“Yes, it does. It told me to come here.”
“Then please come with us and do not speak of that other again.”
They began again, climbing steadily up the barren slopes of stony hills, heat rising from the rock in waves … but the path of jewels was cool beneath Dorrin’s feet and smoothed her way. The watchers did not attempt to step onto it. Finally Dorrin asked them why they did not.
“Only the One may set foot upon the sacred,” said Qaraf. “It is not for us. It is for you and because you are bringing it home.”
That day and the next they worked their way to the foot of the mountains. Dorrin looked back now and then to the shimmer of the water behind. The view widened as they climbed; she could now see distant islands and a smudge that might be another island or the nearest part of the shore of Aarenis.
When she was thirsty, the goblet came near and gave her water. None of the others would drink of it but sipped now and then from waterskins.
As they neared the mountains, Dorrin saw shattered rock, red and black spires of it, and nothing more. Higher up the slopes—no trees, no bushes. Her guides led her straight toward a cliff; she wondered how they would climb it, for she could see no trail. Then one vanished into the rock, and she followed into a narrow cleft, as if someone had cut the rock with a sword … but not a straight cut. The cleft twisted, divided, rejoined, climbing up stone steps that looked as if water had once flowed down them … then leveled again, twisted, climbed.
Traversing the mountains took days; Dorrin lost count of them. Her guides knew of a few scant sources of water. “For sometimes a rain comes from the sea, and the rock holds it.” The watchers had, over the years, enlarged sheltered basins to store this rainwater. They had also tunneled out from these—over how many years, Dorrin could not imagine—to create lookout points from which they could observe long stretches of the shore.
“We knew the One would come,” Silig said. “And as the years passed and the life of the land failed, those we now cradle prepared for the years of duty ahead. From here we see all that come to these shores … though … in my lifetime … not all these watch stands were watched. Not all still hold water enough.”
Dorrin looked out the hole in the rock, down across the barren hills to the barren dunes, and then to the sea. The sails of three ships caught the light; more islands than she had known of studded the sea, though she could not tell if people dwelt there.
“How are so many of you here, then? Is the place the crown told me of nearby?”
“No, Queen of Water. It is many days’ journey inland. But three or four winters ago, the Guardians had received a sign and said the veil had been drawn aside and the One would come in the lifetime of those young enough. We were sent, all the Watchers, to be sure that the One would find welcome and guides. We were in each of the watch places, all along the coast, and when one of us saw you wash ashore with those—” He pointed to the jewels. “—word passed to the others. As many of us as could went down to meet you.”
She could have died before they arrived. But perhaps not; she’d had pure water to drink, and a few days’ fast would not have been fatal. The watchers themselves needed water and food … they could not have gone from shore to the water basins even every other day.
For several days more they followed steep trails up and steep trails down, sleeping each night near one of the water sources. Dorrin lost track of the days, for the crown had begun to sing, and the song in her head distracted her from anything as mundane as counting the days that passed. The song sounded of water now … drips at first, then trickles, then the chuckling of a small stream. What words she could discern were few, “almost” and “soon” and “closer.” The jewels that laid a path for her feet made a couch each night for her rest and a seat whenever she needed one.
Finally they came out of yet another narrow cleft to look down a slope to barren country below. Far off, a lighter color might be dunes, Dorrin thought, but nearer, it was clear the land was mostly rock and gravel, undulating toward the south. Waves of hot air shimmered in the sun, and a hot breeze flowed up to touch her face. Dorrin squinted through the heat haze and thought she saw a huge lake shining in the distance.
“Is that water salt?” she asked, pointing.
“It is not water at all,” Silig said. “It is the lure that the Liar puts out to tempt the wanderer away from what little water there is. We will spend the day in this shade and start at dusk, for the plain is hotter than the mountains.”
Dorrin slept poorly in the afternoon; heat radiated from the rocks, and despite the cool of the jewels beneath her, the hot air from below seemed to scorch her face.