Bram Möller's Arc

Chapter 21 of 63

Bram sat across from the stranger and studied him. White fur matted at the shoulders. A red coat with brass buttons, cut for a body no tailor in the foothills had ever measured. Dark eyes, patient. The man dealt cards on the blanket as if the mountain above them was not sliding into itself. Parisa's compass still pointed at him. She held it flat on her knee. She did not speak. "Whist," Wendell said. "Three-hand. You'll learn quick." "We're not here to play," Bram said. "You're here until the shelf settles. That's an hour, maybe two." Wendell tapped the third hand. "Sit closer. I don't shout." Bram did not move. He needed to know who this man was before he followed him one step further into the rock. The compass had been hunting a lost pilot. It had stopped on Wendell. That meant Wendell was the pilot, or the compass was broken, or something else was true that Bram could not see. He reached into his jacket and set the mechanical owl on the stone. Its brass eyes caught the lantern. He wound the small key at its neck twice. "What are you doing," Wendell said. Not a question. "Testing something." Bram lifted the dented brass pocket compass from Parisa's knee. He held it near the owl's chest plate. The owl carried a trace of the missing pilot's coat oil on its claws from the rescue days ago. If Wendell was the partner who fell, the owl would settle near him. If he was not, it would not. The owl stepped off Bram's palm. It walked three paces across the blanket. It stopped at Wendell's knee. It folded its wings and sat. Parisa drew a slow breath. Wendell looked down at the owl. He did not touch it. "That's a clever bird." "You flew the pass," Bram said. "Four days ago. Your partner went over the cliff. We pulled him off the slope alive. He's with a doctor at the waystation." Wendell's hand stopped over the cards. For a long moment the only sound was water on stone. "Alive," he said. "Alive." Wendell set the deck down. He pulled the red coat straight at the shoulders. "Then we're not staying here." "The shelf—" "Will drop. I know a cut that comes out above the tree line. Two hours if we move now. I wasn't going alone because I couldn't carry him. I can carry myself." He looked at Parisa. "Who sent you." "His wife," Parisa said. "She paid for both of you." Wendell nodded once. He stood. The chamber felt smaller with him upright. Bram picked up the owl. He tucked the compass into Parisa's hand and closed her fingers over it. The needle no longer mattered. He had his answer. Wendell was the second pilot. The route out was Wendell's to lead. "Show us," Bram said. Wendell lifted the lantern from the shelf and started walking.