Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 69 of 150

Ben stayed low against the lip of the shaft. The woman on the scree didn't climb. She waited, hands loose at her sides, like the slope was hers. Eileen's knife came up along her thigh, hidden by her leg. The crate sat between them, warm still from the garrison, the sap on the lid soft as honey. Ben pressed his palm to the wood. Under his hand, the hum ticked up half a note. The cold north wind wasn't enough. The sap was going. "How long on the seal?" Eileen breathed. "Minutes. The shaft air's damp. It's eating the sap." "Then we don't have this conversation." The woman below took one step up the scree. "I'm not the one you should worry about," she called. "There are six coming up the north track. I came ahead." Ben didn't answer. He worked the lid with his thumb. The bead of sap smeared and pulled a thread. Underneath, a hairline gap breathed. The hum leaked into the open air, thin, climbing. On a still day it would carry through the rock for a mile. Eileen heard it too. "Ben." He needed a fresh dampener and had none. No felt. No wax. No sap. He looked at the ground. Pine tar on the boughs above. Too slow to render. He looked at Eileen's coat. Wool, not enough. He looked at the crate itself. The hinge on the false panel caught his eye. The escape hatch built into the lid — a small square door meant to dump contents fast. It had its own seal, a strip of oiled leather pressed under the frame. Ben pried the panel with his knife. The leather came away in one long strip, dark with old grease. He pressed it flat over the failing seam on the main lid and thumbed it into the soft sap. The leather sank. The sap took it. The hum dropped to nothing in three breaths. Eileen watched him work without breathing. When it went quiet, she let the air out. Below, the woman tilted her head. She had heard the hum start and stop. She smiled, small. "Clever." Ben slid the crate behind the rock lip. He turned to Eileen. "Six on the north track." "Then we go south off the face." "The crate goes with us. Silent now." A shape moved on the scree behind the woman. Low, fast, blue-striped along the flank, built long for running. It came up beside her and stopped at her knee, ears forward, eyes on Ben. Not a hunting animal. A courier. Made for one burst and gone. The woman set her hand on its shoulder. "You'll want to hear what I know before they get here. My name won't mean anything to you. The one who sent me will." Ben looked at Eileen. Eileen looked at the creature. The seal held. The hum was dead. But the road down had just narrowed to one.