Chapter three
Concerning shooting wagersFrom the Ivory Cone the two distant peaks looked very much like the jaws of a dinosaur, head upturned, gaping at the sky. That was why they were called the Lacachun.
“If they’ve crunched down on Ty—” Jaezila gripped the rail and her voice was unsteady. I did not touch her.
“You know Tyfar.”
“As I said — I do!”
The Ivory Cone passed away to the side, sleek and pointed and shining white, with long gray falls between the snow slopes. We all wore thick flying furs. Our faces glowed, nipped by the chill. On we drove and we looked keenly ahead, ready to sight whatever of peril lay before us.
This airboat — she had no name, only in the Hamalian way a number — carried us over the snow sheets and down past the saddle. We corkscrewed between sheer rock f
