Vistaria Has Fallen (The Vistaria Affair/Vistaria Has Fallen #1)(52)

“There’s not enough flat ground in Vistaria for bulk crops,” Nick told her as they walked around the property. “Nor is there enough people to make farming a single product viable. Vistarian farmers figured out for themselves how to farm vertically, decades before the scientists talked about micro-climates.”

He pointed to the top of the mountain. “Up that high, there are frosts. There, they will plant cherries and apple trees and other fruit. A little further down, apricots, plums and some of the hardy vegetables.” He pointed to the steep slopes lower than where they stood. “There will be coffee and lots of herbs. Down further still, pineapples, many more vegetables and spices.”

Each time he pointed, Calli picked out a terraced piece of land laid out in orderly gardens.

Nick brought his two index fingers together up in the air and traced an elongated triangle against the mountain in front of him. “There is not as much land at the top to share around, while more is given at the bottom for the crops that need room. So a framer will end up with a piece of the mountain that looks like a slice of pie.”

“A slice farm,” Calli murmured. It was a simple concept, yet practical. Practicality seemed to be the flip-side characteristic of Vistarians, offsetting a love of drama and passion in their leisure pursuits and entertainments—like the Luna festival.

Nick’s house sat on one of the middle terraces of the old farms he had acquired. They climbed to the upper levels to investigate the source of the waterfall—or at least, Calli wanted to investigate despite Nick’s assurance there was nothing to see.

After climbing the winding path for two terraces, she was breathing raggedly and her thigh and calf muscles screamed for mercy. “My God, the farmers must be bouncing with good health, climbing these things every day!”

“They’re very tough,” Nick said, grinning. He breathed easily.

“I thought I was fit!”

“You’re not at sea level, here.”

“Montana isn’t at sea level, either. You’re not even breaking sweat. I hate you.”

Nick laughed. “Army training is rigorous and thorough.”

“You’re not in the army.”

“I’ve taken every training camp, every course and every discipline they have.” He headed for the rocks that hid the top of the waterfall from sight.

“Why would you do that?” Calli asked, scrambling to catch up with him despite the burn in her quadriceps.

“So that every soldier knows the training they receive is a valuable thing and that civilians, even their leaders, desire it.”

She watched him climbing from rock to rock. “I bet you were good at it, too.”

He paused and waited for her to catch up with him. “I had to be. The brother of the President of the nation could not fail. It would not inspire confidence in the Escobedos.”

No wonder soldiers like Duardo admired him and officers obeyed his orders without question. He had proven himself to them over and over again.

She reached the rock he stood on and he turned her towards the north. “See, the stream comes from much further up the mountainside. You can trace it back to its source. From here the only way to do that would be to walk alongside the water.”

“That’s bad?”

“Water takes the steepest course down a mountain side.” He grinned. “Basic mountain climbing training. Don’t follow water courses. Up or down.”

“My knees are ready to give in, so I’ll listen to you this time. Can I see the waterfall itself?”

“I can do better than that,” Nick said. “Let’s go back.” He helped her down the rocks and they headed toward the house. This time Calli knew her legs would give out on her. She’d never thought going down a mountain would need more muscles and control than going up. It felt like she was leaning backwards, every muscle clenched so gravity wouldn’t pull her down the slope.

When they reached the terrace where the house sat, she was sweating and her breath came as raggedly as when she had made the ascent. Nick, of course, still strolled as if it were a Sunday in the park.

The idea of falling, cool water was delightful, although when they arrived at the foot of the falls, Nick picked up her hand and tugged it. “This way.”

“But...!”

“Trust me.” He led her around the bend of the creek, where it hugged the stone outcropping and bent north. The path sloped to follow the course of the water.

“More downhill? And following water?”

Nick looked over his shoulder. “It’s worth it.”

There were rough stairs cut into the bank. She followed Nick down the steps. A dozen of the broad steps curved around the base of the waterfall, down to a flat, round apron of close-cut turf edged by rocks, unkempt grasses and bushes. On the left, the rushing stream tumbled over a ten-foot drop of rounded rocks into a deep, large pool. The water was crystal clear.

The pool had no edge.

Calli looked at it sparkling in the sunlight. There was no bank. She was looking at the edge of another small waterfall. The water slid over the edge without ripple or spray, creating the illusion that the water held itself there.

“Can I go wading?” Calli asked, swallowing with her dry throat, her toes tingling as she imagined the touch of the cool water.

“It’s much deeper than you think.”