“Yes,” Efreet said, though Pie doubted he did. The prospect of a visitation from these thundering things held no horror for him, only exhilaration. “So tell me what you want, mystif,” Tasko said as he started back down the hill. “You didn’t climb all the way up here to watch the stars. Or maybe you did. Are you in love?”
Efreet tittered in the darkness behind them.
“If I were I wouldn’t talk about it,” Pie replied.
“So what, then?”
“I came here with a friend, from . . . some considerable distance, and our vehicle’s nearly defunct. We need to trade it in for animals.”
“Where are you heading?”
“Up into the mountains.”
“Are you prepared for that journey?”
“No, But it has to be taken.”
“The faster you’re out of the valley the safer we’ll be, I think. Strangers attract strangers.”
“Will you help us?”
“Here’s my offer, mystif,” Tasko said. “If you leave Beatrix now, I’ll see they give you supplies and two doeki. But you must be quick.”
“I understand.”
“If you go now, maybe the machines will pass us by.”
Without anyone to lead him, Gentle had soon lost his way on the dark hill. But rather than turning around and heading back to await Pie in Beatrix, he continued to climb, drawn by the promise of a view from the heights and a wind to clear his head. Both took his breath away: the wind with its chill, the panorama with its sweep. Ahead, range upon range receded into mist and distance, the farthest heights so vast he doubted the Fifth Dominion could boast their equal. Behind him, just visible between the softer silhouettes of the foothills, were the forests which they’d driven through.
Once again, he wished he had a map of the territory, so that he could begin to grasp the scale of the journey they were undertaking. He tried to lay the landscape out on a page in his mind, like a sketch for a painting, with this vista of mountains, hills, and plain as the subject. But the fact of the scene before him overwhelmed his attempt to make symbols of it; to reduce it and set it down. He let the problem go and turned his eyes back towards the Jokalaylau. Before his gaze reached its destination, it came to rest on the hill slopes directly across from him. He was suddenly aware of the valley’s symmetry, hills rising to the same height, left and right. He studied the slopes opposite. It was a nonsensical quest, seeking a sign of life at such a distance, but the more he squinted at the hill’s face the more certain he became that it was a dark mirror, and that somebody as yet unseen was studying the shadows in which he stood, looking for some sign of him as he in his turn searched for them. The notion intrigued him at first, but then it began to make him afraid. The chill in his skin worked its way into his innards. He began to shiver inside, afraid to move for fear that this other, whoever or whatever it was, would see him and, in the seeing, bring calamity. He remained motionless for a long time, the wind coming in frigid gusts and bringing with it sounds he hadn’t heard until now: the rumble of machinery; the complaint of unfed animals; sobbing. The sounds and the seeker on the mirror hill belonged together, he knew. This other had not come alone. It had engines and beasts. It brought tears.
As the cold reached his marrow, he heard Pie ‘oh’ pah calling his name, way down the hill. He prayed the wind wouldn’t veer and carry the call, and thus his whereabouts, in the direction of the watcher. Pie continued to call for him, the voice getting nearer as the mystif climbed through the darkness. He endured five terrible minutes of this, his system racked by contrary desires: part of him desperately wanting Pie here with him, embracing him, telling him that the fear upon him was ridiculous; the other part in terror that Pie would find him and thus reveal his whereabouts to the creature on the other hill.