Jumping might not have been the brightest notion, but the caravan master hadn’t liked the idea of doing exactly what an intruder was ex- pected to do.
The concealed room had an underwater ambiance which wasn’t wholly an effect of the glowing sea urchin trundling across an invisible bottom at waist height The mauve light had ripples in it, but neither the furniture nor the two men cast distinct shadows on the walls.
“What does your”-Samlor said, making a left-handed gesture to indi- cate either Khamwas’s staff or nothing at all-“your fnend say about what you’re looking for9”
“That I’ve found it,” Khamwas replied, turning his head to view sur- roundings which were no less void on this perusal than on earlier ones.
Samlor stamped his foot. Sparkling dust quivered, but the concrete was as solid as the bedrock on which it was probably laid. Then he kicked the nearest wall
Stucco blasted away from the hobnails as they raked four short, paral- lel paths and squealed on the stone beneath.
“Well, I think we know where t’ look,” said the Cirdonian in satisfac- tion.
The stucco his boot had scraped was covering two distinct blocks of stone-a slab of polished red granite, and another of marble shadowed with faint streaks of gray. Both stones were inscribed, though on the softer marble the markings had been weathered and were further defaced by Samlor’s boot
He brushed at the stucco with his left hand, flaking away a patch his kick had loosened The writing on the granite slab was Rankan but of a form so old that the doubled consonants and vanant orthography made all but a few words unintelligible to the caravan master