'Do something, icky,' Royan whispered. 'We have to do something for
him.'
Nicholas looked at her and shook his head. Royan's eyes flooded with
tears, and they broke over her lower lids and scattered like raindrops
into Tamre's upturned face, diluting the blood to the pink of ros6 wine.
'We can't just sit here and let him die,' she Protested, and at the
sound of her voice Tamre opened his eyes and looked into her face.
He smiled through the blood, and that smile lit his dusty, broken face.
'Ummee!' he whispered. 'You are my mother. You are so kind. I love you,
my mother.'
The words were bitten off and a spasm stiffened his body. His face
contorted with agony and he gave a soft, strangled cry, and then
slumped. The rigidity went out of his shoulders and his head rolled to
one side.
Royan sat for long time holding his head and weeping softly, but
bitterly, until Nicholas touched her hand and said EentIv. 'He is dead,
Royan.'
She nodded. 'I know. He held on just long enough to say goodbye to me.'
He let her mourn a little longer, and then he told her softly, 'We must
go, my dear.'
'You are right. But it is so hard to leave him here. He never had
anybody. He was so alone. He called me mother.
I think he truly loved me.'
'I know he did,' Nicholas assured her, lifting the boy's dead head from
her lap and helping her to her feet. 'Go wait for me. I will cover him
the best I can.' down an Nicholas crossed Tamre's hands upon his chest,
and folded his fingers around the silver crucifix that hung around his
neck. Then he piled loose rock carefully over him, covering his head so
that the crows and vultures could not reach him.
He slid down to where she waited in the water, and slung his pack over
one shoulder.
'We must go on,' he told Royan.
She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and nodded. 'I am
ready now.'
They waded upstream, pushing hard against the current. The rock-slide
had blocked half the river bed and the waters squeezed through the gap
that was left. When at last they reached the point on the bank above the
avalanche, they climbed out of the river and picked their way up the
steep bank until at last they could crawl out on to the intact section
of the pathway.
They took a moment to recover and looked back. The river below the
rock-slide was running red-brown with mud. Even if the monks at the
monastery downstream had not heard the explosions, they would be alarmed
by that flood of discoloured water and would come to investigate.
They would find the bodies and take them down for decent burial. That
thought comforted Royan a little as they struck out along the trail,
with two days' hard travel still ahead of them.
Royan was limping heavily now, but each time Nichoto help her she
brushed his hand away. 'I am all right. It's just a bit stiff.' She
