He began to put the tools back. “I’ve had a lot of time to examine this pit. It is a maze, all connected to this central tower of rock. The maze walls are like low cliffs. If we stay on the walls, they can’t get to us.”

“They can walk on the bridges and balconies.”

“Those are paths within and above the pit. We should be able to climb sideways along the walls all the way to the edge without having to drop to the ground. I’ve been able to map out a route where it seems there will be plenty of foot- and handholds and a series of ledges where we can rest along the way.”

“Are you going to chip out handholds with a chisel and hammer?”

“I likely can’t get enough swing on a hammer but we do have them if we need them. We can easily smash stairs, if we need to. We’ll stay above and below the ghouls, climb out of the pit, find warded ground, and cross back to the mortal world. We have no money, but we can work our way wherever we need to go with my carpentry and your sewing. So you see, now that we are together, we have everything we need. Are you ready?”

I nodded. He ripped a scrap of cloth from one of the old pagnes and tied it around his neck like a buccaneer’s kerchief. Tying the apron back on, he rigged his sword and the hatchet so he could grab them easily. I bound up my skirts, binding my sword and the now-lightened pack across my back. We drained one flask of spring water and, thus fortified, set out.

Handing me a chisel, he said, “Don’t look at anything except me.”

For once, I had no teasing retort.

We worked our way off the balcony with its decorative ribbons. For the very first part I saw the same thing he did: the uneven face of the cleft. Its manifold protuberances and hand-width shelves were easy to negotiate. But then I had to follow him as onto open air. It was like walking out over a chasm. His shoulders bunching and releasing beneath his jacket became my lodestone. The sweat beading on the back of his neck fascinated me. He had a really beautifully shaped head, brown and lovely.

Watching him helped me not look at my hands groping through empty air or across illusory vistas that still looked to me like streaming masses of ribbons. Often I shut my eyes and felt along the rugged cliff rather than grow dizzy from the confusion between what I could see and what I could touch.

Hadn’t it always been that way with Andevai? When I had first met him, I had seen one man, but I had had to discover the part of himself he kept concealed.