'On our approach march, we remarked that this valley might at one time
have been the original course of the Dandera river, and that it seemed
to have cut a new bed for itself through the chasm.'
'That's right,'Nicholas agreed. 'I am still listening.'
'The fall of the land towards the Nile is very steep at this point,
isn't it? Well, do you recall we crossed another smaller, but still
pretty substantial, stream on our way down the dry valley? That stream
seemed to emerge from somewhere on the eastern side of the valley.'
All right, I am with you now. You are suggesting that this may be the
overflow from the sinkholes Clever little devil, aren't you?'
'Just capitalizing on your genius.' She cast down her eyes modestly, and
looked up at him from under her lashes.
She was clowning, but her lashes were long and dense and curling, and
her eyes were the colour of burnt honey with tiny golden highlights in
their depths. At this close range he found them disturbing.
He stood up and suggested, 'Why don't we go and take a look?'
Nicholas went to fetch his camera bag and the light day'pack from his
hut, and when he returned he found Royan ready to go. But she was not
alone.
I see that you are bringing your chaperon with you,' he remarked with
resignation.
'Unless you are tough enough to send him away.' Royan smiled
encouragement at Tamre who stood at her side, grinning and bobbing and
hugging his shoulders in the ecstasy of being in the presence of his
idol.
'Oh, very well.' Nicholas gave in without a struggle.
'Let the little devil come along.'
Tamre lolloped away up the path ahead of them, his grubby shamma
flapping around his long skinny legs, chanting the repetitive chorus of
an Amharic psalm, and every few minutes looking back to make certain
that Royan was still following him. It was a hard pull up the valley,
and the noonday heat was debilitating. Although Tamre seemed totally
unaffected, the other two were both sweating in dark patches through
their shirts by the time they reached the point where the stream
debauched into the valley. Gratefully, they sought the shade of a patch
of acacia trees, and while they rested Nicholas glassed the side of the
valley through his binoculars.
'How are they after the dunking I gave them?' she asked.
'Waterproof,' he grunted, 'full marks to Herr Zeiss.'
'What do you see up there?'
'Not much. The bush is too thick. We will have to foot'slog up the side.
Sorry.'
They left the shade and made their way up the side of the valley in the
direct burning sunlight. The stream tumbled down a series of cascades,
each with a pool at its foot. The bush crowded the banks, lush and green
where the roots had been able to reach the water. Clouds of black and
yellow butterflies danced over the Pools, and a black and white wagtail
patrolled the moss-green rocks along the edge, its long tail gyrating
back and forth like the needle of a metronome.
