The path along the valley ended there.
Two thick wooden posts stood at the edge of the cliff. Once, a rope bridge must have stretched from here to the far side. Now there wasn't a single plank left. They had rotted and dropped, every one, to the bottom of the valley. The handrail ropes were gone too.
All that remained was one thick cable, running from the post straight out into the black mist.
"...You're not telling me we're crossing that."
Miro's voice cracked. Luca tapped the post with the stick's iron tip and clicked his tongue.
Tok. Tch.
The sound came back from somewhere out past the mist, a long time later.
"It's about thirty paces to the far side. There's a post over there too."
"Thirty paces. On one cable."
"The stairs to the seventeenth floor are only on the far side."
Celes glared into the mist. Luca crouched down at the foot of the post. A long pole lay there, half buried in moss.
It was thin and springy, twice as long as Luca was tall. Both ends were painted with faded red and white stripes.
"That's an acrobat's pole. You hold it in both hands when you walk a tightrope."
◆ ◆ ◆
—On the rope, don't look down.
Watch the rope with the soles of your feet. How thick it is, how taut, how it sways. The soles of your feet will tell you all of it.
The pole is part of your arms. When it sways, let the pole soak it up.
And don't stop. Stop, and the sway builds up.
The troupe master knocked him off the rope a thousand times. He fell a thousand times, and from the thousand-and-first, he stopped falling.
Through the mist, one step at a time. This is the way home, back up to the surface. At his waist is the end of a new guide rope. On the bank behind him, his comrades are waiting. The dark weasels gnawed through the old guide rope.
Under his soles, the hardness of the post. He's across.
He ties the guide rope to the post and gives it a tug. His comrades come across, one at a time.
Just as the last of them climbs up onto the bank, deep in the mist, the dark weasels begin to stir.
"Run!"
He throws the pole aside and runs for the stairs going up.
◆ ◆ ◆
Echo inherited: [Rope Walking].
Luca stayed quiet for a while, still holding the pole.
"Luca?"
"...He was from the same troupe as the [Breakfall] man."
"[Breakfall]?"
"I picked up an elbow guard in the shaft on the eighth floor. That man was in an acrobat troupe too. He said his master threw him a thousand times. This one said he got knocked off the rope a thousand times."
Celes's eyes went round.
"You mean they were trained by the same master?"
"Probably. ...They were both really good techniques."
* * *
Luca took a long rope out of Miro's pack. Grun had told them to bring three.
He tied one end around his waist. The other end, he tied to the post on this side.
"Luca. Are you really going?"
"Yes. Once I'm across, I'll tie the rope to the post and tug it twice. Then use the rope as a handrail and come over."
Luca took the pole in both hands and stepped up onto the cable.
The cable lurched.
Don't look down. Watch the cable with the soles of your feet.
One step. The cable swayed to the left. He dipped the right end of the pole, just a little. The sway soaked into the pole and faded away.
Two steps. Three. Don't stop. Stop, and the sway builds up.
Soon the bank behind him had been swallowed by the mist. Ahead, there was nothing to see either. Luca clicked his tongue.
Tch.
Little by little, the echo off the far post drew closer. The mist brushed cold across his cheeks. Under his feet there was nothing. Only one cable.
Fifteen steps.
Just then, the cable under his soles gave a tiny shiver.
Snik. Snik.
It was coming from the far post. [Sense Presence] caught a single small presence. Something at the foot of the post was gnawing on the cable.
A dark weasel...!
He couldn't stop. Stop, and the sway builds up. Still walking, Luca took his right hand off the pole and pointed a finger into the mist.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Burst."
Snap!
A tiny flame went off somewhere near the far post. A shrill shriek went up, and the presence fled off into the mist. The shivering in the cable stopped.
Twenty steps. Twenty-five.
His sole touched something hard. The rock at the foot of the post.
Where the cable was tied to the post, it had been gnawed halfway through. Luca untied the rope from his waist and wound it around and around the post, gnawed part and all. He knotted it off and gave it two hard tugs.
* * *
After a while, Celes appeared out of the mist.
She came along the cable sideways, one step at a time, both hands gripping the handrail rope. A safety line ran from her waist around the handrail. When she reached the bank, white as a sheet, she sank down right where she was.
Behind her, Miro's voice was getting closer.
"Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down..."
"Miro. You can't see down. It's all mist."
"That's why it's scary!"
A big body with a great shield on its back was inching across the cable sideways. The cable sagged deep under him.
"Please don't stop. Stop, and the sway builds up."
"You got that from the pole guy just now, didn't you!"
"Yes. Also, a dark weasel had gnawed the cable halfway through, so I wrapped it with rope."
"Say that first!"
Miro took the last step and rolled onto the rocks of the bank. Then he lay there spread-eagled and didn't move for a good while.
"...Never again."
"We come back this way, too."
Miro didn't answer.
* * *
At the bottom of the stairs to the seventeenth floor, the three of them made camp.
They were on a lakeshore. A perfectly flat sheet of water, without a single ripple, stretched as far as they could see. It held the light of the glowmoss on the ceiling, so that the whole lake glittered like a starry sky.
"The Mirror Lake. Tomorrow, we cross it."
Celes said it with her hands held out to the campfire. Miro, bundled up in his blanket, let out an enormous sneeze.
"Ah-CHOO!"
"Miro, have you caught a cold?"
"Got chilled in the Drowned Corridor. ...Sturdy doesn't do a thing for colds."
Toasting jerky over the fire, Luca added a line to his notebook.
[Rope Walking]. Forty.
His stomach growled.
* * *
In the morning, the Mirror Lake was even quieter than it had been at night.
Not a single ripple. Not a breath of wind. The glowmoss on the ceiling was reflected so perfectly in the surface that it was hard to tell where the water began.
They couldn't see into the water at all. The surface threw the light straight back, like a mirror.
"There are mirror rays under the mirror," Celes said, lowering her voice.
"Their skin reflects light like a mirror, so you can't see them from above. Normally they sleep on the bottom, but when there are waves, they come in close. They have a poison barb on the tail."
"So we just don't make any waves."
"Right. ...As long as you don't sneeze."
Miro sniffled.
* * *
Behind a rock at the old campsite, the bones of an enormous fish lay scattered in pieces.
They were flat bones, bigger than a boat. In the middle of them, a harpoon stood stuck upright. Its shaft was crowded with notches, carved, by the look of it, to count catches.
"A mirror ray hunter's harpoon. Mirror ray skin sells for a lot."
Luca took hold of the shaft.
◆ ◆ ◆
—You can't see under the mirror.
So don't try. Close your eyes.
What's on the far side of the water comes up through the hull, along with the water's movement. What's on the far side of the rock comes with the rock's cold. If there's something in between, feel it, in-between and all.
...There. Under the boat, from the right. Big. Bigger than the boat. Hungry, and circling slowly.
Where it'll surface next—its presence tells you.
The mirror breaks.
Throw the harpoon. A solid hit.
The mirror ray thrashes. Its poison tail sweeps across the gunwale. A burning pain in his leg.
...Damn it. Forty years at this, and I botch it at the very end.
His comrades row the boat toward shore. The harpoon line slides out of his hand.
Near the shore, the mirror ray, harpoon still in its back, slowly rolls belly-up and floats.
◆ ◆ ◆
Stacked Echoes are becoming one.
Echo inherited: [Sense Presence: Refined].
A deep weight settled into the core of his head. Forty years of feeling around under the mirror.
Luca didn't open his eyes. He kept them closed and turned toward the lake.
He knew.
The bell scout's skill. The scout in the mist's skill. And now, the mirror ray hunter's. The three of them had melted together into one.
"...There are a lot of them under the mirror."
"You can see them?"
"I can tell, almost like seeing. Three in the shallows over to the right. They're asleep. One bigger one in the deep part in the middle. ...It's hungry."
Celes and Miro looked at each other.
"You can tell all that?"
"Yes. What's there, how big it is, what it's doing. Even through water. Even through rock."
Luca's stomach let out a roar like a beast's. On that rippleless lake, it was the only sound.
"...The mirror rays didn't hear that, did they?"
"I don't think it carries into the water."
* * *
Three small boats had been pulled up on the shore. Beside them stood a little hut whose roof had fallen in. An old sign was nailed to the doorpost.
Boatkeeper's Hut. Make No Waves.
"They say there used to be a ferryman here too. A master at crossing the Mirror Lake without raising a single ripple."
A black, glossy oar hung on the wall of the hut.
◆ ◆ ◆
—An oar doesn't cut the water.
Slip it in, gently. Don't push. Carry the water along with it, slowly.
Pulling it out, lay the blade flat and draw it out smooth. Don't leave a single wrinkle on the surface.
Don't break the mirror.
Four passengers today. All of them sitting very still, holding their breath.
The boat glides across the middle of the lake. Under the mirror, the mirror rays sleep on.
He brings the boat in at the far shore and lets the passengers off. Then he rows back to this side.
He hangs the oar on the wall of the hut.
Let the lake be quiet tomorrow, too.
◆ ◆ ◆
Echo inherited: [Oar Work].
Luca ate three sticks of jerky, one after another, before he took the oar down from the wall.
* * *
They pushed one of the boats out onto the lake and all three climbed in. Luca sat in the stern and slipped the oar into the water.
Gently. Not pushing. Carrying the water along, slowly. Pulling out with the blade flat, smooth.
The boat began to glide forward. Behind the stern, the surface of the lake was left without a single wrinkle.
"...There aren't any waves," Celes whispered, peering over the side.
The three faces reflected in the mirror slid slowly away behind them.
They were in the middle of the lake when it happened.
"Hah..."
Miro's nose was twitching.
"Hah... hah..."
"Miro! Hold it in!"
"Please hold it in."
"I kn-know, I... hah..."
Miro clamped both hands over his nose. His face went bright red. For a while, he sat frozen like that.
Then he let out a breath of relief.
"...It stopped."
"Thank goodness..."
"AH-CHOO!!"
The boat lurched.
The mirror broke. A great ring of waves spread out from the boat across the whole face of the lake.
* * *
"They're coming."
Luca closed his eyes. Beneath the mirror, the sleeping presences were waking up, one after another.
"Two from below. One from the right. The one on the right is big. The hungry one from before."
He slipped the oar in and carried the water along. The boat slid smoothly to the left. Where the boat had just been, the surface bulged. A flat, silver shadow.
"It's going to jump on the left!"
The instant Luca shouted, the water on the left split open. A big ray, shining like a mirror, leaped into the air.
"Flame, crack and burst!"
Bang!
Fire burst right in front of the ray's belly. It flipped over in midair and slammed back down into the lake.
"The big one on the right has gone under. ...Its tail's coming!"
On the right side of the boat, a long tail whipped up out of the water. At its tip was a black barb.
"Hraaah!"
Miro thrust his great shield out over the side. Gonnng. The barb hit iron. The boat tipped hard, but Luca's oar soaked up the rocking, water and all.
"I'm going to row. Hold on, please."
Luca slipped the oar in. Not pushing. Carrying the water. Only much faster than before.
The boat that made no waves slid smoothly away between the mirror rays' presences.
* * *
By the time they brought the boat in at the far shore, the lake had almost gone back to being a mirror.
"...Miro."
"Okay, I'm sorry!"
Miro half fell out of the boat, still hugging his great shield. On the face of the shield, there was one more mark now: a mirror ray's barb.
"But you stopped it. The tail."
"...Course I did. I'm the shield."
Miro gave a loud, wet sniff.