for it was more than two man lengths wide at this point, certainly
farther than he could jump.
As he was pondering the problem, the red orb of the sun fell behind the shoulder of the ledge; the shadows lengthened and
darkness descended with the finality of death.
Blinking to adjust his eyes and take in what little light was available, Braldt backed up against the ledge, knowing that
it would provide the only protection available. The ledge was too high to permit an animal to drop down upon him. If he could
edge as close as possible to the precipice hecould only be approached from the front and the right, narrowing the odds somewhat. But as his fingers felt their way along
the rock, the rock fell away suddenly several paces short of the edge of the plateau.
Braldt whirled, wondering if his eyes had been tricked by the shadows, had missed the opening of a cave where some creature
might even now be waiting to spring. There was no cave. What there was, what Braldt’s eyes had failed to find, was a slender
trail that led along the edge of the precipice, flanked on one side by the steep rising cliff and on the other side by empty
air. The trail was narrow, but it was wide enough for a lupebeast… and wide enough for Braldt to follow.
2
The ledge rose steadily beneath Braldt’s feet. As warm as it was during the day, the temperature fell swiftly when the sun went down, and the cold night air came out of the north
and swept around him, cutting through his thin blue robes and chilling him to the bone. Worse than the cold, the wind ushered
his scent before him, announcing his presence to any who might lurk in the darkness.
The smell of water was stronger now, reminding Braldt of his own hunger and thirst. It had been two days since he had last
eaten, and that had been a small ground squirrel eaten raw. His only moisture had been that which he was able to extract from
the bitter, oily leaves of the ciba, a skeletal, thorny bush that grew in the dry red desert sands. But he put the thought
from him, knowing that he could drink his fill after the lupebeast had been found. For now he concentrated on keeping his
footing. The edge of the trail crumbled beneath his weight and the darkness of the defile yawned, waiting for his first and
last misstep.
Then, suddenly, the cliff fell away beneath his fingers and there was nothing before him but cold, empty darkness. Fighting
down the panic, his questing fingers sought the solid comfort of the rock and found it curving away at a sharp angle to his
left. The trail itself had ended for there was nothing but empty space beyond. Clinging to the rock and pressing his back
hard against the cliff, he peered around the abrupt corner and saw that the trail resumed on the far side. Starlight and the
rising crescent of moon revealed a fresh scar where a large section of rock had broken away carrying the trail with it.
Braldt inched backward until he reached a relativelywide spot. He turned so that he faced inward toward the cliff and then retraced his steps. It would be tricky, but if he could
retain his footing and straddle the open space, perhaps he could gain the other side.
His fingers seized a bit of rock that seemed firmly bedded in the cliff, and placing all his weight on his left foot, he moved
his right foot out over the broken trail, searching blindly for the other side, and found nothing. Sharp, stinging sweat dripped
into his eyes and his stomach fluttered nervously. A rock stinger skittered toward him, head down, death-dealing tail coiled
above its back, defying gravity. Braldt bared his teeth in hatred and flicked the creature away before it could inflict its
painful sting. But where there was one, there would be more. Determined, Braldt moved to the very edge of the chasm and shifted
his weight to the right, clinging to the rock by his fingertips as his feet desperately sought secure footing. Rock crumbled
and fell beneath the