into his lap and looked up at her. “If my decisions do not satisfy you, you are free to go. You are always free to go.”
He heard her quick intake of breath and looked up to see her face paling, her eyes losing their fire and melting back to soft, wounded brown. He almost rose then, to enfold her in his arms and take back the cold, contemptuous words.
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
After a long, chilly silence, she bowed her head and stalked into the darkened bedroom.
Rozokov sat still and stared at the empty chair she had left behind. She would not go, he could tell that much of the future. He could also tell that, sooner or later, she would notice that he had not answered her questions.
Chapter 7
It was going to be fine.
Ardeth looked up the face of the cliff and smiled. The moon, bright as a searchlight, rested over the mountains at her back, illuminating the cracks and crevices above her. Glancing from the rock to the paper in her hands, Mark’s map made sense for the first time. Six distinct stretches of climb, snaking up the broad east face of Tunnel Mountain. The small, rounded mountain, a diminutive echo of the great peaks around it, formed the eastern border of the town and, once on top, it would be an easy hike down to the apartment.
No problem, she told herself firmly.
She shed her jacket and stood in the cool autumn air in her black climbing pants and her talisman T-shirt. The hike to the cliff base had cleared her head, left her body feeling limber and powerful. The elk blood had been hot and rejuvenating, seeming to warm even her cold muscles. She’d have to make the climb without the safety of either a top rope from above or someone to belay her from below. In fact, she’d have to make the climb without even the minimal gear she owned—climbing alone with ropes was more technically difficult than climbing with hands and feet. But, to her surprise, she was not afraid. With a final long stretch, she bent to change her shoes.
Something moved in the pines behind her.
For one wild moment she thought it was Rozokov come to watch her after all, but then she realized that her mind would have heard him long ago and, no doubt, her ears not at all. She turned and saw the beam of a flashlight weave an erratic course towards her, heard the crackle of dying grasses under mortal feet.
Ardeth watched for a moment, more curious than uneasy. Who would be out wandering through the forest? A warden perhaps, who had somehow seen her and come to tell her not to climb? A lost tourist? Someone else who planned to climb Tunnel Mountain by moonlight?
Whoever it was, she wasn’t interested. She crouched to gather up her belongings, preparing to retreat back along the edge of the cliff. Then a branch cracked and she heard someone say, quite distinctly: “Shit!” She paused. There was something about the voice . . .
The light flickered across her face suddenly and she flinched back, hand coming up to shield her eyes. “Ardeth? Is that you?”
He emerged from the darkness of the pines onto the short, bouldered slope that led to the base of the climb. She stood up, tangled for a moment in relief, anger and a surge of wild, dangerous joy.
“Sorry if I startled you.” Mark apologized, turning off the helmet headlamp he had been using as a flashlight.
“What are you doing here?”
“I figured with the moon like that,” he spared a glance up at the silver circle above them, “you’d be out here. I flipped a coin over which climb to start with.”
“Why?”
“I told you it wasn’t safe to climb alone and I meant it.”
For a moment, she was too surprised to speak. In the silence, he removed his pack and bent to open it. “I’ll be fine,” she said at last, awkwardly.
“Of course you will be. Did you bring any gear with you?”
“Just my shoes.”
“No problem. I’ve got rope, a spare harness, a full rack of gear. You’ll be taking stuff out, not putting it in, anyway. I’ll give
He heard her quick intake of breath and looked up to see her face paling, her eyes losing their fire and melting back to soft, wounded brown. He almost rose then, to enfold her in his arms and take back the cold, contemptuous words.
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
After a long, chilly silence, she bowed her head and stalked into the darkened bedroom.
Rozokov sat still and stared at the empty chair she had left behind. She would not go, he could tell that much of the future. He could also tell that, sooner or later, she would notice that he had not answered her questions.
Chapter 7
It was going to be fine.
Ardeth looked up the face of the cliff and smiled. The moon, bright as a searchlight, rested over the mountains at her back, illuminating the cracks and crevices above her. Glancing from the rock to the paper in her hands, Mark’s map made sense for the first time. Six distinct stretches of climb, snaking up the broad east face of Tunnel Mountain. The small, rounded mountain, a diminutive echo of the great peaks around it, formed the eastern border of the town and, once on top, it would be an easy hike down to the apartment.
No problem, she told herself firmly.
She shed her jacket and stood in the cool autumn air in her black climbing pants and her talisman T-shirt. The hike to the cliff base had cleared her head, left her body feeling limber and powerful. The elk blood had been hot and rejuvenating, seeming to warm even her cold muscles. She’d have to make the climb without the safety of either a top rope from above or someone to belay her from below. In fact, she’d have to make the climb without even the minimal gear she owned—climbing alone with ropes was more technically difficult than climbing with hands and feet. But, to her surprise, she was not afraid. With a final long stretch, she bent to change her shoes.
Something moved in the pines behind her.
For one wild moment she thought it was Rozokov come to watch her after all, but then she realized that her mind would have heard him long ago and, no doubt, her ears not at all. She turned and saw the beam of a flashlight weave an erratic course towards her, heard the crackle of dying grasses under mortal feet.
Ardeth watched for a moment, more curious than uneasy. Who would be out wandering through the forest? A warden perhaps, who had somehow seen her and come to tell her not to climb? A lost tourist? Someone else who planned to climb Tunnel Mountain by moonlight?
Whoever it was, she wasn’t interested. She crouched to gather up her belongings, preparing to retreat back along the edge of the cliff. Then a branch cracked and she heard someone say, quite distinctly: “Shit!” She paused. There was something about the voice . . .
The light flickered across her face suddenly and she flinched back, hand coming up to shield her eyes. “Ardeth? Is that you?”
He emerged from the darkness of the pines onto the short, bouldered slope that led to the base of the climb. She stood up, tangled for a moment in relief, anger and a surge of wild, dangerous joy.
“Sorry if I startled you.” Mark apologized, turning off the helmet headlamp he had been using as a flashlight.
“What are you doing here?”
“I figured with the moon like that,” he spared a glance up at the silver circle above them, “you’d be out here. I flipped a coin over which climb to start with.”
“Why?”
“I told you it wasn’t safe to climb alone and I meant it.”
For a moment, she was too surprised to speak. In the silence, he removed his pack and bent to open it. “I’ll be fine,” she said at last, awkwardly.
“Of course you will be. Did you bring any gear with you?”
“Just my shoes.”
“No problem. I’ve got rope, a spare harness, a full rack of gear. You’ll be taking stuff out, not putting it in, anyway. I’ll give
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