Kerrick let the breath out slowly, then followed after them.
Their path took them over the top of the hill and down the other side. There was a gorge here and Kerrick realized that it had been made by the river they had been following, which looped out through the hills and back again. They followed a clearly marked path now down towards the river, until they were walking along its bank.
With each turn the rock walls rose higher, the river beside them rushed faster. They walked along a narrow bank of rock and sand that would surely be covered by the high waters of spring. Parts of the rock wall had broken loose here and the water splashed and broke into spray over giant boulders in the stream. They had to climb up an ever larger slide of tumbled stone that must have filled the deep ravine for the river now roared over and among the rocks, foaming high against the vertical rock face on the other side. The climb was getting more difficult. Kerrick looked up—and stopped suddenly.
Dark-haired, spear-armed hunters were looking down at him from above. He called out to the hunters climbing ahead of him and pointed. They looked up and understood, shouting orders that sent the others back out of sight. Kerrick went on then to the top and stood, panting, looking back the way they had come.
The mounded boulders fell away from him to the dark waters of the river, far below. High cliffs rose from the river on both sides. This natural barrier could be easily defended by the armed hunters who had drawn aside to let him pass. It was a perfect defensive position—but what was it guarding? Curiosity now replaced fear as he clambered down the inner face of the barrier and hurried after the others.
As they walked the landscape changed. The rock walls receded and sandy mounds appeared beside the river, dotted here and there with vegetation and stunted trees. After a short distance the land became flatter and greener, with low shrubs stretched out in even rows. Kerrick wondered at this regularity until they passed a group of men digging at one of the rows.
He marveled then at two things: the rows had been planted that way on purpose. And there were hunters working among the plants, doing woman’s work. It was most unusual. But the Yilanè had planted fields around their city; there was no reason that Tanu could not do the same, that men should labor in them as well as women. His eyes followed the green rows to the rock wall of the valley beyond, up to the dark openings in the stone.
They passed a group of women next, all of them wrapped in the soft white substance, pointing at him and chattering in high-pitched voices. Kerrick knew that he should be feeling fear here in this valley, among these dark strangers, but he did not. If they had wanted to kill him they would certainly have done it long before this. He might still be in danger, but his curiosity was overwhelming any fears he still had. There was smoke from fires ahead, children running, the cliffs were closer—and he stopped with sudden realization.
“A city!” he said aloud. “A Tanu city, not a Yilanè one.”
The hunters he had been following stopped and waited while he looked about him. Notched beams of wood, they must have been entire treetrunks, reached up the cliffside to the openings above. The beams could be climbed for he saw faces peering down at him. There was a rush and bustle here, also like a Yilanè city, with many activities he could not understand. Then he noticed that the hunter he had first met was waving him forward, towards a long, dark opening in the base of the cliff. Kerrick followed him inside and looked up at the rock wall that slanted back above. He blinked at it in the gloom, barely able to make out details after leaving the bright sunlight outside. The hunter was pointing at the rockface above.
“Waliskis,” he said, the same word he had used when he pointed at the water vessel.