p&c.thunderhead-第56章

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mb　like　King　Tut's。　And　he　had　found　rich　professional　rewards　in　the　mere　dirt…very　rich　rewards　indeed。　He　had　never　felt　the　slightest　dissatisfaction　with　his　career。　
　Until　now。　He　climbed　hand　over　hand；　moving　up　the　ladder；　stopping　occasionally　to　check　his　harness。　Now；　dirt　seemed　a　poor　substitute　for　gold。　He　thought　about　all　the　gold　that　Cortéz　had　melted　down　into　bars　and　sent　back　to　Spain；　all　the　splendid　works　of　art　turned　into　bullion；　lost　to　the　world。　Its　twin　treasure　sat　in　that　kiva。　
　The　fever　he　had　felt　as　a　twelve…year…old；　first　reading　that　account；　now　burned　in　him　again。　But　again　he　was　torn：　there　was　danger　here；　he　knew。　And　yet；　leaving　the　valley　without　seeing　the　inside　of　the　Sun　Kiva　seemed　almost　unimaginable　to　him。　
　〃Sloane；　talk　to　me；〃　he　called。　〃Are　you　going　to　leave　the　kiva　behind；　just　like　that？〃　
　Sloane　didn't　answer。　
　He　heaved　up　the　ladder；　sweating　and　grunting。　Above；　he　saw　Sloane　preparing　to　make　the　final　climb　around　the　terrifying　brow　of　rock　below　the　summit。　Here；　the　sandstone　was　still　streaked　with　moisture　from　the　rain；　and　it　glowed　a　blood…drenched　crimson。　
　〃Sloane；　say　something；　please；〃　he　gasped。　
　〃There's　nothing　to　say；〃　came　the　clipped　response。　
　Black　shook　his　head。　〃How　could　your　father　have　made　a　mistake　like　putting　her　in　charge？　If　it　were　you；　we'd　be　making　history　right　now。〃　
　Sloane's　only　response　was　to　disappear　around　the　brow　of　rock。　Taking　a　deep　breath；　Black　followed　her　up　the　last　pitch。　Two　minutes　later；　he　struggled　up　over　the　rim　and　threw　himself　into　the　sand；　exhausted；　angry；　utterly　despondent。　He　sucked　the　air　deep　into　his　lungs；　trying　to　catch　his　breath。　The　air　was　a　lot　cooler　up　here；　and　a　stiff　breeze　was　blowing；　smelling　of　pine　and　juniper。　He　sat　up；　pulling　off　the　annoying　harness。　〃All　this　way；〃　he　said。　〃All　this　work。　Just　to　be　cheated　out　of　the　greatest　discovery　at　the　last　minute。〃　
　But　Sloane　didn't　answer。　He　was　aware　of　her　presence　standing　to　one　side；　silent　and　unmoving。　Everywhere　the　glint　of　gold。　。　。　。　Remotely；　he　was　curious　why　Sloane　was　just　standing　there；　making　no　move　to　get　started。　With　a　muttered　curse；　he　stood　up　and　glanced　at　her。　
　Sloane's　expression　was　so　unfamiliar；　so　unexpectedly　dramatic；　that　he　simply　stared。　Her　face　had　lost　all　its　color。　She　remained　where　she　was；　unmoving；　staring　out　over　the　trees；　her　lips　slightly　drawn　back　from　her　teeth。　In　a　strange　trick　of　the　light　he　saw　her　amber　eyes　deepen　to　mahogany；　as　if　a　sudden　shadow　had　been　cast　upon　them。　At　last；　unlocking　his　eyes　from　her　face；　he　slowly　turned　to　follow　her　gaze。　
　A　dark　mass　rose　above　and　far　beyond　the　ridge；　so　enormous　and　fearsome　it　took　Black　a　moment　to　prehend　its　true　nature。　Above　the　lofty　prow　of　the　Kaiparowits　Plateau　rose　a　thunderhead　the　likes　of　which　he　had　never　seen。　It　looked；　he　thought　distantly；　more　like　an　atomic　explosion　than　a　storm。　Its　moiled　foot　ran　at　least　thirty　miles　along　the　spine　of　the　plateau；　turning　the　ridge　into　a　zone　of　dead　black；　from　this　base　rose　the　body　of　the　storm；　surging　and　billowing　upward　to　perhaps　forty　thousand　feet。　It　flattened　itself　against　the　tropopause　and　sheared　off　into　an　anvil…shaped　head　at　least　fifty　miles　across。　A　heavy；　tenebrous　curtain　of　rain　dropped　from　its　base；　as　opaque　as　steel；　obscuring　all　but　the　very　point　of　the　distant　plateau　in　a　veil　of　water。　There　was　a　monstrous　play　of　lightning　inside　the　great　thunderhead；　vast　flickerings　and　dartings；　ominously　silent　in　the　distance。　As　he　watched；　mesmerized　and　terrified　at　once；　the　thunderhead　continued　to　spread；　its　dirty　tentacles　creeping　across　the　blue　sky。　Even　the　air　on　the　canyon　rim　seemed　to　grow　charged　with　electricity；　the　scent　of　violence　drifting　through　the　pi？ons　as　if　from　a　faraway　battleground。　
　Black　remained　motionless；　transfixed　by　the　awful　sight；　as　Sloane　moved　slowly；　like　a　sleepwalker；　toward　the　stunted　tree　that　held　the　weather　receiver。　There　was　a　snap　of　a　switch；　then　a　low　wash　of　static。　As　the　unit　locked　onto　the　preset　wavelength；　the　static　gave　way　to　the　monotonous；　nasal　voice　of　a　weather　announcer　in　Page；　Arizona；　giving　a　litany　of　details；　statistics；　and　numbers。　Then　Black　heard；　with　superhuman　clarity；　the　forecast：　〃Clear　skies　and　warmer　temperatures　for　the　rest　of　the　day；　with　less　than　five　percent　chance　of　precipitation。〃　
　Black　swivelled　his　eyes　from　the　thunderhead　to　the　sky　directly　above　them：　bright；　flawless　blue。　He　looked　down　into　the　valley　of　Quivira；　peaceful　and　quiet；　the　camp　awash　in　morning　sunlight。　The　dichotomy　was　so　extreme　that；　for　a　moment；　he　could　not　prehend　it。　
　He　stared　back　at　Sloane。　Her　lips；　still　withdrawn　from　her　teeth；　looked　somehow　feral。　Her　whole　being　was　tense　with　an　internal　epiphany。　Black　waited；　suddenly　breathless；　as　she　snapped　off　the　instrument。　
　〃What…？〃　Black　began　to　ask；　but　the　look　on　Sloane's　face　silenced　him。　
　〃You　heard　Nora's　orders。　Let's　get　this　disassembled　and　down　into　camp。〃　Sloane's　voice　was　brisk；　businesslike；　neutral。　She　swung　up　into　the　stunted　juniper　and　in　a　moment　had　unwound　the　antenna；　taken　down　the　receiver；　and　packed　it　in　a　net　bag。　She　glanced　at　Black。　
　〃Let's　go；〃　she　said。　
　Without　another　word；　she　swung　the　bag　over　her　shoulder　and　walked　to　the　ladder。　In　a　moment；　she　had　disappeared　down　into　blue　space。　
　Confused；　Black　slowly　buckled　on　his　harness；　took　hold　of　the　rope　ladder；　and　began　to　follow　her　down。　
　*　*　*
　Ten　minutes　later；　he　stepped　off　the　rope　ladder。　His　distraction　was　so　plete　that　he　only　knew　he　had　reached　the　bottom　when　his　foot　sank　into　the　wet　sand。　He　stood　there；　irresolutely；　and　again　turned　his　eyes　upward。　Overhead；　the　sky　was　an　immaculate　azure　from　rim　to　rim。　There　was　no　hint　of　the　cataclysm　taking　place　twenty　miles　away；　at　the　head　of　their　watershed。　He　removed　the　harness　and　walked　back　toward　camp；　his　steps　stiff　and　wooden。　Despite　the　burden　of　the　receiver；　Sloane　had　scuttled　down　the　cliff　face　like　a　spider；　and　she　was　in　camp　already；　dropping　the　equipment　beside　the　last　pile　of　drysacks。　
　Nora's　urgent　voice　brought　Black　out　of　his　reverie。　〃What's　the　report？〃　he　heard　her　ask　Sloane。　
　Sloane　didn't　answer。　
　〃Sloane；　we　have　no　time。　Will　you　please　give　me　the　weather　report？〃　The　exasperation　in　Nora's　voice　was　unmistakable。　
　〃Clear　skies　and　warmer　temperatures　for　the　rest　of　the　day；〃　Sloane　said；　in　a　monotone。　〃Less　than　a　five　percent　chance　of　precipitation。〃　
　Black　watched　as　the　strained　look　on　Nora's　face　was　replaced　by　a　flood　of　relief。　The　suspicion　and　concern　vanished　from　her　eyes。　〃That's　great；〃　she　said　with　a　smile。　〃Thanks；　you　two。　I'd　like　everybody　to　help　take　the　last　of　the　drysacks　up　to　the　caching　site。　Then；　Aaron；　you　can　go　ahead　and　seal　up　the　entrance　to　the　hidden　cavern。　Roscoe；　perhaps　you　should　go　with　him。　Keep　a　close　eye　on　each　other。　We'll　be　back　to　help　you　take　the　last　load　out　in　ninety　minutes　or　so。〃　
　A　strange；　utterly　foreign　sensation　began　to　creep　up　Black's　spine。　With　a　growing　sense　of　unreality；　he　came　up　beside　Sloane　and　watched　as　Nora　gave　a　shout　and　a　wave　to　Smithback。　They　were　quickly　joined　by　Aragon。　Then　the　three　walked　toward　the　rows　of　supplies；　shouldered　their　drysacks；　and　started　for　the　mouth　of　the　slot　canyon。　
　After　a　moment；　Black　tore　himself　away　and　turned　toward　Sloane。　〃What　are　you　doing？〃　he　asked；　his　voice　cracking。　
　Sloane　met　his　gaze。　〃What　am　I　doing？　I'm　not　doing　anything；　Aaron。〃　
　〃But　we　saw…〃　Black　began；　then　faltered。　
　〃What　did　we　see？〃　Sloane　hissed　suddenly；　rounding　on　him。　〃All　I　did　was　get　the　weather　report　and　give　it　to　Nora。　Just　as　she　demanded。　If　you　saw　something；　say　so　now。　If　not；　then　shut　your　mouth　about　it　forever。〃　
　Black　stared　into　her　eyes：　her　whole　frame　was　trembling；　her　lips　white　with　emotion。　He　glanced　upcanyon；　in　time　to　see　the　group　of　three　cross　the　stream；　toil　briefly　up　the　scree　slope；　and　disappear　into　the　dark；　terrible　slit　of　rock。　
　Then　he　looked　back　at　Sloane。　As　she　read　his　eyes；　the　tension　in　her　frame　ebbed　away。　And　then；　slowly；　she　nodded。　
　
　
46
　
　JOHN　BEIYOODZIN　HALTED　HIS　HORSE　AT　THE　top　of　the　hogback　ridge　and　looked　down　into　the　valley　of　Chilbah。　The　horse　had　taken　the　trail　well；　but　he　was　still　trembling；　damp　with　perspiration。　Beiyoodzin　waited；　murmuring　soothing　words；　giving　him　time　to　recover。　The　late　morning　sun　was　glinting　off　the　peaceful　thread　of　water　winding　through　the　valley　bottom；　a　ribbon　of　quicksilver　amid　the　lush　greenery。　On　the　high　benchlands　above；　the　wind　stirred　the　cottonwoods　and　copses　of　oaks。　He　could　smell　sage　and　ozone　in　the　air。　There　was　a　sudden　stirring　of　wind　that　pressed　at　his　back；　as　if　urging　him　over　the　side。　Beiyoodzin　restrained　an　impulse　to　look；　he　knew　all　too　well　what　loomed　up　behind　him。　
　The　buckskin　shook　out　his　mane；　and　Beiyoodzin　patted　him　soothingly　on　the　neck。　He　closed　his　eyes　a　moment；　calming　himself；　trying　to　reconcile　his　mind　to　the　confrontation　that　lay　ahead。　
　But　calm　would　not　e。　He　felt　a　sudden　surge　of　anger　at　himself：　he　should　have　told　the　woman　everything　when　he　had　the　chance。　She　had　been　honest　with　him。　And　she　deserved　to　know。　It　had　been　foolish　to　tell　her　only　half　of　the　story。　Worse；　it　had　been　unkind　and　selfish　to　lie。　And　now；　as　a　result　of　his　weakness；　he　found　himself　on　a　journey　that　he　would　have　given　almost　anything　to　avoid。　He　could　hardly　bring　himself　to　contemplate　the　terrible　nature　of　the　evil　he　had　to　confront。　And　yet　he　had　no　choice　but　to　prepare　himself　for　conflict；　perhaps；　even；　for　death。　
　Beiyoodzin　finally　saw　the　situation　clearly；　and　he　was　not　happy　with　the　role　he　had　played。　Sixteen　years　before；　a　small　imbalance；　a　minor　ugliness…ni　zshinitso…had　been　injected　into　the　small　world　of　his　people。　They　had　ignored　it。　And　as　a　result　the　small　imbalance　had　bee；　as　they　should　have　known　it　would；　a　great　evil。　As　a　healer；　he　should　have　guided　them　to　doing　what　was　right。　It　was　precisely　because　of　this　old　imbalance；　this　absence　of　truth；　that　these　people　were　now　down　in　Chilbah；　digging。　He　shuddered。　And　it　was　because　of　this　imbalance　that　the　eskizzi；　the　wolfskin　runners；　had　bee　active　again。　And　now　it　had　fallen　to　him　to　correct　the　imbalance。　
　At　last；　he　reluctantly　turned　around　and　gazed　toward　the　storm；　amazed　to　see　it　still　growing　and　swelling；　like　some　vast　malignant　beast。　Here；　as　if　he　needed　it；　was　a　physical　manifestation　of　the　imbalance。　It　was　releasing　ever　thicker；　blacker；　denser　columns　of　rain　down　onto　the　Kaiparowits　Plateau。　It　was　a　tremendous　rain；　a　five…hundred…year　rain。　Beiyoodzin　had　never　seen　its　equal。　
　His　gaze　moved　over　the　distant　guttered　landscape　between　the　thunderhead　and　the　valley；　trying　to　pick　out　the　flash　of　moving　water；　but　the　canyons　were　too　deep。　In　his　mind's　eye　he　could　see　the　torrential　rains　falling　hard　on　the　slickrock　of　the　Kaiparowits；　the　drops　coalescing　in