Out of Mischief: World of Change Book 1
Page 1
Out of Mischief
World of Change Book 1
Gordon A. Long
Published by
Airborn Press
4958 10A Ave, Delta, B. C.
V4M 1X8
Canada
Copyright 2014
Gordon A. Long
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form without the express written permission of the author.
ISBN - 978-0-9921243-2-8
Cover
Design by Dusty Hagerud and Gordon A. Long
Model Josie Buter
Photography by Gordon A. Long
Thanks
To Elizabeth Hull for her ideas and her editing
Dusty and Josie for the art work
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
Curiosity may have killed of a lot of cats, but
boredom comes a close second.
1.Contents
1. Caught!
2. Confined to Barracks
3. Hawk’s Egg
4. Challenge
5. Disaster
6. Quest
7. A Companion on the Road
8. Reward for Hard Labour
9. Old Women’s Dreams
10. Journey’s End
11. A New Plan
12. Much More Like It
13. The Real Thing
14. Wake Up
15. Captured
16. Dance
17. Battle
18. Army
19. Aftermath
20. And, of Course, Her Parents
21. A Visit With the Duke
22. A New Partner
23. The Arts of Battle
24. The Same Old Aleria
25. The Mess of Battle
26. Resolution
“Use brute force to solve a problem, and there is no going back. Violence will be one of your options for the rest of your life.”
- Master Ogima
2. Caught!
Aleria crept along the hedge, her eyes straining through the faint dawn light for the gap that would allow access to the window. There it was, a dark splash against the light wood siding. As she pushed through the bushes, the bag clanked. Oh, crap! She froze and waited.
No movement. A sleepy bird chirped, and another answered. The smell of late spring flowers soared over the earthy tang of tilled soil. Reaching up, she clawed at the gap where she had left the window ajar. It gave reluctantly, and she swung the frame out. Slowly…slowly…it was a bit of a scramble to get up on the sill, so she sat, calming her breath and listening. Still nothing. I could get good at this.
As she swung her legs in, the bag caught on the latch and pulled from her hand, dropping with a loud clatter to the ground outside. Double crap! She held her breath, poised to fly in either direction. After an agonizing wait, she breathed again. She looked down. She didn’t want to climb to the ground and back up again. The bag was leaning against the wall. If she could reach…
It was getting light. She’d better do something in a hurry; the servants rose early. Lying on her stomach across the sill and stretching down, she managed to get two fingertips on the bag. The rough cloth gave good purchase, and she wiggled it into her grasp. With a silent sigh of relief, she slid backwards, lifting the bag ever-so-carefully clear, and stood up.
A scream burst from her lips as something sharp jabbed into her back, propelling her against the side of the window frame.
“Stand right where you are!”
She froze, staring at the wood in front of her nose. She was prodded again, not gently.
“All right. Who are you, and what do you think you are doing?”
Relief gushed through her. “Father?”
“What?”
She slipped away from the point and turned towards him. “Father, it’s me. Put the sword away. That hurt!”
There was a suppressed curse, and a sudden beam of light blinded her. “Aleria? Aleria, what are you doing, crawling in the window at this time of the morning?” The lantern flashed downwards. “What’s that in your hand?”
“Nothing.” She put it behind her. Stupid answer. Think, girl, think.
“It doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’ Give it to me.”
That tone in his voice; it wasn’t often directed at her, but when it was, argument was not an option. She held the sack out towards the light. “Could you shine the lantern somewhere else, please, Father? I can’t see a thing.”
“That’s the least of your worries right now, young lady.” The light swooped down. “What’s this? Hammers?” He lifted one, peered at the head. “Dust? Marble dust?”
The light stabbed at her again.” What have you been up to, Aleria? Is this another one of your stunts?”
She shaded her eyes. “Yes, Father, it’s another one of my stunts. It’s over, and it went fine. I didn’t do anything illegal or immoral. It was just a joke, that’s all. A rather good one, I think.”
He swung the light away from her, and in the reflected beam she could make him out, tall and straight in his dressing gown, the sword leaning against his thigh. He stared at her one long moment more, then picked up the sword and turned away. “Come along. I haven’t got much time.”
She followed, trying to seem as meek as possible.
There was a lamp burning in the family lounge. He pointed the sword towards a straight-backed chair and she sat hastily.
“All right. The reason I’m up so early is that I have a long ride and an important meeting with anDennal at his upriver raft landing. I don’t have time to deal with this now, but I will. Don’t worry, I will. When I return in late afternoon, you will be here. Do you follow? No meetings, no friends, no school projects. You will come straight home after classes and wait. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Father. I’ll be here.”
“That would be wise.” He clashed the lantern and sword together in one hand and pulled the door open. Then he turned back. “Just a stunt? Nobody hurt, nothing…” he glanced pointedly at the bag, “…broken?”
She put on her most earnest face. “Nothing important, Father, I promise you. It was just a joke with the girls, that’s all.”
“Hmph.” He seemed about to turn away, when suddenly his head came up and he stared full into her eyes. “Aleria, you are going to be attaining your Cumulato from the Academy in six weeks. You will be then considered a young woman, ready to take her place in society. Why are you still doing this sort of thing?”
He held the stare for a moment longer. Then without another word he was gone.
She sat there a moment, considering. A minor setback, come to think of it. After all, we didn’t actually do anything wrong. She grinned to herself. Well, some people aren’t going to be exactly happy about it, I suppose.
She rose, swung the cedar-paneled door wider and strode towards the back stairs. At least it wasn’t Mother. That doesn’t bear thinking of. Of course, she’ll find out, now. Hmm. I’m going to have to plan this afternoon very carefully…
3. Confined to Barracks
Aleria sat as primly as she could on the hard seat. The plain wooden chair, rather than the padded, brocade-covered lounger she usually used. She checked her dress. Chosen with care as well: blue, Father’s favourite colour – it also set off her eyes and blonde hair – and a modest calf-length. As she watched her father pace, she tried to look the picture of a young woman ready to take her place in society. The last thing I want, but at the moment…
She regarded her father, boot-hee
ls rapping, deep in thought, but smoothly avoiding the numerous chairs, tables, and other delicate bric-a-brac crafted of beautifully grained hardwoods that made the family lounge one of the coziest rooms in the house. He’s slowing down. Here it comes. She schooled her features to a pleasant smile, trying to control the quaking inside.
He spun to face her. “You realize I’m going to have to let you get away with this.”
Aleria’s heart lurched, and she examined her father’s face. He wouldn’t be joking about something as serious as this. Had she heard him correctly?
“Yes, that’s what I said. You chose your cohorts well for your little escapade.”
She thought of Hana and Gita, probably going through a similar experience at their own home this very moment. They had done their share: planting the sculptures perfectly, not getting caught. Surely that couldn’t be what he meant. He didn’t even know the details yet. Hopefully, some of the details he would never know. Especially how I persuaded the Temple guard to look the other way.
Her father was staring at her as if expecting a response. Coming up with nothing, she shrugged in what she hoped was a helpless manner. “I don’t know what you mean, Father.”
He threw up his hands. “Aleria, I don’t expect you to understand all the intricacies of my position. But surely you realize that the Dennal family would be rather upset if they thought that my child had led their darling daughters into any sort of indiscretion.”
“Father! We did nothing indiscreet!”
“You consider putting up statues in the Artists’ Corner of the Temple Garden to be the model of prudence, do you? And what about smashing them apart afterwards?”
From the look in her father’s eye, she realized it was no time to argue. Wait it out; maybe further information was forthcoming. She sat a bit straighter, tried to look attentive.
“You have, I assume, heard about the Shaeldit situation.”
Then it all clicked: the last time the Dennal family had visited. As usual, she and the Twins had hardly been listening to their fathers nattering on. Policy decisions were often made around the banquet table, and that evening had been no exception. Thinking back, she remembered her father’s earnest discussion with his ally, and the reluctant admissions the senior Dennal had made.
“Yes, of course…”
“I don’t think you realize how serious it is down there.” He flung his hand towards the south. “There are people being killed. Murdered. And why? Because they’re people like us. People of Rank, with enough property that others are jealous. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I want you to understand how serious this is. The leaders of that rebellion were carrying Mechanical weapons.”
She frowned. “You mean guns? They aren’t allowed to have guns. Nobody is. They aren’t safe!”
“Nobody told the rebels that. I don’t know how they smuggled them in from Domaland, but they had them.” He paced a few steps away, then turned back. “That’s the sort of problem I’m dealing with, and anDennal has become my strongest supporter, in spite of the fact that all his river shipping is from the north, where there hasn't been any trouble.”
Her father dropped to the settee in front of her and leaned forward, a sudden flush coming to his face, and she realized how upset he was. “Did you choose your accomplices because you knew their father’s status in this project would protect you?”
She had rarely seen her father angry, especially with her, and she thought quickly. A protestation of complete innocence would work, but she rejected the idea. He would never know if he could believe her. Perhaps the truth will work.
“Not exactly, father. I chose them because they are good friends and because I knew they could handle their end of the task. I don’t suppose I considered their family positions, as such, but I knew they would be safe. They wouldn’t be my friends if they weren’t. If anything went wrong, it wouldn’t make us politically vulnerable.”
“What did Mito have to do with this?”
“I couldn’t involve her in even that much risk. Some of those moss-beards on the Board would just love an excuse to throw her out of the Academy because of her uncle’s so-called disgrace. It’s unfair, but that’s the way it is, so I never even told her.”
Her father sank back, and she could see he was mollified. “So you did, in spite of the evidence, show a smattering of judgement. Perhaps you realize what you have put in jeopardy?”
Exasperation took the place of fear, and she jumped to her feet. “Oh, Father, I haven’t put anything in jeopardy. It was just three schoolgirls playing a prank, that’s all. We didn’t do any real harm. Your precious contracts to move wood from the North and coal from the East will continue, as they always have.”
“That was more good luck than anything else.”
“No it wasn’t. I planned it all very carefully. There was very little chance of getting caught, let alone causing any harm.” She moved towards him. “Come on, Father. It went perfectly!”
She could see her father’s mouth twist, and she knew she had him. He rose and ran a hand along the teak sideboard. She had seen that gesture before, too, and knew that the smooth curve of the wood seemed to comfort him. Then he turned back to her. “You realize you have caused a certain amount of embarrassment to the Artists’ Guild.”
“Oh, that stuffy bunch.” Relieved, she sat again, in a more relaxed pose. If I can get him going on art criticism… “You know as well as I do that Ralule can sculpt as well as any of them, but he uses too many Mechanical tools, so they won’t let him sell any of his work in the Royal Gallery.”
“Ah. So that’s where you got the sculptures.”
“I did not! I got them from a trader. I happened to see him unloading them from one of our wagons down at the yard. He only had the four – imitations of Wotahg works from Sixth Century Aesmark – but they were probably made in Domaland.”
“How could you tell?”
“The stone was polished, but if you looked at the bases, they weren’t chiselled by hand. They were done by Mechanics. Aesmark doesn’t have that much industry. In Domaland their machinery can turn out that sort of stuff by the cartload.”
“Why did the trader bring them here? He must have known he wouldn’t be allowed to sell them.”
“He didn’t know, and when I told him, he couldn’t think what to do with them. That’s when I got the idea. I bought them before anyone else saw them. That way no one had any idea who the artist was. That was the real fun part of the whole thing. The Artists’ Guild thought the Temple had put them up, and the Temple thought the Artists had. Once they had been there for a while, people started to say how good they were, and both the Temple and the Artists started to stick out their chests about the whole thing. They were quite good, actually. For copies. The hardest part of the whole thing was when we had to smash them.”
“And what do you expect me to do now?”
“I don’t expect you to do anything.”
“So you plan to leave this uproar going on? The Temple, the Guild and the King’s soldiers all looking for the sacrilegious villains who smashed the art work in the Temple grounds? How can I go to them and admit that it was all a childish prank by my daughter and her friends? I can’t even mention the friends, because then I will expose their family to public censure. Not a particularly good gift for a new ally.”
“Father. There you go again, taking all the responsibility for everything.” She leaned forward with enthusiasm. “You don’t have to do anything. Everybody knows by now what really happened. They finally looked at the bases and realized they weren’t properly made Art. Word was all around the Academy by noon today. I was told the whole story by three different people.” She grinned. “They even had most of the facts straight.”
“You mean everyone knows it was a hoax, but no one knows you did it?”
“So far.”
“What do you mean, ‘so far’? Is anyone going to find out?”
She shrugged. “Not as long as the
people who know keep their mouths shut. Perhaps you should contact the Twins’ parents, in case they go off on a tangent.”
Her father’s face hardened. “I do not choose my allies, young lady, from people who might ‘go off on a tangent’ at the first sign of trouble. I will be hearing from the Dennal family soon. Was there no one else involved?”
She considered. “The merchant is long gone. The Temple has no idea when the statues went up. We put them in when the repairs were going on, so no one used that area for weeks. I don’t see any problems. If you hadn’t caught me coming through the window with the hammers, no one would have been the wiser.”
“I can think of several other ‘ifs’ that could have happened.”
“True, so can I. But you have to remember; we weren’t breaking any laws. The statues were my property, and I could smash them if I wanted to. Think of the positive side, Father. If you get anDennal’s daughters out of this, you’ll be a hero, and it will help the relationship.”
“Except it was you that got them into it.”
“His pride won’t let him believe they were followers.”
Her father shook his head. “I know, I know. I just wish you wouldn’t get involved in this sort of silliness.”
“It wasn’t silly, Father. I had a point to make. I think I made it rather clearly, don’t you? Those so-called “artists” in the Guild can’t do anything original. They only copy the Ancient Masters. For example, what do you think of this new fad that they are so proud of?”
“Which ‘fad’ is that?”
She smiled at him. “You obviously don’t follow the Art scene. The latest philosophy in Art circles is that it’s conceited to think that anyone could make a work that is perfect. Only the Gods can create perfection. So they say every work of Art should have a small flaw inserted, so as not to anger the Gods by trying to achieve perfection.”
“That sounds very pious to me.”
“But it isn’t. It’s the opposite!”
Her father cocked his head. “What do you mean, the opposite?”
“Think about it, Father!”
He considered for a moment. “I see. If you have to insert a flaw, it means you think you are capable of creating perfection. Which is challenging to the Gods.”
She leaned forward, pleased. “Exactly. If you truly believe that only the Gods can achieve perfection, you try your best, knowing that there will be flaws, no matter how hard you try.”
Her father smiled and shook his head. “That’s pretty complicated thinking.”
“That’s the kind of thing artists discuss all the time, Father. They taught us about it in Aesthetics class last term. But the established artists are so devoid of creativity, they spend all their time talking about things like that and they don’t have any idea of what true art is, or how to create it. That’s why it was so easy to fool them.”
“But why did you need to fool them?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It isn’t just the artists. It’s everyone. All these rules about what’s Mechanical and what isn’t, because somehow inventing Mechanical things challenges the Gods. It always sounds to me more like Mechanical things challenge everyone who is making a lot of money with the old ways.”
“Like horse-and-wagon cartage?”
“Yes, even our business. And it’s going to destroy us all in the long run. We learned about it in Evolutionary Science last year. A species that doesn’t adapt to a changing environment is doomed.”
“You think I should be importing one of those steam-engine tractors we saw when we visited Domaland last year.”
“It pulled seven full cartloads of coal, twice as fast as a man can walk.”
“And did you see what it did to the road?”
“Obviously we would need better roads.”
“And can you see carrying the parts of one of those monsters around the Chanaan Canyon Rapids?”
She shuddered at the memory. “With the road hanging out hundreds of feet above the river? I wouldn’t want to be the one driving that wagon.”
“And a bigger obstacle than the rough country is the incredible weight of popular sentiment in this realm. For most of the population, ‘Mechanical’ equals ‘Sinful,’ and that’s an end to it.”
She threw up her hands. “I know, I know. It would cause more trouble than it’s worth. I just can’t help but wish…I don’t know. That I could see some hope of change.”
He shook his head again and smiled wryly. “So you don’t think I should do anything about this.”
“I told you, it’s all taken care of.”
“I don’t mean the matter of the sculptures. As I told you, I have to let that ride for political reasons. I mean the matter of my daughter doing such a prank. Don’t you think some punishment is in order?”
“Oh, Father. It was so funny, and it worked so well! I thought you would be proud of me.” She hung her head. It wasn’t hard to seem disappointed. She had hoped that he would at least laugh a bit.
“Well, I suppose I’m going to have to think about it.”
Aleria’s heart gave another leap. When her father started thinking about something she had done, it usually meant no more action. She was about to throw her arms around his neck when a strident voice cut her off.
“Think about it? Is that all you’re going to do?”
She spun to face her mother, heat rushing to her face. How much did she hear?
“Well, my little schemer. What have you to say for yourself? There are all sorts of stories going around the market, and I can see your meddling in every one of them. This is a pretty mess you’ve got us into.”
“But I haven’t, Mother. It’s all going to blow over. No one at the Temple or the Guild will dare to let on that the statues were fakes and they didn’t recognize it.”
“And you think the Dennal family won’t do anything about it because they don’t want the publicity. And you have persuaded your father all this, and he’s going to let you off completely free.” She turned and glared at her husband.
He smiled gently, warding off her stare with a graceful wave. “Now, Leniema, it’s not that bad. She is right about the political implications. And at the moment it wouldn’t be wise to punish her overtly, in case someone starts asking why.”
Good old Father. She hadn’t even thought of that angle. She sat back to enjoy watching one of the most respected politicians at Court turn his considerable talents to her benefit. She could see that her mother was already softening before that gentle smile, that ‘don’t worry, everything is in hand’ calm.
Her mother accepted her father’s invitation to sit beside him, but frowned. “Well, we have to do something!”
“Of course. But perhaps we should wait to see how this all turns out. Did any of the stories point towards Aleria?”
“I was listening for that, let me tell you! No, as far as gossip goes, the main suspects are the Guild apprentices and the students at the University.”
“So no one would even think that a few schoolgirls could manage something so complicated.”
Aleria’s mouth opened, but a warning twitch of her father’s finger silenced her. She was surprised to see a touch of a smile on her mother’s lips.
“No, I suppose not.”
Her Father settled back, pulling his wife into the crook of his arm, and Aleria felt suddenly lonely. They are so handsome together. I don’t want them angry with me. Come on, Father, make this work!
“So there we are. If nothing else happens, we have a little story to go down in the private family annals. ‘The Day Aleria Became a Critic.’ That has a ring to it.”
Her mother pulled away. “Don’t treat this lightly. If they get caught…”
“It doesn’t look as if they are going to, and if they do, we can pass it off as a childish prank. After all, those stuffy Artists are going to be even more happy to keep it under wraps if they find out it was children who fooled them.”
“We aren’t children!”
Her mother’s head snapped around. “You will be happy enough to hide behind your childhood if it means you can duck the responsibility for your childish actions!” Her mother controlled her expression. “Aleria, I know you are not completely insensitive. I know you think that at the proper time you will grow up and stop doing these things. But what if one of your stunts now has an outcome that will affect the person you will become? That worries me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…what if you hurt yourself and are crippled for life? No, don’t bother arguing. I know you think you are more careful than that. It’s impossible to predict the results as long as you refuse to show enough responsibility to stop of your own accord.”
Her father frowned as well. “Yes, I think our young schemer has not demonstrated proper contrition for her deed. Some small punishment is required. I will think on it between now and supper.”
Her mother jumped up. “Supper! This whole situation put it clear out of my head. I’ll have to go down to the kitchen to supervise, or those girls will never get the sauce seasoned properly. Why did the cook’s mother have to get ill just now?”
“The cook’s mother is a very nice old lady, and I’m sure she would have arranged her illness to suit your schedule if you had let her know ahead of time.”
Leniema tousled her husband’s hair. “You know what I meant. Now I’m going to the kitchen to do my duty. You do yours.” She jumped up, turned to look down at her daughter. “I am not pleased with you, young lady.” She continued the turn towards the door.
“Mother?”
“Yes?”
“Could I help? With the dinner, I mean. If there were some vegetables to cut, or something…”
Her mother’s face softened. Slightly. “You had too much fun with those hammers this morning. I’m not going to let you anywhere near a knife. I recall what happened the last time.” With one meaningful glance, she swept out of the room.
Aleria’s father looked up at her. “What did she mean by that?”
She felt her face get hot. “Oh, nothing. It was years ago. I was just practising, you see…”
“Practising?”
“Yes. You know…throwing them?” She flicked her wrist.
Her father shook his head. “Let me guess. With the kitchen knives.”
She shrugged and grinned. “There weren’t any others around.”
“At least you know when to keep your mouth shut.”
She glanced up to see her father smiling. “Oh, I know Mother better than that. I never cross her when she’s angry.”
“You mean you haven’t recently.”
She winced at memories of a few years ago, when broken crockery and scattering servants had been the order of the day. “I guess I’ve grown up a bit.”
“Well, I could wish you would grow up a bit more. I don’t like it when the two of us have to gang up on your mother. It isn’t fair.”
“You two gang up on me all the time.”
“We’re your parents, dear. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Now come and give me a kiss, and then trot off and do whatever you need to before supper. We will be having company.”
“I didn’t know anyone was invited.”
“They weren’t. But I had a feeling that anDennal was going to want to talk to me and I thought a good meal would smooth the conversation. I sent to him before I talked to you.”
“Shall I ask the major-domo to bring out some of the Lodim wine?”
He smiled up at her as she stood over him, and she knew she was forgiven. “A very wise thought. Make it two bottles.” He held his cheek up, and she kissed it softly, holding the hug a little longer than usual.
“Thanks, Father.”
“Thanks for what?” His voice was grumpy, but she could tell when he was putting on a show. She bounced from the room, determined to be extra mature and gracious to anDennal tonight.
4. Hawk’s Egg
Mito stretched out her arms and lifted her face to the sun. “This is so beautiful. I love getting out of the city.” Then she turned to look at Aleria. “If you’re confined to the house, why are we out here on this cliff?”
“Because I need these eggs for my Biology Final Project. They have to be around here somewhere. Dr. Anvrille said raptors always nest on the highest riverbanks. I saw a pair spiraling down just below this tree. They must have a nest. Here. Hold this rope.”
“What is the rope for?”
“Safety. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
“Do I?”
“Just put the rope around that tree, and stand over here.”
“And do what?”
“Pay out the rope as I go over the edge.” Aleria was looping the rope around her chest under her arms.
“Pay out the rope. What if you go over the edge for real?”
“Then you hold onto the rope, of course.”
Mito looked down at her slender hands, then up at Aleria.
“The tree provides enough friction. You can hold my weight easily.”
The smaller girl tugged experimentally. “And if I want more friction, I just move farther around the tree.”
“Good idea.”
“If the tree holds.” Mito pushed experimentally against the trunk, which flexed slightly. “That’s not a very big tree.”
“Don’t worry. These trees have their roots knotted into the cracks in the rock. They’re very tough.”
“Aleria, you have done this before?”
“Not really.” She tugged the knot in front of her to be sure it was tight. “I heard the boys talking about it. It sounded very logical.”
“Until we find out something we forgot to think of.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport. I need those eggs.” Aleria started down the rocky slope, but it soon steepened to the point where she turned and backed down on all fours.
“All right. I’m at the edge now. It isn’t that steep below me. Lots of ledges and broken rock. This ought to be easy.”
Mito’s voice came to her faintly, swept away by the breeze.
“What did you say?”
Louder this time. “I hope so!”
Aleria backed down farther, peering around below her for footholds and any sign of a nest.
Nothing. She climbed down farther, aware that the rock was getting smoother and steeper, and the clear drop to the riverbed below was a long way down.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine. How much rope left?”
“Lots. You haven’t used half yet.”
“Good. I’m going down more.”
“Be careful.”
“You said that before.” She stretched one leg down, found solid footing, followed with the other. As far as she could tell, the nest wasn’t much lower, and just around that bulge of rock. She shouted up loudly, to be sure Mito could hear. “I’m moving along the cliff to the east, now.”
“Who said anything about a cliff?”
“Just hold the rope. Be ready.”
“For what?”
“In case I slip. I don’t have good handholds at this point.”
“All right. I’m holding on.”
“You have to let go a little or I can’t move.”
“All right. I’m letting go. A little.”
Slowly, Aleria edged sideways, leaning outward to see what was around the corner.
“There it is!”
“What?”
“The nest, of course. Give a little more.”
“All right.”
“Whoa! Pull in. That was too much. I’m going another way.” She climbed a bit higher, but soon ran out of handholds completely on the smooth rock. “No, that didn’t work either.”
She worked farther down, but try as she might, Aleria could get no nearer to the nest. The bulge pushed her out too far, and she was afraid she might overbalance.
“Pull in the rope. I’m coming up.”
She scrambled back up the rock face, surprised
at how short the distance was. Mito kept the rope taut as she came.
“What’s wrong?”
“The nest is on the far side of a big smooth spot that sticks out sort of, like this.” Aleria gestured with her hands. “ I can’t get at it from this side without swinging my weight on the rope.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“We’ll reserve it for a moment of desperation. But I want to try from the other side, and maybe straight down from the top, as well.”
Mito shrugged. “You’re the one on the end of the rope.”
“Away I go.”
“Don’t you want a rest?”
“Not really. It’s only about ten feet down, you know. Until I get over the rim, it isn’t really climbing, just scrambling.” She started down farther to the left.
She tried several ways down, but no matter how she clambered and stretched, she could not find a path to the nest. Always it sat there rather smugly on its tiny ledge. When she climbed straight down from the top, she could see three mottled eggs in it, but they were almost straight down, and the ledge was very narrow.
“I’m coming back up. I need a rest.”
Once again she scrambled to the top.
“No luck?”
“None at all. The only way is to go straight down over the edge, using the rope.”
“But I can’t hold you.”
“Of course you can. If you need more friction, just move around the tree more.”
“And what about when you want to come up?”
“I’ll just hand-over-hand up the rope like we do in the gymnasium. As I said, it isn’t far.”
Mito shook her head. “I still don’t like it, but you’re the one out there. I trust you not to make any mistakes.”
“So do I. There’s a couple of sandwiches in the bottom of the pack. Let’s take a break.”
The sandwiches were rather squashed, but they ate them with pleasure anyway, leaning shoulder-to-shoulder against the narrow tree trunk and looking out over the river canyon below.
After a while, Mito glanced over at her. “So how is this ‘punishment’ of your father’s going to be a punishment?”
“Well, I’m confined to the house until we start our Quest, except for school and the official Cumulato meetings. How mortifying.”
Mito looked concerned. “But what about the Departure Gala? You’ll miss that.”
“I wasn’t too concerned about it anyway. I was going to come home early to get rested up for the next day’s travel. No chance I’m going to start my Quest with a hangover.”
“Do you think your father would let you have company?”
“Mito, don’t you even think about it! You go to the parties, have some fun.”
“You may have noticed; I’m not that popular at the parties.”
Aleria frowned at her friend. “Don’t be ridiculous. The Twins like you. Several of the boys are interested, if you’d only let them be.”
“The Twins are the Twins. They’ll be nice enough, but they always have their own agenda, which nobody except you can break in on. And you know I can’t afford to get mixed up with boys. I have to get my education.”
“I know, I know. We’ve been through it a hundred times. It suits me just as well, since I don’t find any of them interesting enough to bother about.”
She rose, dusting her hands together. “Let’s figure out this rope. I’m going to back down, with my feet against the cliff. You’re going to let the rope out slowly, and I just walk down.”
“Sounds easy. It won’t be.”
“It slopes gently at first. You’ll be able to test it out before it gets steep.”
“Let’s do this before I think about it too much.”
“That’s my girl.”
“I hope you’re still here to own me when this is all over.”
Aleria walked to the edge of the drop, and Mito took up the tension. “I’ll turn around now. Start holding some of my weight. Remember, if it starts slipping, just move farther around the tree.”
Mito merely nodded, her face serious, her knees slightly bent as she took the strain.
Confident of her friend’s ability, Aleria leaned back against the comforting strength of the rope and started down. Soon the slope became steeper, and she began to feel a tightening around her chest. Her foot slipped, and the weight came harder.
“Ouch!” She scrabbled with her feet. “Well, we learned something there.”
Mito’s voice came faintly over the edge. “What did we learn?”
“The reason why they put several loops around their chests. That rope really cuts. In tender places.”
“How are you going to get back up?”
“I’m not ready, yet. I haven’t got to the nest. Let me down some more.”
Soon she was leaning back almost horizontally, and more and more weight was coming on the rope. She looked down. The nest was just below her.
“Wait! Aleria, stop!”
“I’m almost there! Give a little more.”
“You have to stop. Now!”
Something in her friend’s voice brought her up sharply.
“What’s wrong?”
“Come back up. Slowly. Don’t put any more weight on the rope than you have to.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Come up!”
“Coming. Hold it tight.” As smoothly as she could, and very aware of the steep drop at her back, Aleria hauled herself, hand over hand, back up the cliff. It took much longer this way, and by the time her feet began to get a decent purchase she was sweating and her fingers ached.
When she got to the top, Mito was all the way around the other side of the tree, pulling away from her.
“What’s going on?”
“The tree was bending.”
“Bending?” She put a hand to the tree and pushed. It gave, but not that much. “That’s not a problem.”
“Push the other way. Look!” Mito pushed the tree out towards the cliff, and, sure enough, there was a slight movement in the moss at the base, as if a root was trying to burst out of the ground.
Aleria tried the same move, thinking. “When I pull down on this side, and you pull down over here, we’re both trying to pull the tree over. But when I came up, you were all the way around on the side of the tree opposite the cliff, and you were pulling against me, and helping the tree. It was working fine.”
Mito did not say anything for a moment, and Aleria kept testing the pull, watching the moss heave over the root.
“Aleria. Look at me.”
She obediently met Mito’s eyes, which were dark and slitted. Her finely drawn features were harsher than Aleria had ever seen them.
“Don’t think of me as your quiet little friend Mito who follows along and does almost everything you ask. Think of me as Mito from a poor family, who spends all her school breaks at home, where there is a mill, a farm, and a cartage company, without enough people to do all the work, where a willing hand is always welcome. Someone who knows ropes, and weights and the strength of things.”
“And?”
“And someone who has seen accidents, and blood spilled and bones broken, because the equipment is too weak or too old or not used correctly. I have seen that tree working with your weight on it, and with a sustained pull, it will fail. Not right away, but soon. You are not going over that cliff again.”
Aleria considered. “And if I tie the rope to the tree, and just go down it hand-over-hand?”
Mito’s eyes narrowed. “Then I will have it untied before you get two steps, no matter how tight you do the knot.” She dove into her rucksack, came out with a paring knife. “And if that doesn’t work, I will cut it.”
Aleria nodded. “You’re rather serious.”
“I’m glad you finally figured that out. I tell you, I have seen men injured, and I will not be a party to you doing the same.”
Aleria sighed and shrugged. “All right. You’ve convinced me.” She p
ut her back against the offending tree and slid down. “What do I do now for eggs?”
“You use hen’s eggs like everyone else.”
“I suppose. How boring.”
Mito’s attention wandered, and she strolled over to the edge of the drop-off. Then she turned back. “You went about this backwards, didn’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t find this nest, then go looking for a way to get down to it. You heard the boys talking about the rope method, and went looking for an excuse to use it.”
“Sort of.”
“So you never really looked around, did you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Give me a moment.” With a quick flip of her wrist, the smaller girl tied the end of the rope firmly to the tree. Then, using the friction of the rope across her lower back to steady herself, she eased down to where the ridge began to steepen, looking all the while over the edge. Then she clambered back up and lowered herself on the other side of the bulge.
When she returned, she looked satisfied. “You never really looked at it from the bottom, did you?”
“Of course not. It’s four times as far, and steeper.”
“But over on the left there is a lot of broken rock that looks like an easy scramble, and a ledge that gets you right across to the nest.”
“There is?”
“Take a look.”
Aleria took a turn on the rope. Sure enough, there was a route. “Looks like it might work.”
“So, do you really want these eggs, or are you satisfied with your little adventure as it stands?”
“I really want them. I know I could use chicken eggs, but if I get some hawk’s eggs I might be able to raise them after they hatch so I can hunt with them.”
“All right.” Mito pointed. “You go down into the bottom over there, where the cliff drops away. I’ll sit up here in the sun and have a nice rest and enjoy the view. When you get back up to the ledge, call out and I’ll throw the rope down so you can use it as a safety while you crawl along to the nest. The tree is strong enough for that, if I pull away from the cliff.”
“You seem to have it all figured out.”
“It’s just an idea. You do whatever you like.”
Aleria grinned, picked up her rucksack and strode away, whistling. Everyone always said ladies shouldn’t whistle, but it always gave her such a lift while she walked.
She arrived some time later – hot, sweating, and without the breath to whistle – at the top of the rockslide. Sure enough the ledge was a short scramble above her. She called out, and sat to rest until the rope slithered down.
A faint voice came from over the top. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“How many eggs do you really need?”
“Just one, but I’ll take them all just in case.”
“No. Just take one.”
“Why?”
“You’ll find out.”
It wasn’t worthwhile carrying on an argument at such distance, so she shrugged and started along the ledge. She walked the first part, but soon it narrowed, and she turned her face in and sidled along. The rope was almost more hassle than it was worth, catching on the overhanging rocks as she tried to flip it around them. However, mindful of her friend’s warnings, she fought grimly on.
Soon the ledge narrowed even further, and she could no longer stand, but she could see the nest. She lay, face to the cliff, wriggling her body forward, left hand outstretched, right hand twisted in the rope.
Suddenly there was a sharp cry, and a whoosh of wind blew past her. With difficulty, she twisted her head around to see. Another whoosh, and a fury of feathers lashed at her with sharp talons, catching her sleeve and tearing the cloth like paper. The next time there was a strong tug to her pack, almost overbalancing her, and she scrabbled for a grip on the smooth rock.
This is getting serious. I have to move. Well, here goes…
She launched herself forward, ignoring scratched knees and bruised ribs, and snatched one egg from the nest. The hawk screamed again in rage and attacked, catching her hair this time, its talons tugging painfully.
“All right, little lady. I get the point. One egg.”
She began to edge backwards, but she only had one hand in front to push with, and it was occupied with the egg. Trying not to think where the egg had been, she put it in her mouth and squirmed back. It tasted foul and made her mouth water, but she determined not to swallow. As she retreated, the bird swooped past several times, but did not make contact. Perhaps birds can’t count
Once again, a faint voice from above. “How are you doing?”
She grinned around the egg and did not answer, merely flipping the rope again. Soon she was able to stand up, and she pulled the shiny-clean egg from her mouth so she could shout upward. “I’m fine. One egg. Thanks for telling me.”
“I thought you’d figure it out. You finished with the rope?”
“It’s all yours.” She untied the knot and watched her safety line swing away. Suddenly the rocks below seemed sharper, farther down.
“See you at the bottom.”
The rope snaked upwards. Aleria took off her knapsack, noting a couple of deep slashes across the leather flap, and placed the egg in the cotton wool she had brought. A quick scramble down through the rocks and she was striding along beside the creek, heart high.
Mito was waiting farther down. “How did you get along with Mummy?”
Aleria turned around to reveal her packsack.
“She could have pulled you right off the ledge!”
“I was holding on pretty tight.” She displayed her torn fingernails. “There are equal slashes dug into in the rocks up there.”
Mito merely shook her head and led the way back to the trail, Aleria following with a light step, her mind full of the swoop and soar of a hawk in flight.