Moonrise

wall, then stepped out to follow Baj just behind.

His bright javelin-head swept out to the right in demonstration. 'This is death before dying,' he said, apparently uneasy at being so far beneath the snow plain.

' 'After the first death,' Baj said, '- there is no other.''

It was the perfect ancient quote. So fine, so apt, that Dolphus-Shrike was left with no reply, and they stepped down silent behind the others, as all were silent but for the thump and scrape of muk-boot leather, and weapons' soft dink and rattle. Sounds barely heard under North Gate's deep thrumming breath.

… The great circle of gray morning above them had been diminished by their third slow, descending spiral, when the Shrikes stopped and stood still on the steps below. Dolphus eased past and went carefully down to see. A pause, then… before the Shrikes moved on.

When they reached the place, Errol stood and stared, tongue-clicking, A man in furs and bronze half-armor lay on frosting scarlet steps beneath a smoking oil-lamp. His head lay beside him, separate, its eyes a little open, its bearded face remote, dreaming.

'Patience,' Nancy said.

A weapon leaned against the niche wall – a tall staff halberd, topped with ax, hook, and point. The Watcher- constable, greeting a Boston-Talent come Walking-in-air down the dawn's first light, had not reached for it.

… As had hiking the Smoking-mountains, as had climbing the Wall… so the endless stepping down became Baj's world, all their worlds. This was what was done, carefully, and nothing else. The shrinking circle of the brightening winter day above, the column of breathing darkness to their right – darkness now relieved a little by filtering beams of sunlight – were of little interest compared to steps of ice, with hundreds and hundreds left behind… hundreds and hundreds waiting.

Baj's knees ached, his leg muscles burned as if a fire stood beside them. He looked down, and saw that Richard limped a little. Nancy and Errol, so slim and slight, still went sprightly, untroubled – as Baj was slightly troubled – by the yearning tug of that gigantic cyhnder of emptiness beside them, as if falling might fill it for a little while.

'Careful,' Baj called. 'Nancy, careful…'

The Shrikes hadn't paused as they came to each of the next four Watchers. One of those – naked but for his armor – had died still smiling a greeting as Patience came sailing down to him. Another, stricken, had huddled in his sentry niche, been struck again, and disemboweled… Which made for careful stepping past.

The fourth constable had fought. Freezing blood twinkled on his halberd's point. He'd then apparently received a cut that hacked his knee. A second to his face.

This last, like the first to die, had lost his head… Patience had given none the time to toss a warning whistle- ball into the Gate's gulf.

… The Shrikes, Baj and the others following, went down the Fourth Tier, and Fifth, circling… circling always to the right. Then, the Shrikes stood still on the steps.

'Light,' Nancy said, her voice hard to hear in the vibrating drone of upwelling air, air now even richer with odors of life and life's doings.

'light,' Patience agreed, from emptiness just above them. 'Lamplight below, and Boston-town.' She came to settle – the morning's sun a distant brightening disk over her shoulder – came down, stumbled on a step, and recovered in Richard's swift grip. 'It is, despite everything foolish, everything cruel, the wonder of the world.'

'How bad?' Richard said to her, considering blood on a halberd's point.

'Caught a little skin along my ribs.' Patience slid her hand beneath her open coat, brought the hand out stained dark. 'I think he knew me, knew I had no business here any longer.'

'What of that light?' Dolphus-Shrike, climbing back to them.

A soft rich red-gold glow lit the last tier of steps far below, so the steps' chipped ice glistened.

'Last tier,' Patience said, raising her voice a little for the other Shrikes to hear. 'Another turn and we will be on North Gallery… And below that gallery is a boulevard-thoroughfare – Adams – and a muster yard.'

'Constables…'

'Yes, Dolphus. Their Formations, the headquarters for North Gate is held there.'

'How many?' Baj said.

'Three Formations. Over seven hundred men, with officers and band.'

'… Then we certainly wait,' Baj said, 'until the Wolf-General moves against the city, and those people march south.'

'Or we're discovered here,' Dolphus-Shrike tapped his javelin's butt on an ice step, 'and someone throws a fucking whistle-ball down. Then 'those people' will come up and cut us into bait.'

'Have a busy time,' Richard said, 'coming up against us on these steps.'

'Not as busy,' Baj said, 'as we would have, trying to go down against them.'

'The Watchers are dead,' Patience said, 'and no relief till after-noon. No one will climb the steps to meet us… Take your people down, Dolphus, but carefully.'

'On your head, lady.' Dolphus-Shrike started down to his people. 'On all our heads…'

* * *

The last few steps – no longer Steps-Forever – Baj became worried for Nancy, a slip now seeming somehow more likely, so he gripped the hood of her parky as they went, Errol capering below them.

Then he saw Shrikes stumble down the way, saw them stagger at being on a level at last, so they stepped oddly for a distance.

… Eleven final steps counted, and he and Nancy and Richard did the same, stepped down and stumbled, their leg-muscles cramped – but cramps easing as they marched along on evenness at last through what seemed an ice- tunnel, a tunnel wide as a royal road. 'Thank Frozen-Jesus,' Richard said, 'for being off those fucking stairs.'

Then Patience, running from behind as fast as if she flew, coat flapping, called softly loud, 'Leave them!'

The Shrikes, ahead, held still as she and the others caught up. Nancy reached to grip Errol's arm, keep him with her.

In warming light, in a steady draft of odorous air, Dolphus and the other Shrikes held javelin points to six brown-furred bulks clinging to the ice of the tunnel's wall. Baj saw great yellow incisors, small black-button eyes looking down at them, observant, apparently unafraid… There were clawed, black, thin-fingered hands, and splayed clawed feet, webbed, clinging to the tunnel's ice. Each strapped a leather sack and small steel adze from a rounded shoulder… There was a sharp and oily odor.

'Leave them!' Patience jostled the Shrikes aside. 'They're Carver-Persons – they shape the town's ice, keep it proper.'

'I've heard of these, but why let them live?' Dolphus kept his javelin-point at one Person's throat.

'Because…' Patience took hold of the javelin shaft, pushed it aside, 'Because they are beaver-bred, and not for sense – only for chipping ice and removing what they've chipped. They don't speak… and will give no warnings.'

'Still, why leave them, perhaps to come behind us?'

'They make and remake Boston, is why, Dolphus. Leave them.'

Dolphus-Shrike sighed a small cloud of frost, said, 'As you say, lady,' and raised his javelin's point as the other tribesmen raised theirs.

CHAPTER 26

Into growing brightness and richer-scented air – but air still freezing cold – they traveled the tunnel to a glittering blaze of light, then stopped, huddling there.

'North Gallery,' Patience said. 'Dolphus, move – move your people. There'll be no one. The gallery's for Change-of-Watchers… for Carvers.'

The Shrikes stayed reluctant, shading their eyes from the light. Baj stepped past them… and walked out into