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"You'd think there'd be handrails or something," Ichem said sarcastically.
"Blind does not mean infirm. Or had you not noticed that?" Lorell rumbled. The taran woman gave Ichem what could be generously described as a scathing look, but without eyes the effect just wasn't the same.
"I wasn't implying your people were infirm, but this just seems dangerous."
Lorell laughed, a deep hearty laugh, "These are the Cerulean Peaks, Ichem, the most holy of places to the taran. Raised to the sky by Zenia herself, and set aside for my people. Safety is not guaranteed."
Ichem sighed, the rhetoric of the old gods still held sway with some people and while there was no disputing that the gods had been powerful there were issues with their stories in the aftermath of the Fall. "Fine, fine," he said placatingly, "but a rope or a rail would have been nice, for the non-taran visitors. I'm one misstep from a ten thousand pace drop."
"Here, tie this to yourself and to my belt if you are so afraid." Lorell handed him a length of rope.
"How gracious ..." Ichem tied the rope around his waist and the other end to the thick belt Lorell wore. He felt silly, but silly was better than a very long drop. "So, what makes you think the tribes up here have one of the old gates to Elanehtar?"
"Because these mountains are a holy place given to us by Zenia, we were he chose people."
"That seems speculative at best, but since I don't have a better idea ... lead on."
Lorell grunted and stepped out onto the ribbon-like bridge to the next floating section of mountain.