him like a vast, unmarked plain. It seemed like a whole world of opportunities stood before him, just waiting for him to decide which path to take. Just choose the right path …
When Bradok awoke, the cheery orange light of the fire had died, leaving only the pale blue light of the lamps illuminating the cavern. In their unwavering glow, the cavern seemed somehow sinister, like an evil version of itself. He pushed such thoughts from his mind and rose carefully, so as not to wake anyone.
A few embers glowed among the coals of the fire, inviting him to feed them with fresh wood, which he did. In a few moments, he had a cheery little blaze going.
“That’s much better,” Rose said, materializing out of the semidarkness on the far side of the fire. “The glowlamps may burn for years without fuel, but their light has always made me feel as if a shadow was hanging over me.”
Bradok chuckled quietly. “I was thinking the same thing,” he admitted.
“Still,” she added, turning to look at one of the lamps hanging on the end of a pole that had been thrust into the sand, “I suppose we’d better get used to them. I suspect we have a long walk ahead of us.”
“I hope it isn’t too long,” he said, poking the fire with a stick. “We’ve only got food for a few days.”
“Then we’d better get moving soon,” Rose said.
He nodded, looking around at the still, sleeping forms. Many of the dwarves who had escaped Ironroot by boat were old, well past their prime, and there were close to a dozen children.
“And then there’s Lyra,” Bradok whispered to himself more than to Rose.
But Rose heard and, turning to look at the figure of the sleeping pregnant woman, nodded.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” she said. “She won’t hold us back.”
Bradok shrugged. Some of the others were beginning to wake. “But what do we do if she has her baby?” he asked quietly.
“Let Tal worry about that,” Rose said, nodding at her still-sleeping brother with a smile. “He’s good under pressure.”
“You both have the same surname …?” Bradok said, changing the subject, but letting the sentence hang more like a question.
When Rose smiled, as she did at that moment, it struck Bradok how attractive she was. She didn’t have the flawless lines and elegant features of some city girls Bradok had courted, but rather a more natural, earthy beauty, like deep mountain jade.
“I’m not married,” she said, lowering her voice too, the firelight burnishing a line across the hair that fell into her eyes. “Not to Tal or his brother … or anyone.”
If Bradok had just been told that the Mountain King wanted him to design his crown, he wouldn’t have been more pleased. The knowledge that Rose had a brother and not a husband made him feel like a schoolboy in love- giddy and light-headed.
If Rose noticed anything amiss, she gave no sign. Instead she pointed past the lamplight, where the image of the seer had pointed.
“Shouldn’t we get going?” she asked.
Bradok took out the compass and, holding it firmly, nodded.
“Then, for Reorx’s sake, let’s go,” Kellik said impatiently, striding into the firelight. He’d clearly overheard much of their conversation, and was shaking his head disapprovingly. “All the fish got et last night, so all we got are cold rations,” he added. “We ought to put a few miles under our feet before breakfast.”
Bradok would have rather eaten first, but Kellik was probably right. He had already passed by, leading his sons down to the river’s edge to fill their waterskins. Rose glanced over at Bradok and smiled, amused by the smith. Bradok shrugged.
“All right, walk first,” he said with a sigh. “Eat later. Everyone, wake up! Let’s go!”
Before the echo of his words had faded away, however, Chisul stood up and called out the same orders in a louder voice.
“All right everyone, we need to get moving,” Chisul said. “We don’t know how far we have to go, so we’d better get started. Pack up your gear and don’t forget to fill your waterskins.”
Bradok looked sheepishly at Rose, who was even more amused.
A flurry of activity followed, during which all the rest of the dwarves got up, stretched, and prepared for the journey ahead.
“He’s full of good ideas,” Bradok said in a low voice, sidling closer to Rose.
Rose grinned before her face turned serious. “I don’t much care for him, to be honest,” she said in a low voice. “He seems to need to be right all the time.”
Bradok frowned. The same thought had occurred to him. “He’s probably harmless,” he said.
“Probably,” she agreed, sounding unconvinced.
“Well, I better go make sure nobody needs any help,” he said, moving off reluctantly.
“You go,” Rose said, walking toward the water. “I’m ready. But there’s something I’d really like to do first.”
Wondering what she meant, Bradok made his way back to where he slept and packed up his gear. As he shouldered his worn traveling pack, he opened a small oilcloth with the remnants of the previous night’s fish inside. He took the fish and popped the remaining piece in his mouth. Bradok had never been much of a fish-eater, but not knowing what he’d be eating in the days ahead made the unseasoned bit of overcooked meat taste better than the finest steak.
As everyone began gathering around the lanterns, Bradok took his waterskin and strode to the river to fill it. To his surprise, he found Rose there, painting on the side of Silas’s barrel-boat in large, red letters.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I just figured she needed a name. She deserves to be remembered,” Rose said, patting the side of the ship. She stoppered her vial of paint and rinsed the brush in the river.
Bradok watched her as she climbed up the bank to join the others. Whatever dangers they encountered, he thought, he wouldn’t have passed up the journey for the world.
“I’ve never been this bored in all my born days,” Much grumbled three days later.
The seer compass had pointed them toward a fissure at the edge of the river, but for three straight days there had been no need to consult it further. The passage ran more or less straight and level with no forks or side passages or caverns along the way-just the same rough-walled passage. They’d kept up their march, by Much’s watch, ten hours out of every day. Bradok guessed they must have covered forty or fifty miles, but the unending hallway of rock made it seem like they were winding in circles.
The only bright spots were the frequent streams and pools that appeared along the way. They would issue out of cracks in the walls or the ceiling and run across their path, vanishing into similar fissures a few feet from where they appeared. The water tasted terrible; it was full of dissolved minerals and metals that left a sour taste in their mouths hours after drinking. Still, while their food supply diminished steadily, they had no trouble refilling their waterskins.
But they had finally run out of solid food, and the next day would be the first without. The adults exchanged worried glances as the children complained about their empty bellies. Bradok consulted the compass every few hours, but it offered no fresh hope.
On the second day without food, the adults began to grumble and the little children wept intermittently. Kellik and Bradok took turns carrying the exhausted Hemmish until their arms ached. Still, no one thought they should stop. Everyone, even the children, knew that food must lie ahead and that to stop meant death.
On the third day, the cavern lay silent except for the shuffle of weary boots on stone and the sounds of ragged breathing. No one spoke much, preferring to save their energy for the task at hand. The children could barely walk, keeping their progress slow. Some of the adults carried the younger ones, and Rose had her arm around the pregnant Lyra, helping to steady her faltering steps. When, gasping in pain, she finally collapsed, everyone sank to the floor of the fissure with a collective groan.
“Lyra can’t go any further,” Rose said after a moment.
