Tarashana by Rachel Neumeier (best novels to read for students .TXT) 📗

with my fingertips and my feet, I found a rough place for my left foot, not really a ledge, but enough to push myself up. That was the worst moment in the climb. After that the rock was more broken and there were better places to set my feet.

The rope was lying at the top, abandoned, still tied to one of the pines that grow in high places in the borderlands, where the earth is too dry for other trees. The assassin had not taken time to cut the rope and take it with him. That had been a mistake. The bow was lying there too, likewise abandoned, and that was a much worse mistake. I threw the rope down. Then I looked for the assassin. I had taken too long to make that climb; he was not in sight. The land was not level here, but folded into many ridges and slopes. The narrow tops of the ridges were clean of everything but tough grasses and little plants; below, in the gullies, were pines and tangled brush. The assassin could not have had a horse waiting here for him; the land was too rough for horses. He could not be far.

The assassin might have run away, perhaps to a place he did have a horse tethered and waiting. Or else he might have slid down into one of these gullies, to a hiding place he had made earlier, where he would wait very quietly while people came to search and then gave up and went away. Or else he might have done something else, something I had not thought of.

Finally, I went to the ridge I thought seemed most likely and looked there. I went slowly at first, looking at how the grass lay, until I saw a place someone had set his foot and then another place like that. Once I was sure the assassin had run that way, I followed, running along the top of the ridge, watching less for where he had stepped on the sparse grasses and more for a place he might have gone down into a gully to either the right or the left. I did not really think he had turned aside to hide. I thought if he had planned to do such a thing, he would not have run along this ridge at all. But I might be wrong, so I looked for places he might have turned.

An Ugaro cannot run nearly as fast as a Lau, but we can run longer—in our own country. In the heat of the summer lands, we are at every kind of disadvantage. It was hot now. Though the winds from the north keep the borderlands from the full heat of the lands further south, this was the middle of the afternoon and well into summer. A Lau would not even notice the heat; to them the borderlands are cool even in summer, but I would be able to push myself hard for only a short time. It might be enough. I thought the assassin might not have run as fast and hard as he could. He might not have realized he should run fast. If I had not climbed up the cliff after him, he would have had a much longer start.

Then I saw him. Some way ahead, the ridge slanted sharply down into a gully and then a different ridge ran away, more east than south. That was where he was. I could tell from how he held his body and his arms that he was not running, only walking fast. That was why I had come up on him. Perhaps he was tired, or perhaps he had a horse somewhere close and did not feel he had to run. He had not looked back yet. If he did that now, he would see me. Then he would certainly run. I was breathing hard, and the fierce light of the Sun dazzled me when I tried to look too far ahead. My head was starting to pound in a way that I knew meant I was beginning to feel the heat too much. But I was too angry to stop.

If he ran, I would never be able to come up on him. At best I might be able to show the soldiers who followed us both the way he had gone. I thought that would not be enough. I thought if he saw me now and ran, he would probably get away. The thought made the heat seem like nothing.

I jumped down from the top of the ridge and scrambled into the brush below. The shrubs were coarse, with small leaves and many thorns. When I was in the summer lands, I seldom wished for a shirt with sleeves, far less for a light coat, but I would have liked either now. I pushed through the brush, not trying to be quiet. Leaves crunched under my weight, and twigs snapped. I thought the assassin was still too far ahead to hear any of those sounds, however loud they seemed to me. I hoped that the sides of the gulley would block the noise. Some small animal whipped away from my feet; I heard it go. There are many more serpents in the summer lands than in the winter country. Many of them are venomous. I had not thought of that until I heard that sound. I set the thought aside, shoved my way through the last of the thorns, paused for an instant to be sure of my directions, and then scrambled up the slope.

The shrubs here were shorter and less thorny, useful for hand- and footholds as I pulled myself up. I did see a serpent. He was slate blue, with a narrow head, harmless. That was just as well, as I saw him only after I had already grabbed a shrub directly beside him. The serpent slid away. I set my foot where