What bothered her most was the sight of a couple of the ghost-gray vines, perhaps as thick as two fingers together^ looped directly across the hacked way. They looked as if they had had days to re-establish themselves, although they could only have had hours.
Slipping her hands into the suit gloves, making sure her flesh was well covered. Ayana reached out and jerked at the stalks. They broke easily, showing hollow stems from which spurted thin streams of reddish liquid. But the noisome smell of rot made her gag.
Broken, the vines visibly shriveled, wilted back against the mass from which they had trailed. Ayana forced herself into the path.
Her boots sank a little at each step into a muck which gave off putrid puffs. Soon, unable to take that continued assault on her nostrils, she stopped to draw up her face mask. What this place had been she could not guess. But the eroded partitions showing here and there were pillars which must have once supported a roof. The hacked way was several times barred by vines she had to snap. There was no difficulty doing that; they offered no resistance. Except that Ayana had such a horror of touching them, even with gloved hands, that she had to force herself to the act each time.
So she reached the center of this horror garden, if garden it had been. There was a wide, square opening in the ground. Oddly enough, none of the vegetation crowded near that hole, or door. For it was not a chance opening. Around it was a band of stone over which none of the vines hung.
The signal was—down! But how? Ayana shone her hand lamp into the hole. Flashing here and there showed her a room, or perhaps a section of corridor. And the floor was not too far below. If she hung by her hands, with her suit inflated for a landing, she could make it. Again it would seem she had no choice.
Ayana landed. When she got to her feet, swinging the lamp around, she saw that this was a small chamber with a door in only one wall—that way—
What had Tan—Jacel—been hunting which had brought them here? To her it had more and more the smell of a trap. But it had been Jacel who had beamed that help call, and he would not have urged either Massa or her into danger. Or, could one depend on Jacel’s reactions any more?
In the underground ways the beep was even louder, more persistent than it had been above. By all indications she was close to what she sought. There was no turning back—
Ayana held the lamp in one hand, her stunner ready in the other as she went on. Then she stiffened, stood very still, listening.
Sound ahead, but not a call of her kind, or the tread of one walking in protect boots, but rather a swishing noise. She longed to call out, to be reassured by a human voice that one of those she hunted were there. But fear kept her dumb. It needed all her will power to force her ahead.
A crosswise passage— At her belt the beep was a continuous note. She was close to its source. To her right, along that sideway …
“Ayana!”
Jacel! Her lips, her mouth were so dried she could not produce more than a hoarse croak in return. But she began to run, turned right. And there was light ahead.
Furtig sat by the stream from the spring. The morning was going to be fair. He sniffed the air, good smells. He had not realized how few good smells there were in the lairs. Oh, there were those places where things grew, but those seemed different, even if they were plants. It was as if they had never been the same as those of the wilds, or else that far back, like the People, they had been somehow changed. He feasted eye and nose now on what was familiar arid right, and had not been wrought upon by any Demon knowledge.
It was a promising morning—outwardly. But of what it promised for his mission here there was no hint. None of the Elders, or even the younger warriors, had spoken after the withdrawal of the Choosers. Furtig thought that a bad sign. His people were normally curious. If they did not ask questions about the weapons or the lairs, such silence seemed hostile.
“A good day—“ Foskatt came down the slope. He had spent the night in the outer part of the cave of his own family line. Now he squatted on his heels by the water, running the fingers of one hand back and forth across the scar of his healed wound as if that still itched a little.
“Any talk?” he asked.
“Not so. It was as if I had come from a hunt only, and an unsuccessful one at that,” Furtig growled.
“With me the same. But do not forget that Liliha argued well for us. If she convinced the Choosers—“
Furtig gave a hiss of irritation, though he knew that Foskatt spoke the truth. It was the Choosers who ruled when it came to the point of safety for the full clan.
“Ssss—warriors who greet the dawn!” Both their heads turned swiftly.
Eu-La stood, her hands on her slender hips, her tail switching gently, evoking an answering whisper from the dry grasses it brushed. She was smaller than Liliha, but her body was well rounded. Yes, she was close to the season when it would be her turn to sit high on the Choosing ledge and watch warriors contend for her favor.
“We are not the only ones early astir,” Furtig answered. “What brings the cave sister from her sleeping nest?”
“Dreams—dreams and wishes—“ Suddenly she flung wide her arms, holding high her hands to the sky. “Long have I dreamed, and wished, and now it seems that I shall walk into the full of my dreams, have my wishes—“
“Those being?” Foskatt’s question rumbled hoarsely.
“That I go to Gammage, that I learn more than can be learned in these caves—that I can use these, my hands, for greater things than I do here!” Now she held her hands before her face, flexing her fingers. These were not as long as Liliha’s, but neither were they as closely stubbed as those of many of her sisters. “If the clans decide to go or not, still I travel with you, cave brother.” She looked to Furtig. “I have spoken to Liliha and she has agreed. It is my right as much as any warrior’s to go to Gammage!”
“True,” Furtig had to agree. She was correct. If she longed for what the lairs had to offer, then she could profit by what she could learn there.
Perhaps this was another way out. Perhaps even if the Elders held back those of the clans who were bound by custom, there would be those, among the younger ones, who would go to Gammage and so swell even by a few the force within the lairs.
It was as if Eu-La could read his thought at that moment, for after she jumped lightly down beside them and leaned forward, about to lap daintily from the free-flowing water, she glanced up to add: “But I think that the Elders of the Choosers will have made up their minds soon. There was talk in the second cave last night. When it comes to the safety of younglings, then they listen well. And Liliha answered many more questions in the dark hours. Do not believe you have failed until you are told so.”
She dabbled in the water, flicking droplets here and there like a youngling playing. But Furtig, watching her, was reminded again of Fas-Tan, who acted as one alone even when she knew well that warriors watched her longingly. Again he saw on Foskatt’s face that same intent look he had seen the night before.
For a moment a growl rumbled deep in Furtig’s throat. Eu-La, he had known Eu-La for a long time. It was she who had encouraged him before he went to Gammage. Eu-La was very precious. But if Eu-La were at this moment a Chooser and looked at him, Furtig, would he rejoice?
The turn of his thoughts surprised him almost as much as Foskatt’s reaction to Eu-La had done. Eu-La choosing him? He liked her much, but not, he realized, as Foskatt did. He would fight for her in one way, to protect her against harm. But he would not strive to win her Choosing favor. That was not how he thought of Eu-La.
When he thought of a Chooser— Sternly Furtig tried to order those straying thoughts. There was no more chance of that than there had been in the other days of winning Fas-Tan’s favor. Not all warriors won even the passing interest of a Chooser. And they lived and did as they had to—though many became far rovers without clans.