unthinking fashion. Who could guess what they might meet within those dens now so shadow filled? His own experience with the stone woman—he had no explanation for that. And there could be other traps, or dangers which were totally foreign to everything they knew.
Jony's rush took him past the first of the dens, those which were smaller. He made himself slow down. This was a time to use questing thought, not to rush blindly about accomplishing nothing in the dusk.
At once he was able to pick up Geogee again. With that touch came fear, naked and sharp—Geogee was afraid. If he, Jony, could not compel, surely he could call the other; use mind-linkage as a guide through this place of unknown dangers.
“Geogee!” He built in his mind as strong a picture of the boy as he could hold. “Geogee, where are you?”
Fear built a barrier. Geogee was so torn by terror he was not thinking in any clear pattern Jony could pick up and analyze. Communication came as distorted jolts like blows, aimed out wildly in every direction.
Jony could not maintain rational contact, but he could use that center of disturbance itself as a guide. This Jony probed grimly, held to what he could discover. The way took him, not back to the vast pile where the stone woman and the sleeper in the rock waited, but down one of the smaller side streams of stone which was much narrower. Here the piles on either side appeared to lean out above him, as if at any moment they might free themselves into individual blocks and crash down to blot him out.
Jony had to conquer his own growing uneasiness in order to hold to that center of mental disturbance which marked Geogee. He drew closer with every stride, at least he was sure of that much. Then—his head turned, as if jerked, to the right. In there!
As all the other holes, the one beside him had no barrier, nor did any stone figure stand there in welcome or dismissal. Within it was quite dark. For the first time Jony raised his voice:
“Geogee!”
The boy's name echoed hollowly, until Jony was almost sorry he had called. However, in answer, something scuttled from an inner section of the pile, threw itself frantically at Jony, head burrowing against him, thin arms in an imprisoning grip about his middle.
Geogee was shaking so much that his sudden onslaught nearly upset Jony in return. Though the older boy still held tightly to his staff, he dropped his other arm about Geogee's shoulders, holding him in a tight answering grasp. When that shivering seemed to lessen a little, Jony spoke again:
“Geogee,” he repeated the name quietly and firmly, hoping to break through that terror which manifestly filled the other, get from him a necessary answer. “Geogee, where is Maba?”
Geogee gave a little cry. Nor would he even look up at Jony. Rather he rubbed his face more strongly against Jony's breast.
Jony held onto his calm as best he could. He must break through, learn what had happened so he could find the girl.
“Where . . . is . . . Maba?” He spoke very slowly and evenly, spacing his words with all the impact he could summon.
Geogee gave a kind of wail, but he did answer. “The wall took her. It swallowed her up!”
FIVE
Whatever had happened, Jony realized, Geogee believed what he had just said was true. But—a wall which swallowed?
Jony himself gulped down his fear as best he could. He wanted nothing so much as to run with Geogee, get free of this place which, taking on the evil memories of the cages in the dusk, was far more alarming than any trap. Only—there was Maba. He could not leave her here. Instead he must get Geogee quieted enough to make better sense.
He caught the braid of the boy's hair in a firm hand, exerting enough pull on it to bring Geogee away from him so he could view the twin's convulsed face in what small light was here. Rutee had made him promise—never use the control.
But Rutee could not have foreseen this situation. Jony must free Geogee from the clutch of his
Jony's rush took him past the first of the dens, those which were smaller. He made himself slow down. This was a time to use questing thought, not to rush blindly about accomplishing nothing in the dusk.
At once he was able to pick up Geogee again. With that touch came fear, naked and sharp—Geogee was afraid. If he, Jony, could not compel, surely he could call the other; use mind-linkage as a guide through this place of unknown dangers.
“Geogee!” He built in his mind as strong a picture of the boy as he could hold. “Geogee, where are you?”
Fear built a barrier. Geogee was so torn by terror he was not thinking in any clear pattern Jony could pick up and analyze. Communication came as distorted jolts like blows, aimed out wildly in every direction.
Jony could not maintain rational contact, but he could use that center of disturbance itself as a guide. This Jony probed grimly, held to what he could discover. The way took him, not back to the vast pile where the stone woman and the sleeper in the rock waited, but down one of the smaller side streams of stone which was much narrower. Here the piles on either side appeared to lean out above him, as if at any moment they might free themselves into individual blocks and crash down to blot him out.
Jony had to conquer his own growing uneasiness in order to hold to that center of mental disturbance which marked Geogee. He drew closer with every stride, at least he was sure of that much. Then—his head turned, as if jerked, to the right. In there!
As all the other holes, the one beside him had no barrier, nor did any stone figure stand there in welcome or dismissal. Within it was quite dark. For the first time Jony raised his voice:
“Geogee!”
The boy's name echoed hollowly, until Jony was almost sorry he had called. However, in answer, something scuttled from an inner section of the pile, threw itself frantically at Jony, head burrowing against him, thin arms in an imprisoning grip about his middle.
Geogee was shaking so much that his sudden onslaught nearly upset Jony in return. Though the older boy still held tightly to his staff, he dropped his other arm about Geogee's shoulders, holding him in a tight answering grasp. When that shivering seemed to lessen a little, Jony spoke again:
“Geogee,” he repeated the name quietly and firmly, hoping to break through that terror which manifestly filled the other, get from him a necessary answer. “Geogee, where is Maba?”
Geogee gave a little cry. Nor would he even look up at Jony. Rather he rubbed his face more strongly against Jony's breast.
Jony held onto his calm as best he could. He must break through, learn what had happened so he could find the girl.
“Where . . . is . . . Maba?” He spoke very slowly and evenly, spacing his words with all the impact he could summon.
Geogee gave a kind of wail, but he did answer. “The wall took her. It swallowed her up!”
FIVE
Whatever had happened, Jony realized, Geogee believed what he had just said was true. But—a wall which swallowed?
Jony himself gulped down his fear as best he could. He wanted nothing so much as to run with Geogee, get free of this place which, taking on the evil memories of the cages in the dusk, was far more alarming than any trap. Only—there was Maba. He could not leave her here. Instead he must get Geogee quieted enough to make better sense.
He caught the braid of the boy's hair in a firm hand, exerting enough pull on it to bring Geogee away from him so he could view the twin's convulsed face in what small light was here. Rutee had made him promise—never use the control.
But Rutee could not have foreseen this situation. Jony must free Geogee from the clutch of his
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