“All these days,” he whispered to Lyra later, “trapped with that Tsla, and him mumbling and chanting to himself all the time. It was enough to drive a sane person crazy. Did you find a way to pass this Topapasirut?”
“No, we did not.” To her surprise Homat looked downcast. “I thought you’d be pleased. That means we have to go back Downriver now, back to the warm lands of the Skatandah. Don’t you miss them?”
“Very much so, but I have joined myself to your purposes and therefore am disappointed for you.”
“That’s a very nice thing to say, Homat.” She hadn’t expected such depth of feeling from the Mai. Nor was it a ruse. He was genuinely distressed that their journey had come to an end.
She looked past him, frowned. Etienne was deep in discussion with Tyl and looking more animated than he had in many days. She strolled over to join them.
“What’s all the excitement about?”
“You tell her,” Etienne suggested to Tyl, his features alive with enthusiasm.
“On the eastern flank of Aracunga Mountain,” Tyl explained, “lies the Tsla trading town of Jakaie. I have not visited it myself but it is known to Turput. It is said that beyond Jakaie and the mass of the mountain, the Barshajagad once more becomes a navigable river. If thee could but convey thy craft to that place, thee might safely resume thy journey—if the story is accurate.”
“An impossible if.”
“Maybe not,” Etienne murmured. He was tense with possibilities. “Maybe we could portage around.”
For a long moment she just stared at him. Then she let her gaze trace the lower section of the steep trail that wound its torturous course up the side canyon.
“Sure we could. We’ll just hoist the boat onto our shoulders and haul it five thousand meters straight up. Lost your mind?”
Her skepticism didn’t even slow him down. “No, I’ve just found it. Look, the hydrofoil’s made of ultralight material. The hull’s a carbon filament honeycomb. And we can surmount the rough spots on the repellers.”
“With what power?” she argued. “We’d burn out the cells.”
“We would not. You’re not listening. We’d only use the repellers to get over real steep places. The rest of the time we’d rely on muscle power. Porters, Lyra! Mount the boat on some kind of platform and pull it up and over.”
She did some quick figuring. “I admit the hydrofoil’s light, but it’s a relative lightness. You’d still need a thousand Mai or Tsla to drag it up a thousand meters.”
He looked back at Tyl. “Tell her.”
“There is a draft animal,” the Tsla explained, “that the Mai use all along the river. It is called a vroqupii. The Mai use them in teams to pull trading boats Upriver against the current. They are strong.” He eyed Homat. “Well, Mai?”
The guide looked thoughtful. “We passed many trading villages below this place. Each should be home to a few vroqupii. The animals used hereabouts must be unusually powerful because the current is so fast.”
“Do you think we could find enough to do it?” Etienne asked.
“I do not know.” Homat gazed at the intimidating trail.
Lyra’s dreams of returning to tranquil Turput were slipping away. “Assuming we could find enough animals to do the job, could we hire enough? Would their owners consent to such an undertaking?”
“If they were promised enough money, certainly,” Homat replied, looking at her as if she’d just disputed a fundamental law of nature.
“What would we pay them with?”
“Our trade goods,” Etienne said. “We have some left.”
“If we use up our remaining supplies we won’t have anything to give any natives we meet beyond this point.”
“If we don’t get beyond this point the question becomes moot.” She had no comeback for that. Etienne turned to Homat. “Would these vroqupii be able to climb as high as Jakaie?” He translated the relevant measurements into Mai terms.
Homat looked uneasy. “We go that much higher than the home of these Tsla who accompany us?” Etienne nodded. “I am not sure. But these Upriver tribes are. proud. They might see such a proposal as a challenge.”
“They wouldn’t freeze. It’s not that high,” Etienne said.
Tyl agreed. “Many Mai hunters hike beyond Turput in search of prey, and their blood continues to flow.”
“How many vroqupii might we need?” Homat wondered. An intense discussion of weight versus capabilities ensued, before the Mai felt comfortable in announcing a figure.
“Thirty at least. Forty would be better, fifty best, and sixty delightful, but I do not think we can find that many willing to try, not even for a share of off-world treasure.”
“We must try,” Etienne told him.
“Then I will do my best to convince the Brul, as they who handle the vroqupii are called.” His bald skull glistened in the reflected cloud-glare of afternoon and he smiled ingenuously. “That is my job, is it not?”
Etienne nodded once. “Let’s get started. Lyra, are you sure you’re willing to go along with this?”
She shrugged. “If you’re determined I couldn’t stop you anyway, Etienne. I think it’s a mistake to sacrifice the rest of our trade goods on a scheme that has a good chance of failing, but I can’t argue that it’s your last chance to go on. Our last chance,” she added with a faint smile.
“I promise,” he told her, “if it looks like we’re not going to make it, we’ll turn back and return to Turput. I know that’s what you want.”
She almost said, “I want what you want, Etienne,” but did not. Their relationship was based on more powerful bonds than artificial acquiescence. They did not give in to each other; they agreed on things. She agreed now and having agreed, considered how best to help.
“Tyl, do you think it can be done with thirty vroqupii?”
“I have watched them pull heavily laden ships Upriver,” the Tsla replied thoughtfully. “They are very strong. But it will require more than mere strength to achieve this thing. It will take cooperation among the Mai who are involved. The vroqupii can, I think, pull thy spirit boat up to Jakaie, but not if the Brul fall to quarreling among themselves.”
