don’t care what Fatsy said. I got to have that rock.”
“It would be better just to leave it alone. You’d never make it out of Chthon. That gem is death.”
Framy turned on him fiercely. “You want me to leave it so’s you can take it yourself. You want to get out worse’n anybody. I know you—”
Aton stared him down.
“I’m sorry, pal,” the little man said. “I know you wouldn’t do nothing like that. But look—I just got to have it. I got to.”
Aton said nothing.
“Look,” Framy began again, desperately. “It ain’t like I was a criminal like everyone else here. I don’t mean nothing against you, Fiver. I don’t know what you done. But I was framed. It ain’t right I should be down here. I got to get out.”
You fool, Aton thought, don’t you know that you are better off here than you could ever be outside? Your own mind has framed you into suicide.
Seeing his companion still deep in thought, Framy spoke more rapidly. “It ain’t as if—ain’t like anybody’d know I had it. I’d hide it in the skin ‘til I had a chance to smuggle out a message. Tally, upstairs, wouldn’t cheat—”
Would you offer your heart to the chimera? thought Aton.
Aton came to a decision. “All right. Who’s going to fetch it?”
It was a good question. They huddled against the wall near the bend, increasingly aware of the enormous heat rushing by, knowing how much worse it would be on the other side of the water-drip. Already their drinking supply was low. It would take a strong man to reach the garnet and return.
But Framy was undismayed. “That’s why I needed you,” he admitted. “I’da told you anyway, Five pal, but—I figured it I run for it I can make it to the stone. But in case I don’t make it, I got to have someone to pull me back. Remember, I done you a favor—”
You should not have done that favor. The wage of carelessness is death.
“I think I’ve heard that reasoning before,” Aton said. “But if you’re fool enough to try it, I’m fool enough to haul you back. We’d better get on with it before we fry.”
“Thanks, pal,” Framy said simply. He plunged ahead immediately with a bravery that belied his reputation. Aton saw him rocked back against the wall by the hot gust. Framy shielded his face with a forearm and forced his way onward. He was out of the full current, driving along the side wall, but his progress was still agonizingly slow. He was leaning forward against the pressure, feet placed and braced most carefully. The skin of his arm reddened with the heat.
At length he reached the edge of the far tunnel. Here the draft abated, missing the small pocket formed by the projecting rock surrounding the opening. But Aton knew that the channeled flow would be ferocious directly in front of the tunnel. That was where the garnet sat, trapped in a minor declivity. It must have rolled there from the room beyond, perhaps many years ago.
Framy put a tentative hand out into the blast and withdrew it quickly. Here it was really hot. The drops from the ceiling vanished into the wind several feet below this spot. Then, gathering himself for a final effort, Framy dived for the garnet.
Aton saw the man’s body caught by the current and hurled sideways. He felt the terrible pain. But one hand was on the garnet, gripping it tightly. Framy had his blue ticket to destruction.
He rolled with the wind and struggled to pull himself out of it, into the shelter to the side. But his efforts were weak, haphazard, disorganized by pain; soon they ceased altogether. He was unconscious, and would soon be dead.
Aton charged into the room. He too was caught by the power of the air and tossed back against the nearer wall. He dropped to hands and knees, ducked his head behind his shoulder, inched toward the prone figure. He knees skidded against the smooth surface as the center stream took hold. It was hard to breathe.
Aton lowered himself to his belly and heaved forward. He no longer tried
“It would be better just to leave it alone. You’d never make it out of Chthon. That gem is death.”
Framy turned on him fiercely. “You want me to leave it so’s you can take it yourself. You want to get out worse’n anybody. I know you—”
Aton stared him down.
“I’m sorry, pal,” the little man said. “I know you wouldn’t do nothing like that. But look—I just got to have it. I got to.”
Aton said nothing.
“Look,” Framy began again, desperately. “It ain’t like I was a criminal like everyone else here. I don’t mean nothing against you, Fiver. I don’t know what you done. But I was framed. It ain’t right I should be down here. I got to get out.”
You fool, Aton thought, don’t you know that you are better off here than you could ever be outside? Your own mind has framed you into suicide.
Seeing his companion still deep in thought, Framy spoke more rapidly. “It ain’t as if—ain’t like anybody’d know I had it. I’d hide it in the skin ‘til I had a chance to smuggle out a message. Tally, upstairs, wouldn’t cheat—”
Would you offer your heart to the chimera? thought Aton.
Aton came to a decision. “All right. Who’s going to fetch it?”
It was a good question. They huddled against the wall near the bend, increasingly aware of the enormous heat rushing by, knowing how much worse it would be on the other side of the water-drip. Already their drinking supply was low. It would take a strong man to reach the garnet and return.
But Framy was undismayed. “That’s why I needed you,” he admitted. “I’da told you anyway, Five pal, but—I figured it I run for it I can make it to the stone. But in case I don’t make it, I got to have someone to pull me back. Remember, I done you a favor—”
You should not have done that favor. The wage of carelessness is death.
“I think I’ve heard that reasoning before,” Aton said. “But if you’re fool enough to try it, I’m fool enough to haul you back. We’d better get on with it before we fry.”
“Thanks, pal,” Framy said simply. He plunged ahead immediately with a bravery that belied his reputation. Aton saw him rocked back against the wall by the hot gust. Framy shielded his face with a forearm and forced his way onward. He was out of the full current, driving along the side wall, but his progress was still agonizingly slow. He was leaning forward against the pressure, feet placed and braced most carefully. The skin of his arm reddened with the heat.
At length he reached the edge of the far tunnel. Here the draft abated, missing the small pocket formed by the projecting rock surrounding the opening. But Aton knew that the channeled flow would be ferocious directly in front of the tunnel. That was where the garnet sat, trapped in a minor declivity. It must have rolled there from the room beyond, perhaps many years ago.
Framy put a tentative hand out into the blast and withdrew it quickly. Here it was really hot. The drops from the ceiling vanished into the wind several feet below this spot. Then, gathering himself for a final effort, Framy dived for the garnet.
Aton saw the man’s body caught by the current and hurled sideways. He felt the terrible pain. But one hand was on the garnet, gripping it tightly. Framy had his blue ticket to destruction.
He rolled with the wind and struggled to pull himself out of it, into the shelter to the side. But his efforts were weak, haphazard, disorganized by pain; soon they ceased altogether. He was unconscious, and would soon be dead.
Aton charged into the room. He too was caught by the power of the air and tossed back against the nearer wall. He dropped to hands and knees, ducked his head behind his shoulder, inched toward the prone figure. He knees skidded against the smooth surface as the center stream took hold. It was hard to breathe.
Aton lowered himself to his belly and heaved forward. He no longer tried
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