Andi sucked in a deep breath of the too-thin air. “Loud enough to wake the dead.”
“It can’t be helped.” Rahuna looped the mallet handle’s rawhide thong back over the hook. “Now we wait.”
Fortunately for Andi’s jangled nerves, the delay wasn’t protracted. From across the canyon came a crashing boom as the heavy door on the monastery’s second story banged open. The crystal morning air magnified every sound, even the soldiers’ labored breathing behind Andi. Assaulted by a wave of vertigo, she shook her head to clear it, which did nothing to relieve her pernicious high-altitude migraine.
Across the divide, three figures emerged from the doorway.
“Should we signal again somehow?” Shifting from foot to foot with impatience, Andi stared across the chasm. “What if they stay over there and shut the door without asking what we want? Look, two of them are going back inside already.”
“Allow me.” Moving with judicious care, Rahuna descended the steep stairs and walked onto the bridge. Fearing the morning dew had made the wooden span slick, Andi decided not to watch Rahuna’s progress. She focussed on a monk in flowing, orange-red robes, waiting for the priest at the arch. From the moment he arrived safely on the other side, His Holiness talked to the man with great animation, gesturing across the gorge. I wish I could read lips.
She grabbed Wilson’s arm and pointed. “Here comes Rahuna. The monk’s tagging along with him. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Considerin’ we’re all at the end of our endurance. I’m camping right here for the day if we aren’t allowed into the monastery. Pursuit or no pursuit.” His voice was tired and grim.
As Rahuna came closer on the treacherous bridge, his smile made it clear such dire measures would be unnecessary. Stopping at the foot of the stairs, he called to them, “All is well. The monks welcome our party and will attempt to aid the captain. Can you bring him? I’m too tired to climb up there again.”
“No problem, sir,” Wilson shouted back. “Can the monk help carry our gear? I’d rather handle the litter ourselves.”
“Of course.” Rahuna gave rapid orders to the strapping monk following him. Nodding his assent, the man came to their level, moving with a speed and energy Andi envied. Picking up all the packs and bags as if the total weight was nothing, he headed across the skinny, slick bridge nonchalantly.
“Miss Markriss, you and I can help each other across the bridge.” Rahuna beckoned to her. “It isn’t too bad, a bit slippery. With the cloud cover so low, it’s like taking a stroll on a footbridge across a foaming creek.”
The analogy seemed far-fetched to Andi. Smiling, she shook her finger at Rahuna. “Now you’re getting carried away with the poetic similes, sir. You almost had me convinced until that last image.” Working her way down the mossy steps, she took Rahuna’s hand. His fingers clasped hers with surprising strength, giving her renewed energy and confidence. Rahuna tugged her onward, allowing her no chance to hesitate. Together, they took the first step onto the bridge.
“It’s a test of faith for the monks, you know.” Staying in the center of the boards, Rahuna strolled casually. He took quick glances off to the sides, up into the sky and once peering into the void below.
Determined not to give in to her phobia, Andi kept her eyes on her sandaled feet. “Then they should have a normal bridge for those of us who aren’t monks.” Thankfully, the bridge was wider than it had appeared from the ridge. A stiff breeze chilled her skin, but the span didn’t sway as much as she’d expected. She tightened her grip around Rahuna’s hand.
He looked back at her with a frown. “Trust my faith to lead us to safety.”
“Deal.” If anyone has enough faith, it would be Rahuna.
No sooner had she said that than a sudden wind gust buffeted them. She knelt, scrabbling with her free hand to grip the rope linking the boards. She hunkered into the smallest ball she could.
After a minute or two that seemed like an hour, the wind stopped gusting. Andi continued clutching Rahuna’s hand. He knelt down, nose to nose with her, repeating her name hypnotically. As soon as she opened her eyes, he reached to take her other hand off the rope. “Come on, you can do it, stand up and let’s finish our stroll before the next puff of wind tests us.”
“My head’s kind of spinning right now.” Rising to her feet under the pressure of his hands, she kept her eyes closed tight against the vertigo.
He hugged her. “We’re going to walk, one step at a time. You must open your eyes, but focus on me. Don’t look down.”
She forced herself to nod. “Okay.”
He tugged, and she took one step.
Okay, I didn’t die. I’ll try another step. How many steps can it take to get across this damn thing anyway? Andi glanced ahead, over Rahuna’s shoulder. Oh, Lords, bad idea, it must be a mile across.
When the next breeze assaulted them, Rahuna looked over his shoulder at her. “Just count the steps to yourself. Let yourself stop thinking. I’ll guide you safely, I swear it.”
“Just…keep walking,” she said through gritted teeth, wanting the ordeal to end.
The minute she was on the solid staircase below the monastery, she sank onto the mossy stone, breathing deeply. “I hope there’s another way out of this place. I’d hate to tempt fate on that bridge twice.”
As the soldiers attempted the same crossing with Tom’s litter, Rahuna laid a calming hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be all right. Sanenre favors us this morning. They won’t fall, nor will they drop him.”
Wilson and Rogers came down the steep staircase, balancing the litter, then started across the bridge, the sergeant in the lead.
Andi sympathized with their slow pace. I had such a hard time keeping my balance, and I wasn’t carrying anything. “The men are so tired. I hope they don’t slip.”
“It’ll be fine. See, they’re halfway across already. We must move up the stairs to give them room.” Rahuna prodded her into motion, getting her to progress three or four more steps toward the monastery.
Andi kept turning to check Wilson and Rogers’s progress behind her. “Where’s Latvik?”
Face drawn in lines of strain, the sergeant seemed about at the end of his endurance, breathing hard. “Sent him to retrieve Abukawal and the Tonkilns.” Wilson had to suck in air before finishing his thought. “He volunteered to go.”
“Let the good sergeant save his strength, child,” Rahuna chided her. “Come to the courtyard and meet our hosts.”
As she walked under the archway, weathered carvings caught her momentary attention. The entire entrance was shaped from a block of some translucent, pink stone unfamiliar to her. Huffing and puffing, Wilson and Rogers toiled behind her with their burden. Rahuna urged her onward. A solid wall two yards high, finished with a layer of darker stone, surrounded the courtyard at the top of the stairs. The pavement underfoot was the same vivid red as the roof tiles. Spiky plants were growing in ornate clay pots around the circumference of the courtyard.
Huge white blossoms unfolded, opening to the sun. Andi breathed in the intoxicating perfume wafting across to her on the slight morning breeze. “How beautiful. I’ve never seen this flower before.”
“Heart of Sanenre.” Rahuna sneezed. “One of the rarest of blooms. The monks dry the petals to create incense for rituals. Come, the chief monk will be waiting for us inside the entry chamber.” Wilson and Rogers arrived inside the courtyard with the litter. “Gentlemen, you must carry your captain into the monastery, and then your labors will be done for now. The monks will take charge of the patient once he’s within their sanctuary.”
Wilson exchanged weary glances with Rogers. “Guess we can manage one last set of stairs, sir, if you promise no more after that. Lead the way.”
Rahuna hiked up first, followed by Andi. The straining litter-bearers brought up the rear. She gawked at how the surroundings were so calm, clean and pristine. I need a bath. The soldiers are probably just as grimy and sweaty as I am. We’re wildly out of place h
ere. But the only thing that matters is whether the monks can help Tom.
Standing alone in a column of light, an old monk waited for them. A skylight set in the ceiling above bathed his long, flowing, orange-red robe in illumination, making the monk resemble a living flame. Andi supposed he was meant to represent the embodiment of Sanenre, who dwelt in the fires of the sun. He really staged this appearance for maximum dramatic effect. The monk’s pale, oval face above the glowing robe was kind, wrinkled, his twinkling black eyes deep-set under snowy-white brows. White hair surrounded his pate, with a gleaming bald spot in the middle. As he extended his arms to welcome them, Andi couldn’t help but stare at the bracelets of huge, rough-cut Zulaire rubies on either wrist. Each stone by itself would have been worth an Obati lord’s ransom. Elaborate red tattoos adorned the backs of his wizened hands, the details of the patterns now all but obliterated by age and wrinkles.
Hovering nearby as Wilson and Rogers set the litter down, Andi worried. Tom was so pale and so still. She knelt so she could put one hand on his chest to reassure herself he was still breathing. How much ceremony and discussion must there be before we know if they can help him? And we can’t rush through any of it or the monks will be offended. Patience, Markriss. Negotiation was one of the required skills for her job, and she was very good at it, but the social niceties required before the real discussion could commence were hard for her at the best of times. The stakes were unbearably high today, with Tom’s life in the balance.
Not leaving his spot in the dramatic rays of sunlight, the elderly monk addressed them in a deep baritone voice. “I am Tleer, chief monk of the Monastery of the Clouds. I welcome you to our sanctuary in the name of Sanenre. I pray your petition will be regarded with grace and favor.”
Preparing to make her own plea, Andi stood up, but Rahuna stepped forward immediately, already talking. “One of our party—a brave and worthy soldier—is ill. We ask sanctuary to tend him and to rest before continuing our journey. The winds of storm swirl in Zulaire, Tleer, my brother. It is laid upon us to do our part to disperse these storm clouds. The light of Sanenre must shine forth once more.”
“There may be some risk to you,” Andi said. I can’t let him give us shelter without warning him. “Rebel troops may be following us.”
Tleer bowed to her. “It is well intentioned of you to mention this, my daughter, but unnecessary. This shrine exists to serve those who do Sanenre’s will. It likewise has powerful weapons to repel those who create shadows on the peace of Sanenre’s light.”
“There are a few more people in our group,” Wilson said. “Another soldier, a local warrior, a girl—”
“And a baby? An Obati baby? Is the warrior Shenti, from the far mountains of Abuzan?” As he fired questions at them, Tleer’s wizened face became animated.
“How did you know?” Wilson shot the monk a suspicious look.
“There are foretellings.” Rubbing his hands together, Tleer beamed at them, nodding at each person in turn as if conferring a blessing. “But we never know when Sanenre will set prophesied events into motion. We’ll watch for your other companions and welcome them.”
Moaning, Tom thrashed against the bindings on the litter. Niceties be damned. “Please, he’s extremely ill,” Andi said. “We spent a long time climbing up here, and he’s been getting worse by the hour.”
Tleer crossed the room to a gong on a giant stand and gave a single tap to the disk. Four monks flocked into the foyer from the unseen hallway beyond, garbed in robes of a more subdued shade than Tleer’s.
“My brethren will take charge of the sick man.” Tleer motioned toward yet another corridor. “If the rest of you will follow me, we can get you lodged and fed.”
“Sir, I’d rather stay with the captain.” Resting one hand on the butt of his blaster, Wilson took up a stance between the approaching monks and the litter.
“I’m staying with him, too.” Andi frowned at Wilson, in case he planned to object. “You need my help, Sergeant, as sick as he is and as exhausted as you are. Don’t even think about arguing. Just tell me what to do.”
“As you choose.” Serene and calm, Tleer apparently didn’t care if his guests fell in with his suggested agenda. He escorted Rahuna and Rogers down one corridor, while Andi and Wilson followed the four monks carrying Tom’s litter in another direction.
The monks led them into a bright, eight-sided room. One whole wall was transparent, with a breathtaking view of the canyon and the mountain across the way. A soft, orange rug covered the stone floor. Tapestries of pastoral scenes hung on the walls, the largest depicting a herd of Sanenre’s sacred urabu gamboling beside a lake.
Centered below this tapestry sat a bed constructed of dark-veined wood. The center of the headboard was a cunningly carved rendering of an arched urabu’s head. The side slats were depicted as much-exaggerated antlers, rising to a point at the foot. Linen sheets covered the mattress, with quilts and furs piled on a nearby stool. Tossed against the headboard was an inviting stack of fringed and tasseled pillows.
Taking in the room’s appointments with one quick glance, Andi was satisfied that the accommodations would be comfortable for Tom, sick as he was. I could sleep for a week. I bet Wilson is thinking the same thing. Look at those lines on his face and shadows under his eyes.
Producing a stubby knife, one of the monks slashed through the bindings keeping Tom more or less still on the litter. Freed from restraint, the captain thrashed as convulsions racked his body. Standing out of the way, Andi wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes prickled, her throat grew tight with unshed tears, as she watched him go through so much agony. Meanwhile, the monks worked together as a team, transferring the captain to the waiting bed.
“Let me give him a shot.” Wilson stepped to the bedside, medinject in hand.
All four monks stopped, staring at the sergeant.
Hastily, Andi translated for the monks, who didn’t appear to understand Basic.
One stepped forward while his three companions ranged themselves between Andi and the bed. “What will this do?” asked the one in charge, speaking a Zulairian subdialect.
Glaring at the monks, Wilson clenched his hand on the butt of his blaster as he addressed Andi in a tense voice. “Are they planning to interfere with me?”
I hope not. “No, I don’t think so,” she said in a soothing voice. “The monks just want to help, to understand.”
“Tell them I’m goin’ to stop him from convulsing for a few minutes, so we can get him undressed, sponge him off. We need to reduce the fever.” Lowering his voice, Wilson looked at Andi, worry lines bracketing his mouth. “I flat-out hate the next stage of bhengola, the chills, but he has to pass through them to get over this attack, ma’am. Ask what they can do for bonebreakin’ shivers.”
Andi and the monk engaged in a rapid discussion, covering what Deverane was suffering from and how the next stage of the disease would be violent convulsions.
“We’ll bring you a potion within the hour which may be effective.” Bowing, the monk glided unhurriedly from the room.
Wilson gave his captain the medication while the remaining monks stood in a line by the window and watched. In less than a minute, the drug had taken effect, Andi was relieved to see.
For the first time in hours, Deverane was relatively quiscient, although he continued to roll his head from side to side, as if seeking escape from the pain. Holding the empty inject, Wilson studied the implement as if it was solid gold. Grimacing, he looked at Andi. “I can’t administer this drug too often during any one attack. Has a powerful effect on the heart. Not good for the liver, either. Ma’am, would you excuse us while we make him a bit more comfortable?”
She had her argument ready. I’m not leaving Tom’s side tonight. “Look, the monks are speaking a Naranti sub-Clan dialect, and you weren’t hypnotrained in anything but basic Naranti, right?”
Puzzled, the sergeant shook his head.
“So I’ll stay, thank you. You need a trans
lator. I’ll just sit in this chair, facing the window, and translate as necessary.” Sinking into the cushions, Andi curled up like a cat. “Well, better get on with making Tom comfortable.” She waved one hand in a small shooing motion.
Wilson shrugged and turned back to the three monks. “I could probably get by with gestures,” he said defiantly over his shoulder.
“You were ready to draw your blaster at least twice already since we got here,” Andi reminded him softly. “We can’t afford to offend these people, not if we want their help for Tom.”
Wilson worked with the monks, unfastening Tom’s clothing. Ands translated as needed while keeping her eyes averted, to soothe the sergeant’s concern for the proprieties. When Wilson gave the all-clear, she left the chair, to see Tom’s limp, unresisting body garbed in loose blue pajamas, topped with a plain brown monk’s robe.
The monks streamed from the room in single file, almost marching, taking the battered litter with them, as well as the crumpled uniform.
Making no sound, the last man closed the door behind him.
“I guess now we wait.” Which is always the hardest thing for me to do. Andi crossed to the bed where Tom lay. Cupping his cheek with her hand, she recoiled in horror. “His skin feels like ice.” She grabbed two of the quilts from the chair and spread them over the captain. “How can the fever change to chills so fast?”
“Just one of the many terrifying aspects of bhengola. A lot of people never survive their first attack.” Wilson tucked the quilts in further. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth, face careworn. “He’s been fightin’ this damn thing for five years.”
“But the disease is winning, isn’t it?” Andi said. “Even as strong and stubborn as he is. Five years is an eternity to battle bhengola. He can’t have much immune-system reserve left to fight it anymore.”
Fixedly, Wilson stared at the urabu carving on the headboard and made no reply.
A quick knock heralded the return of their hosts. Opening the door, a monk brought a bowl of clear, steaming liquid to the bedside.
Nebula Nights: Love Among The Stars Page 155
