Neriss brushed the pebble with her toe and watched what happened.
It bounced off her left ankle,
down through a crack in the rock,
skittered over a smooth boulder,
and then it went off and down,
down,
down,
all the way over into the air where it got smaller and smaller until it was even tinier than the broad lazy Calo syruping its way along far away, so small that she could cross it by blinking.
Thinking of that made her blink, and in that moment her pebble was lost, making her swear and sweat.
“Language,” said a voice at her elbow, and Neriss nearly lost her footing altogether, as she hurled herself about to confront the speaker.
It was a burnt-up, shrivelled-up woman who was twice her age and about one and a half times her size in all dimensions. Just looking at her made you want a drink of water.
But Neriss was here for a reason and so she bit her tongue and gave her most apologetic bow and followed the burnt-up woman back to her home, which was an overhang with three inches of headspace and four inches of kneespace to either side over a three-mile drop, with a little rug made from the outside of a goat who didn’t need it anymore to keep out the wind.
There was a small fire. The burnt woman lit it, and Neriss tended it. The burnt woman made them some tea from frighteningly spiked plants, and Neriss drank it.
“I apologize for my words,” said Neriss. “They were ill-chosen.”
“As well you should,” said the burnt woman firmly. “You need to put a heavier accent on the last syllable. It crisps it properly and gives it a bit of a snap.”
Neriss spent a moment trying to decide how to process this advice and decided it was best to just barrel through it. “Illustrious and aged Ket, apothecary of greater note than any musician, there is an ill person down at the base of the cliffs, too ill to climb. I would beg of you that you-”
“You may beg, but you won’t get it,” said Ket.
“-give a-”
“Try again tomorrow,” said Ket. “Go back down and come back up in the morning.”
So Neriss bit her tongue again – it tasted like copper and frustration – and slid back over the edge of the Sor cliffs, which were so high that birds born on them would appear seasick if they were placed on level ground.
Then she climbed down, ate a very late dinner, and passed out for two hours before beginning the trip back up.
Halfway along, she kicked a loose root a little too hard, and watched ninety tons or more of rock slip away like a loose feather. It looked like it was about to start floating at any moment, but never quite managed it.
The overhang was empty. Ket was out and about.
Neriss hunted along the heights of the cliffs, through gullies and over rubble, finding all kinds of exotic plants with too many pointy parts – usually firsthand, or firsttoe – and in the end, exhausted, she sat on a rock and found a new and amiable kind of spider, which was about the size and shape of a full-grown thistle and eager to say hello.
“Shh, shh,” said Ket.
They stood there, side by side, watching the spider get smaller and smaller – though not small enough for Neriss’s liking – and by and large they returned to Ket’s shelter, which was somehow closer than Neriss had remembered, and they had a new kind of tea, which was made from plants which had no spikes at all but instead a kind of peculiar pustule all over their leaves which looked and smelt almost exactly like human blisters.
“Revered and illuminated Ket,” said Neriss at last. “I have a humble and meaningless request: a dear member of my family is down at the base of this cliff, too sick to move, and would you kindly –”
“Kind or no, I will not go,” said Ket. “Your request is denied. Return to the bottom of the cliff and try again tomorrow.”
This time Neriss sucked both her lips into her mouth and bit them instead of her tongue. It gave her a ghastly sort of white-and-red face, but by the time she stood on solid soil again the bleeding had nearly stopped and she was ready for her evening meal of whatever she could scrape together, just in time to go back up.
Near the top of the cliff, a bird flew by. It was a yard away but might as well have been at the other end of the world; hovering on air as if it were a trick even Neriss could manage, if only she would stretch out her cramping fingers and try hard enough.
Ket wasn’t home again, or the overhang wasn’t actually Ket’s home. Or both.
Neriss found one of the higher outcroppings – a little taller than her uncle Jenn on his tip-toes – and sat down on it. From up here she could see everything, but at such a size that it all looked like nothing. Hold up your hand and boop there goes home, there goes your friends, your friend’s friends, your enemies, your neighbours, your strangers, and everyone else you’ve even heard about. All erased in a finger’s-width.
“Careful there,” said Ket. “You could harm your eyes that way.”
Neriss hopped a little, but not too badly, and they sat there for a while on the slender stone, watching the sun grow and grow until they could see everything around them, everything everywhere, and still not see a fraction of it for what it meant.
“Ket,” said Neriss, “you will not help my family.”
Ket scratched her nose and cleared it for good measure. “No,” she said, “I won’t.”
“But from here,” said Neriss, “I believe I understand why.”
“You should,” agreed Ket.
“From up here we are all so small, smaller than even the tiniest bird on the highest flight,” said Neriss. “I could squint and stare and glare and stamp my feet and try as I might I would never see my home, never see anyone. What difference does one person make against this sight, however loved, however hated, however human?”
“Well, that,” said Ket. “But mostly it’s a damned hike and a half.”
Neriss stared at her.
“What? You’ve done it. Three times now, up and down, and that’s hard enough when you’re young and flexible. Who wants to travel that? Not me.”
Neriss stared at her, but only for a moment. A long, long moment.
Six feet and six inches is a small height, a very low altitude. Relatively speaking. There are few profundities associated with it.
But it’s still a notable enough drop, nonetheless.
Neriss took her time coming down again; her pack and every pocket was filled with every kind of spiky, angry plant she could find plus a few curious spiders, and her irritation was making her clumsy.
But it felt good, to watch the ground swell near under her, and the trees unclump out of the green mass. And there, so very near, was the little lean-to, with her mother making tea.