“There is no road to the eastern Wall,” said the voice of the starship. “Go around the mountains to the south. Then go east to the sea. If you pass through the Wall near the sea, you’ll enter Odinfold.”

“So presumably we’ll meet an expendable named Odin,” said Olivenko. “Is he a lying snake, too?”

“They all are,” said Rigg. “It’s how they were designed, these machines that talk.”

“Well then,” said Olivenko. “Let’s go look for food and then set out on our journey. The sooner we go, the sooner we find out just what trap this mechanical voice has in store for us.”

Neither Rigg nor the voice said anything to that.

“Can Loaf make a journey like that?” asked Umbo.

“I’m not leaving him behind,” said Rigg.

“I’d stay with him,” said Umbo.

“Let’s see what he decides to do,” said Rigg. “If he doesn’t follow us, then you stay with him.”

“But then we’d be trapped here,” said Umbo.

Rigg hesitated a moment, apparently making a decision. “Any two of you can go through the Wall, whether I’m there or not.”

“When did that happen?” asked Olivenko.

“I used the jewels and gave the command,” said Rigg.

“Any two of us,” said Umbo. “But not one of us alone.”

Param saw that Rigg was embarrassed, but then he stood straighter. “I didn’t want anyone going off alone. We’re safer together.”

“But if you want to go through alone?” asked Umbo.

Rigg sighed. “Then I can do it, yes.”

Umbo was clearly angry, and Param understood why. Rigg had made these rules, giving himself a degree of freedom the others did not have.

It was Olivenko who calmed them down. “The stones are his,” he said. “Not mine. And I’m not planning to go through any Walls by myself. Is anyone else? Then I’m not bothered by not having the power to do something I don’t want to do anyway. And I’m hungry.” He stood up.

Param stood up too. Only after she was standing did she realize that by doing so, she had lent her support to Olivenko’s decision.

And what was that decision? To look for food, yes. And to go along with Rigg and the rules he had set out.

What Param didn’t know was whether that made Rigg the leader of their expedition, or Olivenko.

CHAPTER 9

Responsibility

To Rigg, it was a relief to strike out over untracked country. For one thing, it was familiar—he and Father had done it so often before, and though he half expected to hear Father asking him questions, he also didn’t mind the silence as the others trudged along behind him.

It was also a relief to have no one seeking them, to have no particular hurry. There were dangers, of course—who knew which waters might contain facemasks? But it had not been hard to attach thin branches to tin cups, dip them in a stream, and then boil the water before replenishing their waterskins. It was time-consuming, but they had time. There were no predators large enough to pose a danger to them, for if there had been, Rigg would have seen their paths. As for danger from poisonous plants or insects, all they could do to protect themselves was look before they stepped or leaned or touched.

What was strange, though, was the lack of human paths. The farther they got from the city of Vadesh, the fewer the ten-thousand-year-old paths, and soon enough even those were gone. From then on there were no human paths, except now and then the trace of some ancient hunter from the days before the facemask people and the unadorned humans went to war and wiped each other out.

In all his life, Rigg had never seen a place so empty of a human past. He had heard other people say, “It felt as if we were the first people ever to walk there,” speaking of some wild patch of wood or meadow, but of course Rigg knew that there was hardly a place in Ramfold where no human had ever been, or which no human had seen.

Here, though, it was literally true: No human eyes had seen this view, no human feet had walked this hill, descended into this glen, found toeholds in this rock. Rigg couldn’t decide whether to be proud of bringing the first human paths into the land, or to regret spoiling its pristine clarity. For wherever they went, five bright and recent paths glowed behind them.

It was not all silence. Olivenko spoke from time to time, conversing with Param or Umbo, or asking Rigg a question. And Param, though she tried not to complain, had to speak up now and then to ask for a rest. She was truly unused to such traveling, hour after hour on their feet, moving forward, up and down, sometimes climbing with hands and feet.

The rests were not wasted. Rigg used the time to find water. He was learning that the native animals knew which water was infested with facemasks, and avoided it; where many animals had drunk over a long period of time, and recently, Rigg felt safe to take water without boiling it. He drank it himself first as a test. That was only right. And when they stopped longer, or for the evening, Rigg would find animal paths and set snares, so that by morning there would be meat. He would string the small animal carcasses over his back, letting them drain as they walked, then let Olivenko or Umbo cook them that night as he set snares for more. Rigg also found nuts, berries, edible roots—enough variety that the meat did not become tedious. Providing for five took more work than providing for himself and Father, but not much, and Rigg felt more than a little pride that no one went hungry while in his care.

Rigg felt bad for Param, who had obviously never climbed so much as a tree in her childhood; and he could see that her shoes would not last the journey. He would have to make her some moccasins, and he saved several pelts for that purpose. He also knew that Param did not like walking directly behind him—he supposed the sight and perhaps smell of the dead animals he wore across his shoulders bothered her. She had not seen the animals she ate being killed before, had not seen their carcasses still shaped like the living animal, but headless and skinless. If she didn’t like seeing them now, there was no reason to insist that she look. She would get used to the cycle of life soon enough.

What oppressed Rigg, what weighed on him with every step, was the silence from Loaf, and the way Umbo stayed near the man with the mask, holding his hand as if to guide him, as if he were blind. Loaf’s eyes were covered but they were not blind; he saw more unerringly than anyone, his hands finding every hold when they had to climb, ducking under every branch or pushing it out of the way. Without seeming alert, Loaf saw and heard everything. But he said nothing. Umbo mumbled things to him from time to time, but Rigg did not try to hear what passed between them. They had spent a long time together, apart from Rigg, and Rigg would not insert himself between them. How could he? It was Rigg who had allowed this terrible thing to happen to Loaf. Umbo did not accuse, but he didn’t have to. Rigg accused himself.

The high escarpment to their left bent to the east, and they turned with it, staying below it. It reminded Rigg of Upsheer Cliff, of course, since it had been caused by an identical starship crashing into the ground at the same angle and velocity eleven thousand years ago. Since Vadesh and the first colonists had built a tunnel and track from the city into the mountain, Rigg wondered now if there had been another tunnel and track leading out the other side. Why hadn’t he asked when he was there where the ship’s computer could answer him?

And were there tunnels in the other wallfolds, ways to get deep into the heart of the mountain without climbing the high cliffs? There was so much he wanted to know.

Most of all, though, he wondered what he could do to resist the humans from Earth when—or if—they came, and if they needed to be resisted at all. What if they came only as rescuers, and when they found that the people of the colonies on Garden had survived for longer than all of human history on Earth, they would marvel at the fact, and then peacefully negotiate with the people of each wallfold, and let the worlds become acquainted with each other. Why shouldn’t it be that way?