The Realms of the Gods by Tamora Pierce Page B

shoulders. “Are you all right?” Numair asked. “Heights don’t bother you.”
    â€œIt’s the bridge as much as the height,” she replied.
    â€œI will carry your things, if you want to shift,” he told her softly. “A shape change is out of the question for me. We must keep our food and weapons, for one. For another, I would hate to use my Gift to fly across, then need it to handle trouble on the other side.”
    â€œIf we are going today, let us begin,” urged the badger. “I would like to be across before anyone, or anything, else comes by.”
    The thought of being caught on that bridge by an enemy made Daine’s stomach roll. “He’s right.” She tried to smile at Numair. “We’d best start walking.”
    Numair put down the duckmole and stood back. Silver fire bloomed, shrank: The gods vanished, to reappear on the far side of the canyon.
    Daine insisted that Numair go first, and tried not to watch as he carefully moved away from the cliff. When he was well ahead, she bit her lip and stepped onto the first plank. It shuddered beneath her weight; the whole structure shook with her friend’s movement. Trembling, she seized the rope handholds: firmly with her right hand, awkwardly with her left, the one in which she carried the bow.
    Numair slipped, making the bridge rock. Like Daine, he’d managed the barest hold on the left-hand rope, hampered by his staff. “It takes getting used to,” he called to her.
    â€œIt’s stood for time out of mind!” The badger’s voice came from the air near them.
    â€œThat’s what I’m afraid of,” they both chorused.
    Numair glanced back at the girl, and grinned. She had to smile as well. Carefully, he walked on, eyes on the planks before him.
    She’d meant to keep her eyes forward. Instantly she discovered that would be impossible. Gaps lay between the wide boards. To avoid putting a foot through an opening, she had to look where she stepped, and wastreated to a view of the river as it wound between tall, jagged rocks far below. She forged ahead, a step at a time.
    Away from the cliff, she walked into a brisk, playful breeze. “Of course,” she growled. “What would a First Bridge be without its own plank-rocking first wind!”
    Movement pulled her attention to her chest, rather than her footing. Shimmering with light, the darking that had been tucked into her belt purse now hung by a tentacle from her belt. The other darking had flowed off her neck to swarm over the belt darking, hitting it with tentacles shaped like hammers. She heard small plops as each blow landed.
    â€œHere, you two, stop it! This isn’t the time—”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” The breeze was strong enough that Numair was forced to shout. He was more than forty yards distant, a third of the way across the bridge.
    â€œI don’t know!” she yelled. “It’s the darkings! Enough!” she told her passengers. Clutching the left handhold with fingers still wrapped around her bow, she released the right-hand rope and grabbed the top darking. She pulled it away from the one on her belt and stuffed it down the back of her shirt. Seizing the belt darking, she held it up.
    Examining the darking, she gasped and nearly dropped it. Its center was filled by Ozorne’s face. He grinned and waved, then vanished. The darking was solid shadow once more. Daine stuffed it into her belt purse and tied the pouch shut with one hand. As she seized the right handhold again, her magical senses prickled. Wind made the bridge jump. Clinging to the rails, the girl looked for the disturbance. Far overhead, the sky rippled.
    â€œUh-oh,” she whispered. Like the tauros, something, or someone, was crossing from one realm to the other.
    Winged shapes came into view, as if they flew through a waterfall or beaded curtain. Please let them befriendly, Daine thought, shaping