As he had calculated, there was no response. At this time of day, Sifans should be engaged elsewhere. He pulled Usilk in.
He had stood outside this door many times, but had never entered it. He was at a loss. He helped Usilk to sit, leaning with his back against a wall, and groped about for the lamp bracket.
After some blundering against furniture, he found it, and spun the chert wheel attached to the bracket. A spark flew, a tongue of light grew, and he lifted the lamp from its socket and looked about him. Here were all Father Sifans’ worldly goods, few in number. In one corner stood a small altar with a statue of Akha, greasy with handling. There was a place for ablutions. There was a shelf supporting one or two objects, including a musical instrument, and a mat on the floor. Nothing more. No table or chairs. Lost in shadow was an alcove which Yuli knew without looking would contain a cot where the old father slept.
He moved into action. With water from the basin, piped from the rock, he washed Usilk’s face and tried to revive him. The man drank a little water, puking as he did so. On the shelf in a tin was some doughy barley bread; Yuli fed some to Usilk and ate a chunk himself.
He shook Usilks shoulder gently. “You’ll have to forgive my temper. You provoked it. I’m only a savage at heart, not fit to be a priest. Now you see that I spoke truth—we are going to escape from here. With a rockfall in Twink, it should be easy to get away.”
Usilk merely moaned.
“What do you say? You’re not that bad. You’ll have to move for yourself.”
“You will never trick me, monk.” He looked at Yuli through slitted eyes.
Yuli squatted down beside him. The movement made Usilk flinch away. “Look, we have already committed ourselves. I have committed myself. Try and understand. I’m asking nothing from you, Usilk—I’m just going to help you get out of here. There must be some way to escape through the north gate dressed as monks. I know an old trapper woman called Lorel, not many days journeying north from here, who will allow us shelter while we grow used to the cold.”
“I’m not moving, man.”
Smiting his forehead, Yuli said, “You’ll have to move. We are hiding in a father’s room. We can’t stay here. He’s not a bad old boy, but he’d surely report us if he discovered us.”
“Not so, Brother Yuli. Your not-so-bad old boy is a grave of secrets.”
Jumping up, Yuli turned and stood face to face with Father Sifans, who had emerged quietly from the alcove. He put forward a papery hand in a protective gesture, fearing attack.
“Father …”
The gesture became one of reassurance as Father Sifans blinked at him in the wan light.
“I was resting. I was in Twink when the roof fell in—what a mess! Fortunately, I was not in great danger, but a piece of rock flew and hit my leg. I can advise you that there will be no escape through the north gate; the guard have closed it and declared a state of emergency, just in case the worthy citizens do something unwise.”
“You’re going to report us, Father?” From the olden days, the days of his adolescence, he had kept one possession, the bone knife which his mother had carved in her well days. His hand crept beneath his cassock and grasped the knife as he asked his question.
Sifans sniffed. “Like you, I shall do something unwise. I am going to advise you on the best route to take to leave our country. I am also going to advise you not to take this man with you. Leave him here, I’ll see to him. He’s close to death.”
“No, he’s tough, Father. He’ll recover quickly when the idea of freedom really sinks in. He’s been through much, haven’t you, Usilk?”
The prisoner stared up at them, across a blackened cheek which had already swollen enough to close one eye.
“Also, he is your enemy, Yuli, and will remain so. Beware of him. Leave him to me.”