“We have used the computer to reckon the coordinates which you sent us,” he said. Perhaps Yasa’s recognition of the need for bargaining satisfied Sreng. “There is a possible mapping. What do you do now?”
Yasa looked to Ziantha. “We shall search—“
Ziantha’s hands tightened on the box she held. She knew what Yasa meant, but she mistrusted her own powers for this; she was not trained to it. What if she could not deliver? Did this Sreng have some sensitive of his own who would then take over? But that would mean relinquishing the box’s contents to another, and she believed that Yasa would consent to that only on direst necessity.
The technique of such a search was age old, known to every sensitive. But not all had the talent to use it effectively. And, while she knew it had been applied to planet maps, could it be so used on a star map? She hoped that Yasa did not expect too much, and that they might lose advantage to this veep because she, Ziantha, could not search.
“We need rest, a little,” Yasa said now with a certain note of authority in her voice which argued that she considered herself, even in Waystar, to be also a veep whose well-being was to be reckoned on.
“Your desire is my wish—“ He made a mockery of that formal reply. “SSssfani will show you to quarters, which, though most rough compared to your own holding, gentle fem, are unfortunately the best we can offer. When you are ready, you have only to send word and we shall to work.”
The Wyvern led them farther along the same corridor to a chamber furnished with the same looted jumble. When he had departed Yasa turned briskly to the girl.
“Rest you well, cubling. It now lies on you—“ As she spoke her hands moved under the edge of her shoulder scarf in a complicated pattern. Ziantha read the signals.
Snooper rays! Of course in such a place as this those were to be suspected. She probably dared not even try mind-touch—they would be surrounded by more than one type of detect.
“I shall do my best, Lady.” She settled on an eazi-rest, which adjusted to her comfort more smoothly than she expected from its battered appearance. Yasa had gone to the food server on the wall and was fingering the dial as she read its code. She sniffed.
“Limited, but at least it will keep life in our bodies—all synthetics. Not much better than E-rations.” She seemed only too willing to give her opinion, especially if their host was listening.
Ziantha made do with the tube of concentrate which was Yasa’s selection. It was highly nourishing, she knew, even if there was a flatness of taste. She lay back in the eazi-rest. One part of her dreaded the coming test; another wanted it to happen as soon as possible, to learn if it would be success or failure. But here she must follow Yasa’s lead. She was supposed to be resting, though her anticipation would not allow that.
There was something else. As she lay back and closed her eyes, clearing her mind, building up her psychic energy, she was aware of a—stirring. In no other way could she describe that odd, disquieting feeling that nibbled at the edge of her inner awareness.
A little alarmed, Ziantha concentrated on that area of faint disturbance. The sensation came and went like the lightest of nudges. Now she was sure that it was not born from some layer of her own subconscious. She was being scanned! Though the touch was so faint she could not hope to trace it.
But perhaps Sreng had a sensitive trying her. Only this—Ziantha could not push away the thought that that touch was not trying to gauge her strength of talent — It was—
Confused, she raised her defenses. What had she sensed in that moment or two? Mind-touch. However not with the force she expected from a test. Rather as if some questing net had been thrown over Waystar, or this portion of it, merely to see if there was another sensitive within range.
Ziantha tried to be logical. Sreng would have known in advance who and what she was. Yasa would have made no secret of it. This could be some rival of the veep, intent on gaining knowledge—it could be a Guild representative checking on Yasa. Whoever it was, she believed it the enemy.
But she had so little to give Yasa in confirmation of what she had felt. Best keep quiet until she was entirely sure that she had been touched. Only, keep her own defenses up from now on.
The girl was still on the alert when they returned to Sreng’s crowded room, where there was now a difference. Some of the furniture had been ruthlessly cleared away to make room for a table on which was spread a star map. To Ziantha it had little meaning, since she was no astrogator. But that would argue in her behalf if she received any message from the artifact. Concentrating on the lump, even as she unboxed and held it between her hands, she moved it out to hold over the map, beginning a slow progress from left corner to right. So far there was nothing in return.
She had covered nearly three quarters of the map when there was a change. It was as if the lump warmed to life. From it came a sharp mental picture, so very clear that she felt as if what she saw existed, that she could reach out and touch a rock, a wind-blown bush!
“Rocks—“ she spoke without knowing she did so until she heard her own voice. “There are trees, a road—yes, a road—it leads to — No!” She might have hurled the lump from her at that moment, but it was as if her own flesh were fastened to its surface and she could not free herself from that touch any more than she could free herself from the cloud of terror that entrapped her, until that was all the world and there was nothing else. She thought she screamed—cried for help!
The cloak of fear fell away, leaving her sobbing, so shaken she was weak and would have fallen had Yasa not supported her.
“Death—death! Death in the dark. In the tomb with Turan—death!”
Who was Turan? Now she could not remember. She must not! Sreng leaned over the table to make quick marks on the map. The lump was free now in her hold. She thrust it away from her so that it slid along the map, would have fallen to the floor had not Sreng caught it, keeping his hand upon it as he looked at them.
“A tomb as you guessed, gentle fem,” he spoke to Yasa. “Dare we hope unlooted? At least this system is unknown according to our records. Which is a good sign. What else have you learned, girl? This piece has been in your keeping; surely you have picked up more.”
Dumbly Ziantha shook her head. She was still shaking from the aftermath of that panic.
“It is death—death waiting—“ she said dully.
“Death waits in every tomb,” commented Yasa. “But whatever was there to frighten has long since gone. This is true Forerunner.”
“Which in no way certifies that all danger has been eradicated by time,” was Sreng’s answer. “Though the rewards may be beyond price, the danger can be great. Sometimes there are traps. One may find a Scroll of Shlan or be crushed by an ingenious deadfall.”
Yasa smiled. “Does not one each day play a game of chance? I did not come here to listen to warn-offs, nor are you one to sit and give them, Sreng—unless time has softened you. You speak of Shlan—that emperor who was buried with the greatest art treasure of his time encasing his body as a shroud. And that is only one of the finds that has been made. What of Var, and Llanfer, and the Gardens of Arzor, the whole planet of Limbo? Do I need to list the others? This is a chance to hunt in a section where no one else has yet searched.”
Sreng looked at the chart. “At least not yet,” he said. “If Jucundus—“
Yasa interrupted him. “He has made no move, we know that. But it may be a matter of time. He needs only to have a psychometric reading. However”—she smiled again—“if he has not, he cannot now.”
“You”—the veep turned to Ziantha—“this Turan you babbled of, who was he?”
She did not hold that memory. “It is a name, no more.”
His stare did not change, but she believed he thought she was lying. What would happen now? Would he put her under a scanner? She was so afraid, she could not control the tremor in her hands, waiting for that fate to come. But he said nothing, instead looked again at the lump, rubbing one finger across its back.