is a good point."
"I will go to Torch and Jethran." I have already anticipated this. "They will have enough food for all of us, and will be glad to hear from me."
"If you do that, I demand to go with you," Ammeline says immediately, her chin up. She stares around, daring anybody to deny her.
I am too tired to care. I incline my head, which the others take as agreement. Then I point back to the cave. "I need to rest."
They are round me in seconds, helping me across the bridge, fussing over me. Doven pats me on the back. "Good work! I knew you would do it!"
Only Vannis is silent. He remains apart from the rest of us, his eyes unable to meet mine. I sigh.
"It doesn't matter, Vannis."
He shakes his head. It does matter. The vain, spoilt boy is broken. His shoulders are bent, his face unhappy. He doesn't like himself at the moment, and he definitely doesn't like us.
I put one hand on his arm. "You fought for us all in the tunnels. You are no coward."
At the use of the word he flinches. "Of course I am not!"
"Well, then. Forget about it."
He can't. "I should have jumped."
I shrug. "Nobody is perfect. Particularly not you."
This slight sarcasm goes unnoticed by him. He has never doubted his superiority until today. Perhaps the shock has been too great for him to deal with.
He manages a sneer. "I suppose you think you are, now that you are the orthomancer. Now that you are the most important member of the group? Hah! You are just a girl!"
Normally I would have bristled at that, but I can see he needs to insult me. "You can come with me and Ammeline, if you want."
He stills. Considers. "Yes. Yes, I do."
I nod. "Fine."
And suddenly, just like that, his crisis is over. He stands straighter. "I may stay up there. We are going to have to do something about the Scoriats. We can't let them find Kelfor. This site has to be protected."
Furian raises one eyebrow. It is the first time Vannis has sounded proactive about this journey. "Good idea. You are right; our priority has to be to keep this a secret. At least until we make up our minds what we are going to do about the Raths."
I try to listen to the rest of the conversation, but my eyes are closing. I am totally drained. I need to sleep for a couple of hours.
I feel much better when I wake up. Kalyka is next to me and she hands me a small piece of root and some water. It must be the last we have. I hesitate. She thrusts it forward.
"Furian says you are to eat a little and drink all of this. You are the one person who needs to be kept fit and well. We are all dependent on you now."
The root sticks in my throat. I almost choke. "You must eat too, Kally."
"I ate. You have been asleep for five hours."
Five hours! It feels as though I just closed my eyes. I sip at the water. It makes me realize how thirsty and hungry I am. I finish what Kalyka has brought me.
"Ammeline and Vannis are waiting for you."
"OK. Give me ten minutes."
She scrambles to her feet and runs off, no doubt to tell them that I am awake. I stretch, rather gingerly, wishing, not for the first time, that we had been able to bring the carricks. Not that they are exactly feather beds, but they would be an improvement over bare rock. Most of me seems to ache.
I push myself to my feet. That is better.
This morning I had no idea who I would be this afternoon. Now I know. I am an orthomancer. I feel very different. I feel complete. I feel happy. Now I have seen what the firehorns can do, I know that my people can find a way to escape from the Raths.
Linnith ambushes me as I make my way out. "I want to show you something," she whispers. "Come with me."
I follow. She leads me right under the smaller roots of the tree, into the back of the cave. Here, there are several thin plaques which have been affixed to the wall. They are engraved with words. She points to the first. "I think you should see these."
It is all in Latin. She has to translate. "There are ten of them. Look, this first one says that that the firehorns need to find something the ancients call ortholiquid, to regenerate. The second says that this is why they can travel like they do; they take this special liquid inside their bodies, and because of that can travel by something the ancients called 'decoherence'. It is not the firehorns that can travel like that, it is the special liquid. They are in some kind of symbiosis with it."
She takes a deep breath before tugging me over to the next plaque. "Here, it says that there used to be this special liquid in Kelfor, but that it evaporated and seeped away over the aeons. The firehorns need to travel to find it now, but they come back here because it is their home, because Kelfor allows them the space and safety to join the underground whirlpool they so like to form."
I stare, trying to make out what the stones say. "What does that mean? That there is some sort of liquid out there which can travel instantly through space, and that the firehorns make use of it?"
"I think so. They have to because they are in symbiosis with it. They need the liquid; the liquid needs them ... I suppose."
"Is there any more?"
Linnith nods. "This one. It says that the ortholiquid is very unusual; it is formed of atoms which can be everywhere at once, but which can condense down into one place if necessary."
I trace the words with one finger. Perhaps my ancestors could understand all this. I can't. The Inmuri lost the wisdom of knowledge when they were turned into slaves by the Raths.
"So you're saying I have to let the firehorns find this special liquid. That they need it to ... travel like they do?"
"Yes. I suspect that if you don't, they won't be able to carry you. Like you need food and water, they need this 'ortholiquid'. They must retain it in those strangely shaped little bodies of theirs."
"I see. That would suggest that they normally travel to other worlds to 'eat', right? On their own?"
"I guess so."
"And I act as a magnet to them. They congregate all around me, and can somehow sense where I want to go?"
She nods again. "You are like a lightning conductor to them. You attract them and become a channel for them. It doesn't say why. I don't think our ancestors ever found out why."
"Are there any more plaques?"
"Only one. It says: 'Semper retro via per amoletum'. 'The way back is always through the amulet.'"
"So I must always wear the amulet. I'm glad you told me. Does it say how?"
"Sort of. It says: 'Aperta reditus'. 'Open to return."
"Open it? Are you sure?"
"Quite. 'Aperta'. It can't mean anything else."
I pull the amulet out from under my tunic. "Then there is some way to open this. I can't see how."
"Let me try."
I hand it over to Linnith, but she can't see an opening either. Finally, she gives it back. "There must be a way."
I signal to Zivan, who comes over. When I explain what I want, she takes the amulet carefully and carries it over to a peculiar yellow streak in the rock that gives out a brighter light.
It takes her a few moments, then her face lightens. "Here!" She points with the tip of her knife to a tiny indentation, one I have never even noticed. "Shall I open it?"
Linnith and I check with each other. Then nod. "Yes."
Zivan presses her knife, only slightly. There is a click and the whole of the front part of the amulet, where the stone is, opens. It is hinged on one side.
Zivan opens the locket. Inside there is a firehorn. Dead. Very dead. It is completely dried up. We stare at it, and then at each other.
Linnith calls the others, to show them what we have found.
Doven, who used to work in the mines, examines the small firehorn very closely. He narrows his eyes. "Wait a minute. I think I ... here, Ammeline, bring me a little water, will you?"
"I am not your slave. Go get it yourself!"
"Snap at it girl! This is important!"
She glares, but surprisingly obeys. Doven grabs at the container she brings and places the tiny dead creature onto his palm. Then he adds a couple of drops of water on top of it.
Nothing happens. I am not surprised. Dead is dead. If things could come back from the dead, it would make my life a lot easier.
He puts the tiny animal carefully back into the amulet, closing the stone down onto it again. There is a hard click as the latch engages. "Leave it for a while," he tells us. "I may be wrong, but I think ... I once saw something down in the mines. It is worth a try, anyway."
Furian turns to Ammeline, Vannis and I. "How are you feeling, Remeny? Do you think you can go through the whole process again? Are you strong enough?"
"I think so. What do you need?"
He smiles. "Food and water are the two essentials. Then – anything would be helpful. Do your best, but remember that this is your first day. You don't want to overdo it."
"I should go with them." Zivan steps forward.
It seems to me that Furian hesitates, his glance going to Vannis. "We know that Remeny can take two people with her. I don't think we should make her take more. Not yet. We don't want to complicate the operation any more than it already is. I think they will be fine. Vannis is armed. He will be able to take care of the girls."
Vannis puffs out his chest. "If I go, Zivan is unnecessary."
We studiously look in another direction. No-one wants to contradict him. He glares at the silence. "What? She is!"
Kalyka is frowning. "Yes, but how can Remeny find them? I mean, she has no idea where they are!"
"I think the firehorns work by somehow seeing where I am imagining and then going there. I will start by imagining the last place I saw Torch. I don't think they will be far away. Karith won't have been in a fit state to travel."
I don't tell them what I really suspect. I think that if I picture Torch in my mind, they will find him for me. But that sounds silly. It sounds in the realm of the magical. I know I will try it. But I will keep it to myself.
I stand for the third time at the edge of the tree bridge. I have the same panic, but this time, as I dive over into the abyss, I feel I am coming home. The sudden falling is welcoming; the sensation of the firehorns finding me is familiar. I wonder how I have lived for so long without this part of my life existing. It makes me whole.