able to walk all three of us abreast-for now, at least.
After ten minutes the passage opened out.
“Here’s the second cave.” The ceiling slanted lower here, and we stooped as we entered. I glanced at the map.
The hole was exactly where it was supposed to be. It gaped in the middle of the floor, a misshapen smile.
We crouched near the edge. A mountaineering spike jutted from the ground.
“Temerlin’s?” Elizabeth said.
“Must be,” I said, gripping it and testing its strength. “Still solid.”
“You don’t think he died down here, do you?” she said.
I must confess, gooseflesh erupted across my neck. “Wouldn’t his rope still be here, then?” I said, which I thought was reasonable enough.
“He died elsewhere,” said Konrad calmly. “Or presumably we would not have his map.”
“Quite right,” said Elizabeth with relief.
From his rucksack Konrad pulled out a hammer and a fresh mountaineering spike. “Best to use our own, don’t you think?” he said to me.
“Of course.” I readied the rope-the same knotted line we’d used in the Sturmwald. According to Temerlin’s notes, the hole was a sixty-five-foot vertical drop, hardly more than what we’d undertaken in the vulture’s tree.
I allowed Konrad to drive his spike into the rock, and then I did a second one nearby for good measure. I had been reading up on mountaineering lore (Father’s library really did have a book on everything) and proceeded to feed the rope through both spikes and tie a knot that would only get tighter the more weight was put on it.
“Don’t you need to fold the bitter end over once more?” Konrad asked, watching me carefully.
I looked up in annoyance.
“You’re doing the alpine bowline, yes?” he asked.
“Naturally,” I said. Obviously he’d read the same book. I was hardly surprised, but I was irritated now, for I’d lost my concentration and had to undo the knot and make it over.
“That’s it,” said Konrad.
“I know it is,” I said.
We tied a lantern to the end of the line and lowered it carefully. Hand over hand I counted out the length, and true to Temerlin’s word, the lantern touched down after sixty-five feet.
I went first, climbing down knot by knot, away from one lantern’s light toward the next. I paused to take a look about me. It was no narrow shaft but a huge cathedral of stone into which I descended. In the gloom I beheld great jagged walls of sparkling damp rock, sculpted into columns and deep niches like secret chapels. In places, green fungus shone like tarnished bronze.
When I touched down, I realized I was atop a tall pedestal of staggered stones, its giant steps leading to the cavern floor proper.
I cupped my hands round my mouth and called up, “Safe and sound!” Immediately my shout was amplified and echoed about by the strange walls into something unrecognizable and a bit frightening. I untied the lantern, and Konrad drew the rope back up so that he could lower down our gear. After that, Elizabeth made her descent, and then my brother.
I took a last look at our rope, our one and only way out. And then we started down the giant steps. Each was a good four feet high, and because we were off balance with our heavy packs, we lowered ourselves carefully.
“It is a marvel of nature,” breathed Elizabeth, holding high her lantern and gazing about. I noticed that she was shivering.
Before I could say anything, Konrad asked, “Are you warm enough?”
“I am, thank you,” she said.
The chill had certainly deepened. “Best to keep moving,” I said, and consulted the map once more. “That is our way, here.”
Elizabeth marked our route with chalk. This tunnel was narrower, and we had to walk single file now, heads bowed. At every intersection I paused to look at the map, and Elizabeth made sure to chalk our choice.
We proceeded slowly, for the floor was often uneven, and sometimes dropped suddenly by a foot or two. I was also worried about missing a turn. Mostly the intersections were obvious, but other times the new passages were little more than clefts in the stone, easily hidden in the shadows. Temerlin’s map lacked a good sense of scale, so I was often surprised by how quickly we reached certain intersections-or by how long it took us to reach others.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Half past ten,” said Konrad, to my surprise. An hour and a half already! We paused to drink from our flasks, and swallow some food, but I can’t say I felt much hunger.
“How deep do you think we are?” Elizabeth asked.
“Impossible to say,” Konrad replied.
We continued on, always downward. I was starting to feel the weight of my pack, and regretted how much gear we’d brought. Konrad, however, had uttered no word of complaint, so neither would I. I kept my eyes fixed on the tunnel’s right wall, for our next turn would be there.
“Shall I navigate?” Konrad asked quietly.
“No, I have the knack of it now,” I said curtly.
My turn finally came, and with it the sound of flowing water.
“Excellent,” I said. “Temerlin mentions this. A rivulet flowing down one of the walls.”
With every step the sound of water grew-and it became more obvious that this was no mere rivulet. Mist sparkled in the light of our lanterns. And then suddenly the tunnel widened, and down one side ran a cataract.
“It’s a proper waterfall!” said Konrad.
The sight of it made my heart glad-it was wonderful to see such vital energy in this dead rocky place. I was relieved, too, for it meant the map was true and I had not misled us.
“It must be summer meltwater from the glaciers,” remarked Elizabeth. “It has been unseasonably warm lately. But… how are we to get across?”
The waterfall itself did not block our way-but the chasm into which it plunged did. I edged closer and looked down. The lantern light did not penetrate far, and I wondered just how deep it was. From below came a dim roar. On the other side of this chasm, our tunnel continued.
I swallowed and muttered, “Temerlin said it was no more than a little jump.”
“This is more than a little jump,” Konrad said.
I found the place in the notebook. “‘A short vigorous jump.’”
“He must have been very vigorous,” said Elizabeth.
“It’s not such a great distance,” I said. “Five feet?”
“Six,” said Konrad.
“Don’t go so close,” Elizabeth said to him, clutching his arm as he peered over the edge. “The stone’s wet. It might be slippery.”
“I should have thought to bring a plank,” I muttered.
“You couldn’t have known from Temerlin’s notes,” said Elizabeth kindly.
“Still,” said my brother, “if you’d shared this with us, we might have been better prepared.”
We looked at each other a moment, saying nothing.
“We have a choice,” he said now. “We can turn back and get some kind of bridge-or we jump.”
We were all silent. I could tell no one liked the idea of turning back, me especially. We had already spent at least two hours underground. If we turned back, there could be no hope of completing our quest within the day.
“Let us jump!” said Elizabeth.
Konrad looked at her with some surprise. “You’re sure?”
“I’m a good jumper,” she said.
It was true enough. She’d grown up with us and had chased and been chased in endless games.
“If she can bite a vulture, she can jump a crack,” I said.
