of heart.
Something warm dripped on his hand. "The broth," he cautioned,
"you're spilling it."
"Oh." She leveled the bowl. "I'm sorry."
But he listened sharply at the girl. She hadn't even _heard_ the liquid running down the outside of the shell. It was as though she were practically deaf!
Improvising a test, he whispered almost subvocally, "What kind of broth is this?"
There was no response. She had no fine hearing at all! Yet, after the formal dinner, she had heard well enough to use as a target the swirling fluidity of a pool so small and so silent that he hadn't even been aware of its presence.
She put the bowl on a nearby shelf and extended the object in her other hand. "What do you think of this, Jared?"
He inspected the thing. Clinging to it was the scent of the monster. It was tubular, like a manna stalk, but cut off on both ends. The smooth face of the larger end, however, was shattered. He ran a finger into the break and felt a hard, round object within. Withdrawing his finger, he cut it against something sharp.
"What
is
it?"
"I don't know. I found it at the entrance. I'm sure one of the monsters dropped it."
Again he felt the round thing behind the broken surface. It reminded him of--something.
"The big end was--warm when I picked it up," she disclosed.
He cast his ears warily on the girl. Why had she hesitated before the word "warm"? Did she know it was heat that Zivvers zivved? Was she furtively bringing up the subject so she could hear his reaction--perhaps even trying to test the Adviser's insinuation that he might be a Zivver? If that was her intention, it was well hidden.
Then he jolted erect. _Now_ he remembered what the round object in the broken end of the tube reminded him of! It was a miniature version of the Holy Bulb used during religious services!
And he shook his head in bewilderment. What sense did _that_ fool paradox make? Wasn't the Holy Bulb associated with Light--with goodness and virtue--rather than with hideous, evil monsters?
His remaining periods in the Upper Level were uneventful to the point of monotony. He found the people not at all friendly. Their experience with the monsters had left them apprehensive and distant.
More than once his words had gone unheard while quickened heartbeats reflected lingering fear.
If it hadn't been for Della's presence, he might have returned home before his scheduled departure. As it was, though, the girl was a challenging enigma.
She stuck close by all the while. And the friendship she extended was so profuse that he often felt her hand slipping into his as she took him about the world acquainting him with the people.
On one occasion Della added to the mystery when she paused and whispered, "Jared, are you hiding something?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I'm a pretty good marksman myself, don't you think?"
"With
rocks--yes."
He
decided to nudge her on.
"And I'm the one who found that thing the monsters left behind."
"So?"
Her face was turned eagerly toward his and be studied her in the sound of the central caster. When he said nothing more, he heard her breathing become heavy with exasperation.
She turned to walk away but be caught her arm. "What do you _think_ I'm biding, Della?"
But her mood had changed. "Whether or not you've decided to Declare Unification Intentions."
That she was lying had been obvious.
Yet, throughout the final two periods she seemed to hang onto everything he said, as though his next words might be the very ones she wanted to hear. Even up to the moment of his departure her disposition was one of restrained expectancy.
They were standing by the manna orchard, with his escort party waiting at the entrance, when she said reproachfully:
"Jared, it isn't fair to hold anything back."
"Like
what?"
"Like why you can--hear so well."
"The Prime Survivor spent all his time training me to--"
"You've told me all about that," she reminded impatiently. "Jared, if we're of the
Something warm dripped on his hand. "The broth," he cautioned,
"you're spilling it."
"Oh." She leveled the bowl. "I'm sorry."
But he listened sharply at the girl. She hadn't even _heard_ the liquid running down the outside of the shell. It was as though she were practically deaf!
Improvising a test, he whispered almost subvocally, "What kind of broth is this?"
There was no response. She had no fine hearing at all! Yet, after the formal dinner, she had heard well enough to use as a target the swirling fluidity of a pool so small and so silent that he hadn't even been aware of its presence.
She put the bowl on a nearby shelf and extended the object in her other hand. "What do you think of this, Jared?"
He inspected the thing. Clinging to it was the scent of the monster. It was tubular, like a manna stalk, but cut off on both ends. The smooth face of the larger end, however, was shattered. He ran a finger into the break and felt a hard, round object within. Withdrawing his finger, he cut it against something sharp.
"What
is
it?"
"I don't know. I found it at the entrance. I'm sure one of the monsters dropped it."
Again he felt the round thing behind the broken surface. It reminded him of--something.
"The big end was--warm when I picked it up," she disclosed.
He cast his ears warily on the girl. Why had she hesitated before the word "warm"? Did she know it was heat that Zivvers zivved? Was she furtively bringing up the subject so she could hear his reaction--perhaps even trying to test the Adviser's insinuation that he might be a Zivver? If that was her intention, it was well hidden.
Then he jolted erect. _Now_ he remembered what the round object in the broken end of the tube reminded him of! It was a miniature version of the Holy Bulb used during religious services!
And he shook his head in bewilderment. What sense did _that_ fool paradox make? Wasn't the Holy Bulb associated with Light--with goodness and virtue--rather than with hideous, evil monsters?
His remaining periods in the Upper Level were uneventful to the point of monotony. He found the people not at all friendly. Their experience with the monsters had left them apprehensive and distant.
More than once his words had gone unheard while quickened heartbeats reflected lingering fear.
If it hadn't been for Della's presence, he might have returned home before his scheduled departure. As it was, though, the girl was a challenging enigma.
She stuck close by all the while. And the friendship she extended was so profuse that he often felt her hand slipping into his as she took him about the world acquainting him with the people.
On one occasion Della added to the mystery when she paused and whispered, "Jared, are you hiding something?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I'm a pretty good marksman myself, don't you think?"
"With
rocks--yes."
He
decided to nudge her on.
"And I'm the one who found that thing the monsters left behind."
"So?"
Her face was turned eagerly toward his and be studied her in the sound of the central caster. When he said nothing more, he heard her breathing become heavy with exasperation.
She turned to walk away but be caught her arm. "What do you _think_ I'm biding, Della?"
But her mood had changed. "Whether or not you've decided to Declare Unification Intentions."
That she was lying had been obvious.
Yet, throughout the final two periods she seemed to hang onto everything he said, as though his next words might be the very ones she wanted to hear. Even up to the moment of his departure her disposition was one of restrained expectancy.
They were standing by the manna orchard, with his escort party waiting at the entrance, when she said reproachfully:
"Jared, it isn't fair to hold anything back."
"Like
what?"
"Like why you can--hear so well."
"The Prime Survivor spent all his time training me to--"
"You've told me all about that," she reminded impatiently. "Jared, if we're of the
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