Tyl was staring curiously at the porter. “I cannot allow myself to go, nor would thy companions, but if thy conscience is clear and committed.”

“What is conscience?” Yulour asked innocently.

Tyl sighed. “No matter.” He turned to Etienne. “He may accompany thee as he wishes. I cannot stop him, though I would if it were in my power. All beings have free will. Remember this, though: thee will bear a heavy responsibility if he dies. It will be on thy conscience.”

“I’ll remember that.” Etienne faced his one volunteer. He’d had little personal contact with Yulour, indeed, with any of the porters, preferring to give them their instructions through Tyl.

“Thank you, Yulour. I accept your offer of help. It would be better understood among my own people.”

The porter shook his head sadly. “I do not understand, Learned One.”

Etienne clapped the Tsla on one muscular shoulder. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re willing to help.”

“I like Teacher Lyra,” Yulour said with simple sincerity. “I want to help her.”

“If we can, we will, Yulour.”

They hurried back to the hydrofoil, ignoring the crowd of curious Tsla which had gathered around it. Homat was waiting to greet them.

Etienne caught his breath as a blast of superhot air rushed out of the main cabin. Inside the temperature reached for the hundred-degree line, forty degrees warmer than the air outside. Homat’s reaction was exactly the opposite of Etienne’s. As cold air poured inside he retreated to the pile of blankets he’d assembled on the floor of the cockpit, curled up beneath them, and peered out apologetically as Etienne strode in after him.

“Please do not be angry with me, de-Etienne,” he pleaded. “Only I was left behind, and I remember how to work the device that makes the air inside the spirit boat hot or cold. I could not resist. It’s the first time in many times I have been truly delightful warm.”

Etienne had to smile. “Relax, Homat, it’s all right. I’m not mad at you.” The smile quickly vanished. “De-Lyra has been taken by the Na, by the ice demons.”

Homat began to moan and Etienne hastened to cut him off. “Yulour and I are going after her.”

Homat’s nearly bald head emerged from the smothering blankets. “After the demons?”

“After the Na, yes.”

“You will not come back.”

“I really appreciate all the support I’m getting,” he mumbled absently as he started rummaging through a storage locker in search of needed supplies. “I never thought I’d see the day when Mai and Tsla were in perfect agreement on anything.”

“After the demons,” Homat whispered. “I—I would come with you if I could.”

Etienne threw him a surprised look. “That’s delightful of you, Homat, but you know how much use you’d be. The temperature atop the Guntali’s probably somewhere just above the freezing mark. I don’t think you could handle that for very long. No Mai could. The climate here in Jakaie’s at the upper limit of your tolerance.”

“I wish it were not so, de-Etienne. It is wondrous that you can move so freely between the comfortable weather of the Skatandah and the roof of the world.”

“Our special clothing helps to make that possible, Homat.” He held up a thermal coat just excavated from storage. “I’m more concerned about the atmospheric pressure above the six-thousand-meter line. The air will be thicker than at a corresponding altitude on my home world, but thinner than I’d like. We have some methods of compensating for that, too.”

Into the large backpack went a half dozen supplementary breathers. Each consisted of a facepiece designed to fit comfortably over mouth and nose and flexible metal tubes that fit over the ears and behind the head to hold the contraption in place. The tubes contained pure O₂ under pressure and would serve equally well under water. For high altitude use they’d last much longer, since their full flow wouldn’t be required.

Two ascents from the bottom of the Barshajagad had prepared him for the coming climb, All that he feared was the possibility of having to do some running at high altitude. He wondered how Lyra was handling the thin air and low temperatures. She was wearing long clothing when the Na had attacked, but that wouldn’t suffice if the nighttime temperature dropped below freezing. It might be that all that stood between her and freezing to death at night was the warm presence of her fellow captives.

“Yulour, will you be warm enough?” he asked his sole companion when all was ready. The porter wore several layers of toga and two capes, in addition to a cloak pulled tight over his head.

“I will be fine, Teacher. Please not to worry about me. It upsets me when I see anyone worrying about me.”

Tyl and Ruu-an waited at the main gate to see them off. With typical Tsla matter-of-factness, masons and carpenters were already hard at work repairing the broken barrier. Ruu-an presented one stocky villager who would guide them to the base of the incline the Na usually employed for their travels.

“Do they ever leave a rear guard behind, or anything like that?” Etienne asked the First Scholar.

Ruu-an made a negative movement with his trunk. “They have nothing to fear from us since we never pursue them.”

That sense of invulnerability should be my greatest ally, Etienne mused. Once safely back in their own territory atop the Guntali the Na would relax. Counterattack would be the last thing they’d expect. The shock should be considerable. But he didn’t delude himself into thinking that they’d run off in panic. The Na weren’t the type to run.

No, he’d have to rely on surprise. Even with two fully charged pistols he doubted he could hold off an entire tribe of the giants for more than a couple of minutes.

“We’re wasting time.” He led their local guide toward the wall beckoning to the east, moving as rapidly as practicable. Yulour fell in step behind, the big pack bobbing easily on his broad shoulders.

Tyl and Ruu-an watched them go.

“What a strange folk,” the First Scholar declared. “I listen in amazement to the accomplishments you tell me they have achieved, and then something like this is done, something which a child of but a few years can see is useless.”

“They are full of contradictions.” Tyl’s gaze was still on Etienne’s retreating back. “One moment they are very wise and the next, foolish as little Mai. I think their souls must be in perpetual confusion.”

“Thee believe they have souls, then?”

“I am convinced of it, though other teachers of Turput argue otherwise.”

“It may be that their minds are variable, that they are adults one moment and cubs the next. Very strange folk. I am glad I was able to meet and talk with one of them before they died.”

“Yes, I will miss them. The female came to me day after day and asked endless questions, which allowed me to make a close study of her and her ways. Now that they have left us we will have only that to remember.”

He turned and helped the elderly Ruu-an as they started back toward town, continuing the discussion as they walked.

There were plenty of switchbacks which over the years the Na had developed into a recognizable pathway, so the climb was not as difficult as Etienne first feared. He still had to stop at regular intervals to catch his breath. Common sense insisted on calling regular halts while his nerves tried to force him to greater haste. The supplementary breathers wouldn’t last forever and he tried to ration the flow of the one clamped over his face.

Despite the frequent pauses they reached the plateau sooner than he’d dared to hope. Gaps in the thick clouds afforded only an occasional glimpse of Jakaie and its valley sitting far below and behind them. Above the rest of the real world brooded the mountain called Aracunga. A thick cloud of ice crystals trailed southward from its crest, looking like smoke flowing from a volcano. In the distance rose a white ghost, the impossible bulk of the sky-scraping Prompaj Massif.

A few trees stood ready to greet their arrival, thin wispy branches applauding their achievement at the behest of a steady wind. Nearby, green-brown bushes clung to the ground. Etienne bent to examine the nuts they produced, found them hard to extract from the poor soil. They hugged the earth with hooks of wood.

In the light dusting of snow they saw tracks of animals that walked on broad but delicate feet, with long strides. Etienne visualized something tall and thin running fast. As they left the rim they encountered larger spoor, indication that a large predator had recently passed.

Whenever their course was in doubt Yulour would drop his head toward the ground and employ his oversized proboscis to sniff out the scent of the Na.

“Not far,” he told Etienne by the end of the day.

“No reason for them to cover ground.” Etienne squinted into the growing darkness, an occasional snowflake tickling his skin. “Probably they’ve picked a comfortable spot to relax and reminisce about their attack on Jakaie. If they have that much sense, that is. We should come up on them soon, then?”

“Yes, soon.” Yulour straightened. “Then what we do?”

“I’m not sure. Depends on how they set their camp.”

They saw the glow from the earth before Yulour caught the scent of the tribe. The fire itself wasn’t visible because it lay in a depression. Heeding Etienne’s request for silence, Yulour followed the Teacher as they crept up the side of the low ridge and found themselves looking down into a small crater in the rocks. It was deep and offered excellent protection against the wind. On the far side, stone overhung part of the depression, and the alcove was packed with sleepy, sated Na. Only a few of the primitives were moving, mostly to tend to the roaring fire. The odor from the burning chips was strong.