of the deal, but it didn’t matter. He just wanted to get out before someone else came along. Hastily, he gathered an armload of goods and brought them to the counter. She was clearly disappointed when, after totaling the bill, she still owed him twenty dollars. Curtly, she counted the large, rumpled bank-notes into his hand. He loaded the canvas pack he had bought and headed for the door.
“That’s all the gold yer likely to see on that thar mountain,” she called after him.
He hesitated. “I’m not looking for gold,” he said, then stepped outside.
Now the sweat had dried on his head, and the wheezing of his lungs had subsided to a faint rattle. Travis turned and continued up the trail.
By the time he reached the abandoned cabin, the whole valley lay in the shadow of the mountain. Travis was the one who had spotted the cabin the previous afternoon. Weary after their battle with the demon in the Dome of the Etherion, and dazed at finding themselves on Earth, they had fled the people and noise of Castle City. They needed a place where they could think and get their bearings. Then Travis had looked up and had seen the small, boxy shape perched above them on the slopes of Castle Peak. The cabin had been abandoned, no doubt by a miner whose claim had yielded not silver, but worthless rock.
Travis opened the cabin’s sun-beaten plank door to find that the others had been busy while he was gone. Durge, in a bout of good Embarran industriousness, had chinked the walls with the mud from the tiny creek that trickled past the cabin, shutting out most of the drafts. Lirith had swept the hard-packed floor with a bundle of sticks and cleaned out the crude stone fireplace, laying a neat stack of wood inside. However, Sareth sat in a corner, his usually coppery face ashen.
“It’s good you’re back,” Durge said, not voicing the words Travis could see in the knight’s deep-set brown eyes.
We were
worried about you.
Travis eased the pack off his shoulder, which immediately began cramping. “How are you doing, Sareth?”
The Mournish man grinned. “I keep trying to tell Lirith my head has cracked open, but she refuses to believe me. By now she’s probably swept my brains out the door. And my breath seems to come but grudgingly.”
Durge nodded. “The air seems strangely thin here. Is it always so on this Earth of yours?”
“It’s the altitude,” Travis said. “We’re the better part of a league higher up than we were in Tarras. Everyone needs to drink lots of water.”
“But you told us earlier not to drink the water,” Durge said, glowering.
“That’s because we need to boil it first.” He started to say more, then stopped. He was too tired to explain about microscopic amoebas and how they could play havoc with your intestines. Right now Durge could simply think he was contradictory.
Lirith knelt beside the pack. “Did you get the...mashes you talked about, so we can make a fire?”
“Matches. Yes, and more.”
Travis knelt beside her, and they unloaded the contents of the pack. It looked like less than it had at the store. Even in 1883, thirty dollars didn’t seem to buy much. Of course, Travis knew prices had been outrageously inflated in the booming mining towns. A sack of flour could go for a hundred dollars. But with the nearing of the railroad, prices were probably on their way down.
Along with a tin kettle for boiling water and a single cup they could share, he had gotten some food—soda crackers, a small wheel of cheese, a lemon, and a few cans of sardines. The cans probably had lead in them, but that was the least of their worries at the moment.
There were also new clothes for each of them, garb that would hopefully keep others from thinking they were
bilks
, whatever those were. There was a pair of canvas jeans and a calico shirt for each of the men, and a brown poplin dress for Lirith. Their Eldish shoes would have to do, but Travis’s and Durge’s boots were plain enough to go
“That’s all the gold yer likely to see on that thar mountain,” she called after him.
He hesitated. “I’m not looking for gold,” he said, then stepped outside.
Now the sweat had dried on his head, and the wheezing of his lungs had subsided to a faint rattle. Travis turned and continued up the trail.
By the time he reached the abandoned cabin, the whole valley lay in the shadow of the mountain. Travis was the one who had spotted the cabin the previous afternoon. Weary after their battle with the demon in the Dome of the Etherion, and dazed at finding themselves on Earth, they had fled the people and noise of Castle City. They needed a place where they could think and get their bearings. Then Travis had looked up and had seen the small, boxy shape perched above them on the slopes of Castle Peak. The cabin had been abandoned, no doubt by a miner whose claim had yielded not silver, but worthless rock.
Travis opened the cabin’s sun-beaten plank door to find that the others had been busy while he was gone. Durge, in a bout of good Embarran industriousness, had chinked the walls with the mud from the tiny creek that trickled past the cabin, shutting out most of the drafts. Lirith had swept the hard-packed floor with a bundle of sticks and cleaned out the crude stone fireplace, laying a neat stack of wood inside. However, Sareth sat in a corner, his usually coppery face ashen.
“It’s good you’re back,” Durge said, not voicing the words Travis could see in the knight’s deep-set brown eyes.
We were
worried about you.
Travis eased the pack off his shoulder, which immediately began cramping. “How are you doing, Sareth?”
The Mournish man grinned. “I keep trying to tell Lirith my head has cracked open, but she refuses to believe me. By now she’s probably swept my brains out the door. And my breath seems to come but grudgingly.”
Durge nodded. “The air seems strangely thin here. Is it always so on this Earth of yours?”
“It’s the altitude,” Travis said. “We’re the better part of a league higher up than we were in Tarras. Everyone needs to drink lots of water.”
“But you told us earlier not to drink the water,” Durge said, glowering.
“That’s because we need to boil it first.” He started to say more, then stopped. He was too tired to explain about microscopic amoebas and how they could play havoc with your intestines. Right now Durge could simply think he was contradictory.
Lirith knelt beside the pack. “Did you get the...mashes you talked about, so we can make a fire?”
“Matches. Yes, and more.”
Travis knelt beside her, and they unloaded the contents of the pack. It looked like less than it had at the store. Even in 1883, thirty dollars didn’t seem to buy much. Of course, Travis knew prices had been outrageously inflated in the booming mining towns. A sack of flour could go for a hundred dollars. But with the nearing of the railroad, prices were probably on their way down.
Along with a tin kettle for boiling water and a single cup they could share, he had gotten some food—soda crackers, a small wheel of cheese, a lemon, and a few cans of sardines. The cans probably had lead in them, but that was the least of their worries at the moment.
There were also new clothes for each of them, garb that would hopefully keep others from thinking they were
bilks
, whatever those were. There was a pair of canvas jeans and a calico shirt for each of the men, and a brown poplin dress for Lirith. Their Eldish shoes would have to do, but Travis’s and Durge’s boots were plain enough to go
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