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Authors: Andre Norton
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wild terror long enough to discover what had happened. Or else . . . or else Maba might be lost.
Conquering, at least for this moment, his own uneasiness, Jony gazed steadily into the boy's eyes. They were fixed, staring, as if Geogee still watched something so utterly horrifying that he was caught within that moment of horror as a prisoner. Jony used his mind-touch, soothing, trying to break through the fear barrier.
The younger blinked; his mouth twitched. Jony concentrated. He was here—Geogee was not alone—they must find Maba! As he had earlier spoken emphatically, he now fed those thoughts.
Geogee's frantic grip on him was relaxing. Jony knew he was getting through. His own impatience warred with the necessary overlay of calm. While they wasted time here—what could be happening to Maba? He firmly shoved aside such thoughts; at present his task was to learn all Geogee knew.
After a time that seemed to stretch endlessly, Jony made a question of her name: “Maba—?”
Geogee loosed his hold, stood away. His face was now calm. Jony remembered the mind-controlled from the cage days, hated what he saw. But otherwise—he did not really have Geogee under full control, he had only managed to reach beyond the boy's fear as he had had to do.
“Back there,” Geogee gestured to a darker portion of the den and another opening. “We were back there . . .”
Jony wet dry lips with the tip of his tongue. To go into that darkness . . . But it had to be done. He scooped up his staff. At least he could probe shadows with that, not walk straight into disaster unprepared. His sense told him there was no enemy, no living enemy that he could recognize within these stone heaps. Yet from the heaps themselves came a strange awareness, which to him was a warning such as he had never known before.
“Back here.” Geogee was already pattering away into the dark. Jony quickly followed.
They went through two of the open spaces which had wall holes giving a small amount of light. Then Geogee halted in the third, facing what gave every appearance of a completely solid erection of stones. Yet the younger boy advanced toward this as if he saw an opening invisible to Jony.
“Maba—” Geogee reached out his hand. “She put her hand right there.” With that he forced his palm flat on the stone.
There was a dull grating sound. Under Geogee's push not only the block he touched, but those above and below moved. The boy, off-balanced, stumbled forward through the black hole now open. Jony aimed his staff. The stones were swinging back again to seal Geogee in, but they were stopped by the stout length between.
Jony heard Geogee cry out. Then he levered frantically with his shaft. The stones opened again more fully, but he could see their strength had nearly bitten through the wood.
There was no help for it, he must follow into whatever secret the wall concealed.
He groped through, heard the stones crunch behind him. Panic filled him. This was a cage, worse than those of the Big Ones; it was dark and the wall was solid. And . . . He took a single step away from the edge of this new cage. His foot did not meet a surface; there was nothing there!
With a cry Jony fell into that nothingness.
His fall was not far. Only after he landed heavily, he was on a slope down which he continued to slide, though he struck out with his staff trying to find some hold, some way of staying that slip ever downward. So intent was he on such struggles, that it was a moment or two before he realized that he was not moving over a rough stone surface which would have stripped his skin by the friction. Rather under him was soft stuff which gave at the pressure of his exploring fingers and then rose again. It was as if this strange way of traveling had been devised with maximum safeguards against injury.
Down and down, Jony had no way of judging how far this slippery passage reached.
“Geogee!” he shouted, waited for some answer.
Finally that came—thin,
Conquering, at least for this moment, his own uneasiness, Jony gazed steadily into the boy's eyes. They were fixed, staring, as if Geogee still watched something so utterly horrifying that he was caught within that moment of horror as a prisoner. Jony used his mind-touch, soothing, trying to break through the fear barrier.
The younger blinked; his mouth twitched. Jony concentrated. He was here—Geogee was not alone—they must find Maba! As he had earlier spoken emphatically, he now fed those thoughts.
Geogee's frantic grip on him was relaxing. Jony knew he was getting through. His own impatience warred with the necessary overlay of calm. While they wasted time here—what could be happening to Maba? He firmly shoved aside such thoughts; at present his task was to learn all Geogee knew.
After a time that seemed to stretch endlessly, Jony made a question of her name: “Maba—?”
Geogee loosed his hold, stood away. His face was now calm. Jony remembered the mind-controlled from the cage days, hated what he saw. But otherwise—he did not really have Geogee under full control, he had only managed to reach beyond the boy's fear as he had had to do.
“Back there,” Geogee gestured to a darker portion of the den and another opening. “We were back there . . .”
Jony wet dry lips with the tip of his tongue. To go into that darkness . . . But it had to be done. He scooped up his staff. At least he could probe shadows with that, not walk straight into disaster unprepared. His sense told him there was no enemy, no living enemy that he could recognize within these stone heaps. Yet from the heaps themselves came a strange awareness, which to him was a warning such as he had never known before.
“Back here.” Geogee was already pattering away into the dark. Jony quickly followed.
They went through two of the open spaces which had wall holes giving a small amount of light. Then Geogee halted in the third, facing what gave every appearance of a completely solid erection of stones. Yet the younger boy advanced toward this as if he saw an opening invisible to Jony.
“Maba—” Geogee reached out his hand. “She put her hand right there.” With that he forced his palm flat on the stone.
There was a dull grating sound. Under Geogee's push not only the block he touched, but those above and below moved. The boy, off-balanced, stumbled forward through the black hole now open. Jony aimed his staff. The stones were swinging back again to seal Geogee in, but they were stopped by the stout length between.
Jony heard Geogee cry out. Then he levered frantically with his shaft. The stones opened again more fully, but he could see their strength had nearly bitten through the wood.
There was no help for it, he must follow into whatever secret the wall concealed.
He groped through, heard the stones crunch behind him. Panic filled him. This was a cage, worse than those of the Big Ones; it was dark and the wall was solid. And . . . He took a single step away from the edge of this new cage. His foot did not meet a surface; there was nothing there!
With a cry Jony fell into that nothingness.
His fall was not far. Only after he landed heavily, he was on a slope down which he continued to slide, though he struck out with his staff trying to find some hold, some way of staying that slip ever downward. So intent was he on such struggles, that it was a moment or two before he realized that he was not moving over a rough stone surface which would have stripped his skin by the friction. Rather under him was soft stuff which gave at the pressure of his exploring fingers and then rose again. It was as if this strange way of traveling had been devised with maximum safeguards against injury.
Down and down, Jony had no way of judging how far this slippery passage reached.
“Geogee!” he shouted, waited for some answer.
Finally that came—thin,
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