“Heights often bring me inspiration. Sit down, and wait.”
Refreshed by his sleep, Maskull immediately attacked the face of the cliff, and took the first twenty feet at a single rush. Then it grew precipitous, and the ascent demanded greater circumspection and intelligence. There were few hand- or footholds: he had to reflect before every step. On the other hand, it was sound rock, and he was no novice at the sport. Branchspell glared full on the wall, so that it half blinded him with its glittering whiteness.
After many doubts and pauses he drew near the top. He was hot, sweating copiously, and rather dizzy. To reach a ledge he caught hold of two projecting rocks, one with each hand, at the same time scrambling upward, his legs between the rocks. The left-hand rock, which was the larger of the two, became dislodged by his weight, and, flying like a huge, dark shadow past his head, crashed down with a terrifying sound to the foot of the precipice, followed by an avalanche of smaller stones. Maskull steadied himself as well as he could, but it was some moments before he dared to look down behind him.
At first he could not distinguish Leehallfae. Then he caught sight of legs and hindquarters a few feet up the cliff from the bottom. He perceived that the phaen had aer head in a cavity and was scrutinising something, and waited for aer to reappear.
Ae emerged, looked up to Maskull, and called out in aer hornlike voice, “The entrance is here!”
“I’m coming down!” roared Maskull. “Wait for me!”
He descended swiftly—without taking too much care, for he thought he recognised his “luck” in this discovery—and within twenty minutes was standing beside the phaen.
“What happened?”
“The rock you dislodged struck this other rock just above the spring. It tore it out of its bed. See—now there’s room for us to get in!”
“Don’t get excited!” said Maskull. “It’s a remarkable accident, but we have plenty of time. Let me look.”