As soon as the opening was wide enough, the rumbler moved on into asection which was again lighted. Furtig looked back; the wall started to shut even as they passed through.He gave a small sigh of relief as he saw the openingclose. At least no Ratton was coming through there!
But the rumbler no longer moved steadfastly; rather it went slower and slower, finally stopping with itsarms curled back upon its body. Now it looked—Furtig's woods-wise mind made the quick comparison—like a great black spider dying. When the nimbler ceased to move he lifted the caller to his mouth,readied his tongue. This time there was no tingling response to his probing. It must be as Foskatt hadwarned—the servant had died, if one might term it so.
There was light here, and they were in another corridor with numerous doors. Furtig hesitated for a longmoment and then dropped to the floor. Leaving Foskatt where he was, he went to the nearest opening tolook within.
The room was not empty. Most of the floor wascovered with metal boxes, firmly based. And there was an acrid smell which made him sneeze and shakehis head to banish it from his nostrils. Nothing moved, and his ears, fully alert, could not pick up theslightest sound.
He returned to the nimbler. If that could not carrythem farther, and Foskatt could not be transported,what was he to do? When he was the merest youngling,he had learned the importance of memory patterns,of learning the ways of the People's tribal huntinggrounds until those became a matter of subconsciousrecall rather than conscious thinking. But here he hadno such pattern as a guide, he had only—
Furtig scrambled up to sit beside Foskatt. Therewas one thing— If they had in truth been heading toward Gammage's headquarters when this journeybegan, he could try— He closed his eyes, set about methodically to blank out the thought of what lay immediately around him.
He must use his thoughts as if they were ears, eyes,nose, to point to what he sought. This could be done,had been done many times over, by some individualsamong the People. But Furtig had never been forcedto try it before.
He had never seen Gammage, but so well was theAncestor fixed in the mind of all who dwelt in thecaves, that he had heard him described many timesover. Now he tried to build in his mind a picture of Gammage. And, because the Ancestor was who he wasand had been to his tribe a figure of awe and wonderacross several generations, doubtless that mind picture was different from the person it represented,being greater than reality.
As he had never tried before, Furtig strove now tothink of Gammage, to discover where in the lairs hecould find this leader. So far—nothing. Perhaps hewas one of those for whom such searching did notwork. Each of the People had his own abilities, hisown weaknesses. When the People worked together,one could supply what another lacked, but here Furtig had only himself. Gammage—where was Gammage?
It was, like picking out the slightest ripple in thegrass, hearing a sound so thin and far away that it was not true sound at all but merely the alerting suggestion of it. But a warm flush of triumph heated Furtig. It was true—he had done it! That sense wouldlead him now. Lead him. He opened his eyes to lookat Foskatt.
What of Foskatt? It was plain that the other couldnot walk, nor could Furtig carry him. He could leave,return later— But perhaps that wall which hadopened and closed was not the only entrance. One dared not underrate the tenacity of the Rattons.Long before Furtig could return with help, Foskattcould be captive or dead.
Suppose that somewhere in one of these chambersalong this way he could find another of these servants,one that could be activated? It would do no harm togo and look, and it might be their only chance.
Furtig began the search. But he found himself moving slowly, needing to stop now and then to leanagainst the wall. All of a sudden, now that the excitement of their escape had died, he
But the rumbler no longer moved steadfastly; rather it went slower and slower, finally stopping with itsarms curled back upon its body. Now it looked—Furtig's woods-wise mind made the quick comparison—like a great black spider dying. When the nimbler ceased to move he lifted the caller to his mouth,readied his tongue. This time there was no tingling response to his probing. It must be as Foskatt hadwarned—the servant had died, if one might term it so.
There was light here, and they were in another corridor with numerous doors. Furtig hesitated for a longmoment and then dropped to the floor. Leaving Foskatt where he was, he went to the nearest opening tolook within.
The room was not empty. Most of the floor wascovered with metal boxes, firmly based. And there was an acrid smell which made him sneeze and shakehis head to banish it from his nostrils. Nothing moved, and his ears, fully alert, could not pick up theslightest sound.
He returned to the nimbler. If that could not carrythem farther, and Foskatt could not be transported,what was he to do? When he was the merest youngling,he had learned the importance of memory patterns,of learning the ways of the People's tribal huntinggrounds until those became a matter of subconsciousrecall rather than conscious thinking. But here he hadno such pattern as a guide, he had only—
Furtig scrambled up to sit beside Foskatt. Therewas one thing— If they had in truth been heading toward Gammage's headquarters when this journeybegan, he could try— He closed his eyes, set about methodically to blank out the thought of what lay immediately around him.
He must use his thoughts as if they were ears, eyes,nose, to point to what he sought. This could be done,had been done many times over, by some individualsamong the People. But Furtig had never been forcedto try it before.
He had never seen Gammage, but so well was theAncestor fixed in the mind of all who dwelt in thecaves, that he had heard him described many timesover. Now he tried to build in his mind a picture of Gammage. And, because the Ancestor was who he wasand had been to his tribe a figure of awe and wonderacross several generations, doubtless that mind picture was different from the person it represented,being greater than reality.
As he had never tried before, Furtig strove now tothink of Gammage, to discover where in the lairs hecould find this leader. So far—nothing. Perhaps hewas one of those for whom such searching did notwork. Each of the People had his own abilities, hisown weaknesses. When the People worked together,one could supply what another lacked, but here Furtig had only himself. Gammage—where was Gammage?
It was, like picking out the slightest ripple in thegrass, hearing a sound so thin and far away that it was not true sound at all but merely the alerting suggestion of it. But a warm flush of triumph heated Furtig. It was true—he had done it! That sense wouldlead him now. Lead him. He opened his eyes to lookat Foskatt.
What of Foskatt? It was plain that the other couldnot walk, nor could Furtig carry him. He could leave,return later— But perhaps that wall which hadopened and closed was not the only entrance. One dared not underrate the tenacity of the Rattons.Long before Furtig could return with help, Foskattcould be captive or dead.
Suppose that somewhere in one of these chambersalong this way he could find another of these servants,one that could be activated? It would do no harm togo and look, and it might be their only chance.
Furtig began the search. But he found himself moving slowly, needing to stop now and then to leanagainst the wall. All of a sudden, now that the excitement of their escape had died, he
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