They lay together in the small space the meeting of three ducts provided. Furtig could hear Ku-La’s harsh gasping and knew, without need for confirmation, that Ku-La had come to the end of his strength. Yet he himself found that he could not just crawl on and leave the other to die in this hole. That drag upon him produced a dull anger in him.
It was Ku-La who spoke first, his voice a thread of sound which Furtig had to listen to well to hear at all.
“No-farther—“
So he was accepting defeat. Furtig should now feel relief. It was as if Ku-La had accepted the inevitable, laid his throat open to the mercy claws. But he spoke again, and this time he asked a question which surprised Furtig, for he believed Ku-La sunk in his own misery.
“What seek you?”
“Knowledge.” Furtig answered with the truth. “The hidden knowledge of the Demons.”
“So—also—“ came the whisper. “I—found—before I—was-taken—“
Furtig, startled, rolled over, trying to see the other in the dark. Only Gammage’s clan combed the lairs for knowledge. Yet this stranger spoke with certainty.
“Records?” Furtig demanded. He could accept that Ku-La prowled perhaps hunting a superior weapon. But certainly he could know nothing of the tapes Gammage wanted.
“Demon knowledge.” Ku-La’s whisper was a little stronger, as if the necessity for communication actually produced strength to aid him. “They kept records—in rolls of—tape. Our people know this. You put them in—“ His whisper died away.
But Gammage and his people were the only ones who had learned that, who studied such. Yet Ku-La spoke as one who had used such tapes. Furtig had to know more. Putting out a hand, he touched the other’s shoulder, only to feel Ku-La wince with a gasp of pain.
“How do you know this?” Furtig demanded sharply.
“—live in lairs—to the east—lairs very large. We hunt knowledge—“
Another clan such as Gammage’s, busy at the same task on the far side of the lairs? But it was not possible. As Ku-La had said, the lairs were large. But that they had not had contact—that hinted that Ku-La’s people may have been hiding with no good intent. Had he brought out of the Rattons’ claws one who was as much an enemy as a Barker or one of the evil-smelling runners in dark ways?
“Came from a smaller lair—found knowledge there which brought us hunting here—“ Ku-La continued that thread of tortured sound, bending his strength to an explanation. “We have old story—lived—with—Demons until they died—then learned—“
Could it be that elsewhere the Last Days had been different? That dying Demons had not turned upon Ku-La’s tribe as they had so mercilessly here? Furtig decided that such history was possible. And if that were so, surely Ku-La’s people had a head start on Demon discoveries. Yet they had come here seeking knowledge—which made Gammage’s need doubly important.
Ku-La said he had found what he sought just be-fore the Rations had taken him! Which meant that a cache was either in Ratton territory or close enough for them to patrol there. Was that cache the one Foskatt had been aiming for?
“Where is this place of tapes?”
“There is a hall where stand many of those things like the one which broke down the wall.” Ku-La’s voice was steadier, even a little stronger, as if fixing his mind upon his search had drawn him a little out of his present misery. “On the wall facing the door of that—there is a space there as if one had set his hand into it. Into that you must put a light—Then it opens—“ His whisper ended with a sigh. Though Furtig shook the other’s shoulder there was no flinching or answer.
Was Kil-La dead? Furtig fumbled for the other’s head, held his fingers over the half-open mouth. No, there was breath coming. But he did not believe he could get any more directions. This chamber—where would he find it? He had better advance in the general direction suggested by Foskatt. But in any case he could linger here no longer.
Furtig dropped his head on his crooked arm and thought of the face of Foskatt. Then in his mind he retraced his passage along the ducts, concentrating hardest on the present point. He had no assurance his message was received, but it was the best he could do. Unlatching his container of water, he pushed it under one of Ku-La’s limp hands. Then he scrambled into the duct at his right to continue his journey.
As he rounded a turn, he saw again the faint slits which could only be gratings. He hurried from one to the next. The chambers he saw were piled high with boxes and containers—as if they were part of a vast storehouse in which the Demons had laid up treasures. Furtig had no idea of their contents. It would take seasons and seasons—even if Gammage realized his impossible dream and united the many tribes of the People—to explore this place.
So much of what had already been discovered was not understood, for all the prying and study of those best qualified among the In-born. If they were given time and peace—what could they learn?
The sight of all that piled below had the effect on Furtig that a clean, newly made track might have on a hunter. His fingers twitched with the desire to swing down, to claw open this or that shadowed container. But this was not what he had been sent to find. He forced himself past those tantalizing displays.
With a shock he realized that the last grating gave him a new view. He pushed close to the grill to assess what he saw. Machines—lines of those strange willing-unwilling servants lined up. And a single door at floor level. Ku-La’s tale—had he found by chance the very storage place the other sought? But this could not be Foskatt’s cache, unless the vague description he had caught varied in details.
In the dim light Furtig could not see any such space in the wall as Ku-La had described. He used his nose as well as his eyes and ears. The usual smell of these burrows—no taint of Ratton. If this was the chamber of Ku-La’s story, there was no enemy guard. Dared he pass up the chance to prove or disprove what the stranger scout had said?
If Ku-La’s people had had a longer association with the Demons, a knowledge exceeding the hard-won bits and scraps Gammage had unearthed, than any cache the other had come to find might well be superior to that listed for Furtig. He must put it to the proof!
Once more he loosened a grating, used his cord to drop to the floor below. But before he sought the end of the room, he went to the door. That barrier was shut and he wished to barricade it—but saw nothing large enough to use. He could only hope that the Rat-tons might betray their arrival by the noise of their coming, their rank scent.
Furtig hurried to the wall Ku-La had spoken of. And he was really not surprised to find just such a depression as had been described. It was high up; Furtig had to scratch above eye level to fit his hand into it.
What had Ku-La said—light— What light? Furtig leaned against the wall to consider the problem. Light —the Demon weapon spat lightning— He had nothing else, and he was firmly determined to force this door if he could.
Furtig drew the weapon. Dolar had drilled him in the charge of force it would spit. The wave of fire which answered was governed by the turning of a small bar on the butt. He could set that as low as it would go—
Having done so, Furtig put the mouth of the barrel to the depression. More than a little nervous to be using forces he did not understand, he pressed the firing button.
There was an answering glow reflected back from the cup. Then, slowly, with a dull rasping sound, as if something which had been a long time sealed was being forced, the wall split open. It did not crumble as had the wall in that other chamber when the nimbler had battered it, but parted evenly, as if slashed carefully by claw tip. Furtig uttered a small purr of triumph.
But he had prudence enough not to enter a place with a door that might close and entrap him. His inbred caution warred with curiosity, and caution won to make him take what precautions he could.
Though the door remained open, Furtig turned to the machines in rows behind him. The one which had rescued them had traveled easily enough. Even if none of these were alive, could one not be pushed for-ward? He darted down the nearest line, trying to find one small enough to be managed. And finally, though there did not seem to be much choice as to size, he singled one out and began to pull and shove.