Part 13 (2/2)

'Don't give me any lip, girl,' he warned her.

'I'm just saying it might be anything. A subtler kind of intelligence test, or maybe the signs are changed regularly - I'm from out of town so I don't know. But the Doctor might be able to work it out. Shall we go back for him?'

Gribbs guessed a path and headed back, hopefully, towards the landing ground. All of the signs they came across were blank.

Did they show anything only when they needed to? she wondered. Had they ever shown anything at all? Then came the sound of soft, measured footsteps from along the curve of the path ahead. Immediately Gribbs pulled her a little way into the undergrowth by the side of the path, clearly nervous about where he put his feet, but evidently intent on smuggling her into his s.h.i.+p secretly. 'Don't say a word, or else!' he hissed in her ear.

Two robed Gelsandorans rounded the corner, proceeding on their own mysterious business.

Then Peri realised they'd both forgotten about Dynes's ubiquitous camera drone, which was patiently hovering over the path, pointing its lenses at them. The natives had to realise they were there, but what would they do? She tensed herself.

To her utter amazement and dismay the two natives paused by the drone, looked directly at them, nodded politely and continued on their way.

'Well how's about that?' Gribbs muttered, as they disappeared from sight. They returned to the path. As he led her on with a distinctly more relaxed swing to his stride, Peri's spirits sank.

What was she to make of the Gelsandorans behaviour? In their own way they were as bad as Dynes. Or was she the one out of step? Was this an alien thing or the way it was in the future?

Didn't anybody, apart from the Doctor, really care here? With an effort, she tried to reason it out from their point of view and saw her mistake.

The Gelsandorans ran the whole treasure-trail process essentially for their own self-interest. They had apparently been quite willing to let them die out on the plain yesterday, as they would have if the Doctor hadn't been smart enough to find a refuge. Apart from the single restriction on the use of guns against each other, they must treat everything that happened while on the quest simply as another challenge for their subjects to overcome without their interference. Was that really what she was now: an experimental subject in the Gelsandorans researches? Were they prying into her mind at this instant? she wondered with a shudder. Were they dispa.s.sionately recording her reactions? Whatever was the case, she certainly couldn't rely on their help or sympathy.

She was very definitely on her own.

They had run parallel to the grey shadow in the mist for twenty minutes without finding any break. Now the nose of the inflatable sc.r.a.ped softly against the shelf of rock at its base. The Marquis scrambled ash.o.r.e and held the line while the others disembarked, hauling ash.o.r.e their packs. Arnella, still pale and s.h.i.+vering in her damp clothes, stepped on to solid ground with a sigh of relief. Falstaff alighted with a heave and a peculiar, quick, dainty step. Brockwell, the last one off, released the valve and with a hiss of air the craft deflated. He pulled the limp form from the water, shook it dry, then began to fold it. In a minute it was small enough to slip hack into his pack.

The rocky shelf ranged between three and five metres wide. At its back the mist rolled against a sheer wall that turned the swirling vapour to a leaden grey. To their left they could hear the continuous rush and splatter of a waterfall discharging into the lake.

Thorrin checked his compa.s.s again and nodded. 'From our observations this formation seems continuous, therefore it must be the base of the cliffs we saw this morning. Clearly we must now ascend.'

'But how are we going to manage it?' Myra asked. 'That rock looks pretty smooth. Unless you've got a set of flight packs hidden away somewhere.'

'Just so,' Falstaff said. 'Old Jack is even less a fly than he is a mountain goat.'

'We have some compact climbing gear and lines, and I have done some rough rock work in the past,' Thorrin said impatiently, 'but I hope it will not come to that. There are still a few hours of daylight left and we must make use of them to examine the barrier more closely. If necessary we can camp here and continue in the morning.'

They made their way along the ledge, Arnella almost brus.h.i.+ng the rock wall in an effort to keep as far away from the water as possible. The rock remained to all appearances sheer and virtually unclimbable, until Brockwell said, 'Hey, look at that.'

A section of the rock wall had been planed perfectly smooth.

Projecting from it was an ascending series of horizontal flat stone slabs, each about a metre and a half long, forming a continuous stairway. Thorrin tested the bottom step. 'It seems sound enough. We should be able to reach the top well before the light goes. Come on.' He started up.

Soon they were climbing through the mist. There was no sign of the ground or sky, which perhaps made the climb more tolerable, since it was easy to believe it was comfortingly just out of sight below them, and not hundreds of metres. Falstaff protested every so often, and convinced Thorrin that they should take five minutes' break after fifteen minutes of climbing. They all sat on the steps and ma.s.saged their aching calves gratefully. However, it was evident that Thorrin and the Marquis begrudged every second they were not advancing towards their goal, and once again Thorrin started them upward precisely on time.

They climbed on and on. After another fifteen minutes they took a second break. There was no lightening of the mist to show they were nearing the top. Myra could see Thorrin and the Marquis, who were leading, trying to step faster. She looked at her watch, made a swift mental calculation, then called out, 'Hold it. Stop. There's something wrong.' They halted, strung out on the steps above and below her, and turned puzzled faces in her direction.

'What's the matter, Inspector?'Thorrin said briskly.

'You know what's the matter. We should have reached the top by now.'

'We shall any minute, as long as you do not delay us any further.'

'But we should've reached the top at least ten minutes ago.'

'Nonsense. It's just a little further.'

'Excuse me, Professor,' said Brockwell hesitantly, 'but I think the inspector's right. I was beginning to wonder myself.'

'You're just letting the conditions confuse you,' the Marquis interjected. 'It's this mist that's doing it.'

'No, Uncle,' said Arnella unhappily, 'it's more than that.'

The Marquis glowered at her as though disappointed. Thorrin said impatiently, 'We cannot be sure how long the ascent will take because we do not know for certain how high this cliff is.'

'But we can make a good estimate,' Myra insisted. 'When we looked across the valley from the other side the top seemed about level with us, right?'

'Agreed,' Thorrin said curtly.

'The terraces couldn't have been more than a hundred and fifty metres deep in all. From there the land sloped gently all the way down to the lake, so over that distance say it added another three hundred metres at the most. Even adding on another fifty for error, this cliff can't be more than five hundred high.'

'So. We have simply to go a little further.'

'I noted when we started up. Excluding the breaks, we've been climbing for almost forty-five minutes. I reckon there are about four steps to the vertical metre. At an average pace of one step per second, which is what we've been doing, we should have already climbed six hundred and seventy-five metres. So where's the top?'

Her calculations were unarguable, she knew, but logic and reason were not the only factors at work here. Thorrin and the Marquis simply didn't want to accept that there might be another obstacle in their way.

'We'll go on for another five minutes,' Thorrin said.

They climbed on. The mist grew no thinner, nor was there any sign of the interminable stairway ending. When the time was up, Thorrin stood with fists clenched, staring up at the ever-receding mist, the rock wall, and the stairs.

'This is intolerable,' exclaimed the Marquis, his frustration boiling over. 'What's happening,Thorrin?'

'Some trick of the natives, I imagine,' Thorrin said, evidently fighting to keep his voice level, then added an admission that must have cost him considerable self-esteem: 'I simply don't know.'

'It's like being in a dream, where you run and run but don't get anywhere. It's... a little frightening, 'Arnella admitted with unexpected candour.

'I've had those sorts of dreams to,' Brockwell said quietly.

'Well I have a dream about wine and brace of capon, a warm fire to chase the ague from the bones, and a feather mattress,'

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