That was too easy. I suppressed a smile.
“Thank you, River,” I said. Norbu winced. He didn’t like it when I used River’s name, but he couldn’t very well protest, if River didn’t. Norbu wasn’t a snob, I had decided, but he did like things to be done a certain way. He had a wife back in the Three Cities, a noblewoman, and usually that “certain way” of doing things was her way. He had already spent considerable breath instructing Aimo on the precise ratio of flour to water for making sampa cakes, and had twice dropped heavy hints in my presence regarding the correct way of addressing nobles, a subject on which his wife was apparently an expert. I doubted that Norbu saw his wife as often as he would like, given how much time he spent tramping around in the wilderness with River, and his comments would almost be endearing if they weren’t so frequent—or so frequently aimed at me.
“We’ll need to find higher ground,” I said. “You can’t see much from here.”
River raised an eyebrow. “What do you suggest?”
I glanced over my shoulder at the sheer mountain face.
“Kamzin,” Tem muttered.
I shot him a look. I needed to get River away from the others, where I could interrogate him without being interrupted. Also, he was less intimidating when we were alone—the others, particularly Norbu and Dargye, acted as if he were the emperor himself, scrambling to fetch him things and hanging on his every word. Even though I found their behavior ridiculous, it was catching.
“What do you say?” There was a dare in my voice. River’s smile took on a wicked quality.
“I say let’s go.”
“Dyonpo,” Norbu began, “are you certain that—”
“We won’t be gone long, my friend,” River said.
Norbu bowed his head, frowning slightly in my direction. River shrugged on his tahrskin chuba and followed me to the base of the rock face. The others had fallen silent. I could feel their eyes on us. I could also feel Tem’s glare boring into my back.
“Would you like to go first?” River said. He gazed up at the mountainside with a calculating look on his face. It was a look I understood well. I felt a shiver of anticipation.
“Why don’t I shadow you?” I said.
His gaze met mine. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed, and I couldn’t suppress a grin.
“All right,” he said. “Challenge accepted. You copy me on the way up, and I follow you on the way down.”
“Deal,” I said. I was almost hopping up and down with excitement, my worries all but forgotten. I knew I was going to win the game.
River cocked his head to one side, considering. Then, smoothly, he grabbed hold of a crack in the rock face, dug his toe into a root, and pulled himself onto a ledge.
I watched him closely, memorizing every move he made. It was clear almost immediately that River was like no one else I had climbed with. He climbed as easily as most people walked, moving with an almost bored grace. I found myself almost forgetting to note the route he took—merely watching him, my mouth half-open.
He paused perhaps twenty feet above the ground. Hooking his arm around a rock, he leaned back and called, “Coming?”
I started. Taking a deep breath, I stepped up to the rock face, and began to climb.
We moved swiftly up the mountainside. River paused several times to ensure I was keeping pace. In fact, I could have climbed much faster. I wondered if he was taking it easy to test me. The route he had chosen was straightforward enough, at least for me, though some of the moves he made were tricky, surprising. Creeping sideways along a narrow ledge, holding on with only your fingertips. Navigating an overhang upside down, your feet above your head.
As we climbed, I gradually became aware of the sound of rushing water. There were falls nearby, I was certain of it—somewhere beyond the curve of the mountainside, where I could make out a narrow chasm filled with boulders and trees. River climbed sideways along the mountain until he reached it. He paused, and I caught up quickly.
The chasm wasn’t overly deep—we were only halfway level with the pines rising from the mountain rubble below—but it was wide, several times the span of my reach. The other side was a slippery mess, coated with moss wet from the spray of the hidden waterfall. It floated toward us in icy clouds, dampening my face. Through the spray, I could just make out a narrow ledge on the wall opposite, slightly higher up the rock face.
River glanced over his shoulder. I couldn’t read his expression, but thought I saw the flash of a smile. I smiled back, because I knew that he was stuck, and I had won. I shifted position slightly, preparing to make way when he began to lower himself down the ridge.
Instead, he turned away from me and leaped.
Leaped across the impossible gap, or perhaps flew—I could see little difference. He grabbed hold of a knuckle of stone, wedged his foot against the rock, and pulled himself onto the narrow ledge in a single movement as fluid as a cat’s.
I stared at him. He called something, but the crashing of the water winnowed it to “Care—hold—ice—zin.” He sidestepped along the rock face and disappeared into the fine mist beyond. There was no doubt in his mind, apparently, that I would follow.
“River!” I shouted.
I climbed to where he had been standing and squinted across the chasm. Now that I was closer, I could see there were, in fact, several decent handholds—narrow, but nothing I couldn’t handle.
Did he say “ice”? I saw no sign of it, but that didn’t mean anything in this deep shade. I gritted my teeth. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered to attempt what River had just done; I would have climbed down into the chasm, and then up the other side. Or, more likely, turned back. But if I did either of those things, River would win.
I would not let River win.
I took a long, slow breath and took my hands off the rock face, lowering my body into a crouch. A stillness settled over me, a feeling that was like hovering at the edge of sleep, but also its opposite, for everything was heightened. Then I sprang into the air.
I caught the handhold. But my gasp of relief was cut short—my hands began to slide slowly, painfully, down the rock.
He said “ice.”
Somehow, I managed to jam my fingertips into a crack. Shaken by the near miss, I pushed myself up to the ledge somewhat less gracefully than River, and then stood there for a long moment, my breath hissing against the rock.
Once I had caught my breath, I brushed my hair back from my face and composed my features into a nonchalant expression. The ledge broadened up ahead as the sound of the waterfall intensified. I could feel it reverberate through the mountain and up my legs as I walked. Where was River? The chill mist was sharp against my skin. Then the rock ahead folded back, and I stopped.