BREED TO COME

Copyright © 1972 by Andre Norton

An Ace Book, by arrangement with
Viking Press, Inc.
All Rights Reserved

This Ace printing: February 1980

There was a light breeze, just enough to whisper
through the leaves.. Furtig lay belly down on the
broad limb of the tree, hunter-fashion, but his claws
were still in his belt loop, not strapped on. No sniff of
that breeze brought any useful scent to his expanded
nostrils. He had climbed the tree not for a base from
which to make a good capture-leap, but to see what
lay beyond. However, now he knew that he must
climb higher still. The leaves were too thick a screen
here.

He moved with sinuous grace. Though his ancestors
had hunted on four legs, Furtig now went on two,
save when time pressed and he had to take to a fast
run. And he was very much at home in the treetops.
For those ancestors had also been climbers, just as
their active curiosity had led them into exploration.
Now he drew up from his perch into smaller branches,
on which he balanced with inborn skill.

At last he gained a crotch, and there he faced
through an opening what he had come to see. He had
chosen a tree on a small hill, and the expanse before
him was clear.

The first nips of frost had struck the country,
though by day a gentle warmth returned. Tall grass
rippled between him and those distant, monstrous
shadows. The grass was brown, and it would not be
long before the cold season. But first came the Trials
of Skill.

Furtig's black lips pulled tight, and he opened his
mouth on a soundless battle snarl. The white curve of
tearing fangs showed their pointed tips. His ears flattened in folds against' his rounded skull, the furred
ridge along his back lifted, and the hair on his tail
puffed.

To those who had known his ancestors, he would be
a grotesque sight; for a body once well fitted to the
needs of its owner had altered in ways strange to nature. Rounded forepaws had split into stubby fingers,
awkward enough but able to accomplish much more
in the way of handling. His body was still largely
furred, but there were places where the fur had
thinned to a light down. There was more dome to his
skull, just as the brain beneath was different, dealing
with thoughts and conceptions earlier unknown. In
fact it was that brain which had altered most of all.
Feline, Furtig's ancestors had been. But Furtig was
something which those who had known those felines
could not have accurately named.

His people did not measure time more than by certain rites of their own, such as the bi-yearly Trials of
Skill when a warrior gave the best evidence of his prowess so that the females could pick a mate. One noted
the coming of winter cold, and the return of spring,
summer's heat when one drowsed through the days
and hunted by night. But the People did not try to
count one year apart from the rest.

Though it was said that Gammage did things none
other of the People thought of doing. Gammage—Furtig studied the bulk of buildings on the other
side of the fields, lairs of the Demons. Yet Gammage
feared no Demon. If all the stories were true, Gammage lived yonder in the heart of the lost Demon
world. It was the custom for first-rite warriors to
speak of "going to Gammage." And once in a long
while one would. Not that any returned—which argued that the Demons still had their traps at work,
even though no Demon had been seen for generations.

Furtig had seen pictures of them. It was part of the
regular scout training to be taught to recognize the
enemy. And, while a youngling could be shown one of
the Barkers, a Tusked One, or even a vile Ration in
the flesh, he had to depend solely upon such representations of Demons for identification.

Long ago the Demons had gone from their lairs,
though they had left foul traces of their existence behind them. The stinking sickness, the coughing death,
the eaten-skin ills—these had fallen on the People too
in the past, for once they had been imprisoned in the
Demons' lairs. Only a small handful of them had
escaped.

The memory of such deaths had kept them away
from the lairs for many lifetimes. Gammage had been
the first to dare to return to live in the Demons' forsaken shells. And that was because his thirst for knowledge had taken him there. Gammage came of a
strange line differing yet again from many of the People.

Absently Furtig brought his hand to his mouth,
licked the fur on it clean of an itch-causing leaf smear.
He was of Gammage's own clan line, and they were
noted for their boldness of curiosity and their dif-
ferences in body. In fact they were not too well re-
garded. Once more his lips wrinkled, his tail twitched
a little. Warriors of his family did not find it easy to
take a mate, not even when they won in the Trials.
Their restlessness of spirit, their habit of questioning
old ways, of exploring, was not favored by any pru-
dent cave mother who wished security for future
younglings.

Such would look in the opposite direction when
Gammage's kin padded by. And Gammage himself,
awesome as he was, had little repute nowadays.
Though the clans were willing enough to accept the
infrequent, but always surprising, gifts which he had
sent from the lairs in times past.

The hunting claws, which clicked softly as Furtig
shifted his weight, were one of Gammage's first gifts
to his people. They were made of a shining metal
which did not dull, break, or flake with the passing of
years as did the shards of metal found elsewhere. Set
in a band which slipped over the hand, they snapped
snugly just above the wrist, projecting well beyond
the stubby fingers with tearing, curved hooks, like the
claws one grew, but far more formidable and danger-
ous. And they were used just as one used one's natu-
ral defenses. A single well-placed blow could kill one
of the deer or wild cows Furtig's people hunted for
their staple food.

In war with one's kind they were forbidden. But
they could be worn to face the Barkers, as those knew
only too well. And with the Rattons—one used all
and any weapons against those evil things. While with
the Tusked Ones there were no quarrels, because of a
truce.

Yes, the claws were from Gammage. And from time
to time other things came from him, all designed to
lighten the task of living in the Five Caves. So that
the clans were respected and feared. There were ru-
ors that another tribe of the People had settled late-
ly to the north of the lairs, but so far none of Furtig's
people had seen them.

The lairs—Furtig studied those blots on the land-
scape. They formed a long range of mountains. Was
Gammage still there? It had been—he began to count
seasons, tapping them off with a finger—it had been
as many as fingers on his one hand since any word or
gift had come from Gammage. Perhaps the Ancestor
was dead.

Only that was hard to believe. Gammage had al-
ready lived far past the proper span of any ordinary
warrior. Why, it had been Furtig's great-great-grand-
father who had been Gammage's youngling in the last
of the families born before the death of his mate and
his departure for the lairs. It was also true that Gam-
mage's blood lived longer than most. Fuffor, Furtig's
father, had died in a battle with the Barkers, and he
was then the only one of his years left at the Five
Caves. Nor had he seemed old; his mate had had an-
other pair of younglings that very season, and she was
the fourth mate he had won during the passing of sea-
sons!


If it was not that so much of Gammage's blood now
ran in the tribe there might be trouble. Once more
Furtig snarled silently. Tales grew, and dark tales al-
ways grow the faster and stronger. Gammage was in
league with Demons, he used evil learning to prolong
his life. Yet for all such mewling of stories in the dark,
his people were eager enough to welcome one of Gam-
mage's messengers—take what he had to offer.

Only, now that those messengers came no more,
and one heard nothing from those who had gone to
seek Gammage, the stories grew in force. At the last
Trials Furtig's older brother of another birth time
had won. Yet he had not been chosen by any mate.
And so he had joined the far scouts and taken a west-
ern trail-of-seeking from which he had never returned.
Could it be any better for Furtig? Perhaps less—for
he was not the warrior-in-strength that Fughan had
been, being smaller and less powerful, even though his
rivals granted him speed and agility.

He supposed he should be in practice now, using all
those skills for the Trials, not wasting time staring at
the lairs. Yet he found it hard to turn away. And his
mind built strange pictures of what must lie within
those walls. Great had been the knowledge of the De-
mons, though they had used it ill and in a manner
which later brought them to defeat and death.

Furtig remembered hearing his father discuss the
dim history of those days. He had been talking with
one of Gammage's messengers about some discovery
the Ancestor had made. That had been when Gam-
mage had sent his picture of a Demon; they were to
beware any creature who resembled it.

Before they had died, the Demons had gone mad,
even as sometimes the Barkers did. They had fallen
upon one another in rage, and were not able to mate
or produce younglings. So without younglings and
with their terrible hatred for one another, they had
come to an end, and the world was the better for their
going.

Gammage had learned this in the lairs, but he also
feared that someday the Demons might return. From
death? Furtig wondered. Great learning they had
had, but could any living creature die and then live
again? Perhaps the Demons were not rightly living
creatures such as the People, even the Rattons. Some-
day—someday he would go to Gammage to leam
more.

But not today, not until he had proven himself,
shown all the Five Caves that the blood of Gammage
was not to be ill-considered. And he would waste no
more time in spying on the dead lairs of Demons ei-
ther!

Furtig swung out of the tree, dropping lightly. This
was the outpost of a small grove which angled back to
become an arm of the forest country, the hunting ter-
ritory of the Five Caves. Furtig was as at home in its
shade as he was in the caves.

He stopped to tuck his hunting claws more tightly
into his belt so that no small jangle would betray his
passing, and then flitted on, his feet making no sound
on the ground. Since he wanted to make speed he
went to all fours, moving in graceful bounds. The Peo-
ple stood proudly upright when it was a time of cere-
mony, thus proving that the Demons who always
walked so were no greater, but in times of need they
fell back upon ancestral ways.
He planned to approach the caves from the north,
but at first his course was west. That would take him
by a small lake, a favorite feeding place of plump
ducks. To return with an addition to the cave food
supplies was always the duty of a warrior.

Suddenly a whiff of rank scent brought Furtig to a
halt, crouching in the bushes. His hand whipped to
his belt, reached for the claws, and he worked his
hands into them with practiced speed.

Barkers! And more than one by the smell. They
were not lone hunters like his own people, but moved
in packs, centering in upon the kill. And one of the
People would be a kill they would enjoy.

Courage was one thing, stupidity another. And
Furtig's people were never stupid. He could remain
where he was and do battle, for he did not doubt that
the Barkers would speedily scent him (in fact he won-
dered fleetingly why they had not already done so).
Or he could seek safety in the only flight left—aloft.

The hunting claws gave him a firm grip as they bit
into tree bark, and he pulled himself up with haste.
He found a branch from which he could view the
ground below. Deep in his throat rumbled a growl he
would not give full voice to, and with flattened ears
and fur lifted on his spine, he watched, eyes aslit in a
fighting face.

There were five of them, and they trotted four-
footed. They had no one such as Gammage to supply
them with any additions to the natural weapons of
fangs. But those were danger enough. The Barkers
were a third again as large as Furtig in size, their
strong muscles moving smoothly under hides which
were some as gray as his own, others blotched with
black or lightened on belly and chest with cream.

They wore belts not unlike his, and from three of
these dangled the limp bodies of rabbits. A hunting
party. But so far they had found only small prey. If
they kept on along that way though (Furtig's sound-
less growl held a suggestion of anticipation), they
were going to cross the regular ranging ground of the
Tusked Ones. And if they were foolish enough to hunt
them—Furtig's green eyes glistened. He would back
the Tusked Ones against any foe—perhaps even
against Demons. Their warriors were not only fierce

fighters but very wily brained.

He hoped that the Barkers would run into Broken
Nose. In his mind Furtig gave that name to the great
boar leader. The People could not echo the speech of
the Tusked Ones, any more than they could the sharp
yelps of the Barkers—though no reasonable creature
could deem those speech. At the rare times of truce
communication, one depended on signs, and the learn-
ing of them was the first lesson of any youngling's ed-
ucation.

Furtig watched the Barkers out of sight and" then

worked his way around the tree, found a place where
he could leap onto the next, and made that crossing

skillfully.

He was still growling. To see Barkers invading the
hunting territory of the Five Caves was a shock. He
would waste no time duck-stalking. On the other
hand he must make sure that those he had seen were
not outscouts for a larger pack. There were times
when packs changed hunting territories, driven out
by larger packs or by lack of game.

If such a pack were coming into the woods, then
Furtig's warning would carry a double impact. He
must back trail on those he had seen for a space.

For a time he kept to the trees, where he left no
trail to be sniffed out even though, unlike the Barkers
and the Tusked Ones, his people had no strong body
odor. They hunted by sight and hearing and not by
scent as did their enemies.

As a final precaution Furtig opened a small skin
pouch made fast to his belt. Within was a wad of
greasy stuff; its musky smell made his nose wrinkle in
disgust. But he resolutely rubbed it on his feet and
hands. Let a Barker sniff that and he would get a
noseful as would send him off again, for it was the fat
of the deadly snake.

Down again on the ground, Furtig sped along. As
he went he listened, tested the air, watched for any
sign that the home woods had been invaded in force.
But he could not find anything save traces of the
small party he had seen.

Then— His head jerked around, his nose pointed to
a tree at his left. Warily he moved toward it. Barker
sign left there as a guide, but under it—

In spite of his disgust at the rankness of the canine
scent, Furtig made himself hold his head close, sniff
deeper. Yes, beneath that road sign of the enemy was
another, a boundary scent—of the People, but not of
his own clan.

He straightened to his full height, held his arms
overhead as far as he could reach. Scratches, pat-
terned scratches, and higher than those he could
make with his own claws. So the stranger who had so
arrogantly left his hunting mark there had been

larger, taller!

Furtig snarled aloud this time. Leaping, he slashed
with his claws, managing to reach and dig into the
other's sign, scouring out that marking, leaving the
deeper grooves he had made. Let the stranger see
that! Those deep marks crossing the first ought to be

a warnoff to be heeded.

But the forest was getting far too crowded. First a
hunting party of the Barkers, now a territory marking
left by a stranger, as if Five Caves and its clans did
not exist at all! Furtig abandoned his back trailing.
The sooner the People learned of these two happen-
ings, the better.

However, he did not throw away caution but mud-
dled his trail as he went. If any scout tried to sniff out
the reptile scent, he would be disheartened by these
further precautions. But this took time, and Furtig
had to make a wider circle to approach the caves from

a different direction.

It was dusk and then night. Furtig was hungry. He

rasped his rough-surfaced tongue in and out of his
mouth when he thought of food. But he did not allow

himself to hurry.

A sudden hiss out of the night did not startle him.
He gave a low recognition note in return. Had he not
sounded that he might well have had his throat
clawed open by the guard. The People did not survive

through lack of caution.

Twice he swung off the open trail to avoid the hid-
den traps. Not that the People were as dependent on
traps as the Ratto.ns, who were commonly known to
have raised that defense to a high art in the lairs. For,
unlike the People, who distrusted and mainly kept
away from the Demon places, the Rations had chosen
always to lurk there.

The Five Caves were ably defended by nature as
well as by their inhabitants. None of them opened at
ground level. High up, they cut back from two ledges
with a straight drop below. There were tree-trunk
ladders rigged to give access to the ledges. But these
could be hauled up, to lie along ledge edge, another
barrier to attack. Twice the caves had been besieged
by packs of Barkers. Both times their defenses had
been unbreakable, and the attackers had lost more
pack members then they had slain in return. It was
during the last such attack that Furtig's father had
fallen.

Within, the caves cut deeply, and one of them had
a way down to where water flowed in the ever-dark.
Thus the besieged did not suffer from thirst, and they
kept always a store of dried meat handy.

Furtig's people were not naturally gregarious.
Younglings and their mothers made close family
units, of course. But the males, except in the Months
of Mating, were not very welcome in the innermost
caves. Unmated males roved widely and made up the
scouts and the outer defenses. They had, through the
years, increased in numbers. But seldom, save at the
Trials of Skill, were they ever assembled together.

They had a truce with another tribe-clan to the
west, and met for trials with them that they might ex-
change bloodlines by intennating. But normally they
had no contact with any but their own five families,
one based in each of the caves.

Furtig's cave was at the top and north, and he
swung up to-it quickly, his nose already sorting and
classifying odors. Fresh meat—ribs of wild cow. Also
duck. His hunger increased with every sniff.

But as he entered the cave, he did not hurry to
where the'females were portioning out the food but
slipped along the wall to that niche where the senior
member of the clan sat sharpening his hunting claws
with the satisfaction of one who had recently put
them to good use. So apparent was that satisfaction,
Furtig knew Fal-Kan had been responsible for the
cow ribs.

Though his people's sight adjusted well to partial
darkness, there was light in the cave, a dull glow from
a small box which was another of Gammage's gifts. It
did not need any tending. When the first daylight
struck into the mouth of the cave it vanished, coming
alive again in the dusk of evening.

Gammage's bounty, too, were the squares of woven
stuff that padded the sleeping ledges along the walls.
In summer these were stowed away, and the females
brought in sweet-scented grasses in their places. But
in the cold, when one curled up on them, a gentle heat
was generated to keep one warm through the worst of
winter storms.

"Fal-Kan has hunted well." Furtig squatted several
paces away from his mother's eldest brother, now sit-
ting on his own sleep ledge. Thus Furtig was the pre-
scribed respectful distance below him.

"A fat cow," Fal-Kan replied as one who brings
home such riches each morning before the full heat of
the sun. "But you came in haste, wearing trail de-
stroyer—" He sniffed heavily. "So what danger have
your eyes fastened on?"

Furtig spoke—first of the Barkers and then of the
strange boundary sign. With a gesture Fal-Kan dis-
missed the Barkers, They were what one could expect
from time to time, and scouts would be sent to make
sure the Barkers were not pack forerunners. But at
the story of the slash marks Fal-Kan set aside his
claws and listened intently. When Furtig told of his
counter-marking, the Elder nodded.

"That was well d6ne. And you say that these
slashes were not deep. Perhaps no more deeply set
than these could do?" He held out his hand, extend-
ing his natural claws.

"So it looked." Furtig had long ago learned that
caution was the best tone to take with Elders. They
were apt to consider the opinions of the young as
misled and misleading.

"Then this one did not know Gammage."

Furtig's open astonishment brought him to the dis-
courtesy of actually interrupting an Elder.

"Know Gammage! But he is a stranger—not of the
Five Caves—or of the western People. Gammage
would not know him."

Fal-Kan growled softly, and Furtig, in confusion,
recognized his error. But his surprise remained.

"It is time," Fal-Kan said in the throat-rumbling
voice used for pronouncements against offenders of
cave custom, "that one speak clearly about the Ances-
tor. Have you not wondered why we have not been fa-
vored by his attention lately, during this time of your
growing—though it would seem by your actions that
you have not in truth progressed far beyond a young-
ling?"

Fal-Kan waited for no answer but continued with-
out a pause.

"The fact is that our Ancestor"—and he did not
say Honored Ancestor or use any title of respect—"is
so engrossed by this fear of returning Demons which
has settled in his head that he raises voice to unite all
People—as if they were of one family or clan! All Peo-
ple brought together!" Fal-Kan's whiskers bristled.

"All warriors know that the Demons are gone. That
they slew each other, and that they could not make
their kind any more, so they became fewer and fewer
and finally there were none. Whence then would any
come? Do old bones put on flesh and fur and come
alive again? But the Ancestor has this fear, and it
leads him in ways no prudent one would travel. It was
learned the last time his messenger came that he was
giving other People the same things he had sent here
to the caves.

"And—with greater folly—he even spoke of trying
to make truce with the Barkers for a plan of common
defense, lest when the Demons returned we be too
scattered and weak to stand against them. When this
was known, the Elders refused the gifts of Gammage
and told his messenger not to come again, for we no
longer held them clan brothers."

Furtig swallowed. That Gammage would do this!
There must be some other part of the story not known.
For none of the People would be so sunk in folly as to
share with enemies the weapons they had. Yet neither
would Fal-Kan say this if he did not believe it the
truth.

"And Gammage must have heard our words and
understood." Fal-Kan's tail twitched. "We have not
seen his messengers since. But we have heard from
our truce mates in the west that there were truce flags
set before the lairs in the north and strangers gath-
ered there. Though we do not know who those were,"
Fal-Kan was fair enough to add. "But it may well be
that, having turned his face from his own kin when
they would not support his madness, Gammage now
gives to others the fruits of his hunting. And this is a
shameful thing, so we do not speak of it, even among
ourselves, unless there is great need.

"But of the hunting sign on the tree, that we must
speak of—all warriors together. For we are not so rich
in game that we can allow others to take our country
for their own. And we shall also tell this to the west-
ern kin. They come soon for the Trials. Go and eat,
warrior. I shall take your words to the other cave
Elders."

20

The visitors had been in sight of the cave scouts since
midaftemoon, but their party did not file into their
usual campsite until after nightfall. This was the al-
ternate season when the western clans came to the
caves. Next season Furtig's people would cross coun-
try for the Trials.

All the young unmated warriors who were to take
part in the coming contests scattered along the in-
road (unless their Elders managed to restrain them
with other duties). Though it was ill mannered to
stare openly at their guests, there was naught to pre-
vent their watching the travelers from cover, making
comparisons between their champions and those
marching in the protect circle about the females and
younglings, or, better still, catching glimpses of their
Choosers.

But to Furtig none of those were as attractive as
Fas-Tan of the cave of Former. And his interest was
more for probable rivals than for the prizes of battle
the other tribe could display. Not, he reflected .rueful-
ly, that he had much chance of aspiring to Fas-Tan.

Through some trick of heredity which ran in her
family, she had odd fur coloring which was esteemed,
along with the length of that fur, as beauty. The soft
fur about her head and shoulders was nearly three
times the length of that sprouting from Furtig's own
tougher hide, and it was of two colors—not spotted or
patched as was often the case but a dark brown shad-
ing evenly to cream. Her tail, always groomed to a
silken flow, was also dark. Many were the fish-bone
combs patiently wrought and laid at the message rock
to the fore of Former's cave, intended by the hopeful
to catch the eye of Fas-Tan. And to know that she
used the work of one's clumsy hands was enough to
make a warrior strut for a day.

Fas-Tan would certainly have first choice, and with
her pride, her selection of mate would be he who
proved himself best. Furtig had not the least chance
of catching her golden eyes. But a warrior could
dream, and he had dreamed.

Now another thought plagued him. Fal-Kan's reve-
lations concerning the folly, almost the treachery of
Gammage, hung in his mind. He found himself look-
ing not at the females of the westerners, but at the
fringe of warriors. Most had hunting claws swinging
at their belts. However, Furtig's eyes marked at least
three who did not wear those emblems of manhood,
yet marched with the defenders. A warrior could gain
his claws in two ways, since they no longer came from
Gammage. He could put on those which had been his
father's if his sire had gone into the Last Dark, or he
could challenge a claw wearer and strive for a victory
that would make them his.

Furtig's claws had been his father's. He had had to
work patiently and long to hammer their fastenings
to fit his own hands. If he were challenged tomorrow
by one of the clawless and lost— He dropped his hand
protectingly over the weapons at his belt. To lose
those—

However, when he thought of Fas-Tan there was a
heat in him, a need to yowl a challenge straight into
the whiskered face of the nearest warrior. And he
knew that no male could resist the Trials when the
Choosers walked provocatively, tails switching, seem-
ing to see no one, yet well aware of all who watched.

And he was the only contender from the cave of
Gammage this year. Also, since his brother Fughan
had brought home no mate, he was doubly held to
challenge. He wriggled back into the brush and head-
ed for the caves.

As he pulled up into his own place, he gave a small
sigh. Trials were never to the death; the People were
too few to risk the loss of even one warrior. But a con-
tender could be badly mauled, even maimed, if the
Ancestors turned their power from him.

Only Gammage, Furtig's most notable Ancestor,
was not here, even in spirit. And it seemed, after he
had listened to Fal-Kan, that Gammage had fallen
from favor with his own kind. Furtig squatted by the
lamp box and lapped a mouthful or two of water from
his bowl as he thought about Gammage.

Why did the Ancestor fear the return of the De-
mons? It had been so long since the last one had been
seen. Unless—Furtig's spine hair raised at the
thought—deep in the lairs they still existed. And
Gammage, creeping secret ways there, had learned
more of their devilish evil than he had shared. But if
that were true—no, he was certain Gammage would
have sent a plain message, one which might even have
won some of the People to join in his wild plans.

Elders sometimes took to living in the past. They
spoke to those who had gone into the Last Dark as if
such still stood at their sides. It came to them, this
other sight, when they were very old. Though few
lived so long, for when a warrior grew less swift of
thought, less supple of body, he often died suddenly
and bloodily by the horns and hoofs of hunted prey,
from the coughing sickness which came with the cold,
of a hundred other perils which always ringed the
caves.

Only such perils might not haunt the lairs. And
Gammage, very old, saw Demons stalking him in the
shadows of their own stronghold. Yes, that could be
the answer. But you could not argue with one who
saw those gone before. And Gammage, moved by such
shadows and master of the lair wonders—why, he
could even be a menace to his own People if he con-
tinued in his folly of spreading his discoveries among
strangers! And even—as Fal-Kan had said—among
his enemies! Someone ought to go to Gammage in
truth, not just in the sayings of young warriors, and
discover what he was doing now. For the good of the
People that should be done.

Going to Gammage—it had been four trials ago
that the last one who said that had gone, never to re-
turn. Foskatt of Fava's cave. He had been bested in
the contests. Furtig tried to recall Foskatt and then
wished he had not. For the image in his mind was
too like the one he had seen of himself the last time he
had looked down at the other-Furtig in the smooth
water of the Pool of Trees.

Foskatt, too, had been thin, narrow of shoulder and
loin. And his fur was the same deep gray, almost blue
in the sun. He also had been fond of roving on his own
and had once shown Furtig something he had found
in a small lair, one of those apart from the great ones
in which Gammage lived. It was a strange thing, like
a square box of metal, and in its top was a square of
other material, very smooth. When Foskatt pressed a
place on the side of the box, there appeared a picture
on the top square. It was Demon-made, and when the
cave Elders saw it they took it from Foskatt and
smashed it with rocks.

Foskatt had been very quiet after that. And when
he was beaten at the Trials, he had gone to Gammage.
What had he found in the lairs?

Furtig fingered his fighting claws and thought
about what might happen tomorrow; he must forget
Gammage and consider rather his own future. The
closer it came to the hour when he would have to
front an opponent chosen by lot, the less good that
seemed. Though he knew that once a challenge was
uttered, he would be caught up in a frenzy of battle
he would neither want to avoid nor be able to control.
The very life force of their kind would spur him on.

Since it was not the custom that one tribe should
stare at another in their home place, those of the
caves went to their own shelters as the van of the visi-
tors settled in the campgrounds, so Furtig was not
alone for long. In the cave the life of his family bub-
bled about him.

"There is no proper way of influencing the drawing
of lots." Fal-Kari and two of the lesser Elders drew
Furtig aside to give him council, though he would far
rather have them leave him alone. Or would he?
Which was worse, foreseeing in his own mind what
might happen to him, or listening to advice delivered
with an undercurrent of dubious belief in their cham-
pion? Fal-Kan sounded now as if he did wish there
was some way to control the selection of warrior
against warrior.

"True." Fujor licked absentmindedly at his hand,
his tongue rasping ever against the place where one
finger was missing, as if by his gesture he could re-
grow the lacking member. Fujor was hairier of body
than most of the cave and ran four-footed more often.

"There are three without claws," Fal-Kan contin-
ued. "Your weapons, warrior, will be an added in-
ducement for any struggle with those. Some will fight
sooner for good weapons than a mate."

Furtig wished he could pull those jingling treasures
from his belt and hide them. But custom forbade it.
There was no escape from laying them on the chal-
lenge rock when he was summoned. However, he
dared speak up out of a kind of desperation. After all,
Fal-Kan and Fujor had been successful in their own
Trials. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could give him
some manner of advice.

"Do you think, Elders, that I am already defeated,
that you see the claws of my father on the hands of a
stranger? For if this is so, can you not then tell me
how the worst is to be avoided?"

Fal-Kan eyed him critically. "It is the will of the
Ancestors who will win. But you are quick, Furtig.
You know all we can teach you. We have done our
best. See that you do also."

Furtig was silenced. There was no more to be got-
ten out of these two. They were both Elders (though
Fujor only by right of years, not by any wisdom). Fe-
San, the other Elder, was noted for never raising his
voice in Fal-Kan's presence.

The other males were younglings, too young to do
more than tread the teaching trails by day. Lately
they had had more females than males within the
cave of Gammage. And after every Trial the females
went to the victors' caves. The family was dwindling.
Perhaps it would be with them as it had been with the
cave of Rantia on the lower level, a clan finally re-
duced only to Elders and to Choosers too old to give
birth. Yet Gammage had founded a proud line!

Now Furtig ate sparingly of the meat in his bowl,
scrambled onto his own ledge, and curled up to sleep.
He wished that the morning was already passed and
the outcome of his uncertain championship decided.
Through the dark he could hear the purring whispers
of two of his sisters. Tomorrow would be a day of
pride for them, with no doubts to cloud their excite-
ment. They would be among the Choosers, not among
the fighters.

Furtig tried to picture Fas-Tan, but his thoughts
kept sliding in more dismal directions—he pictured a
belt with no claws and an inglorious return to his
cave. It was then he made up his mind. If he was a
loser he was not going to take the solitary trail his
brother had followed, or remain here to be an object
of scorn for the Elders. No, he was going to Gam-
mage!

The morning cry woke Furtig from dreams he could
not remember. Thus they had not been sent by any
Ancestor to warn him. And Furtig, as he dropped
from his sleep place, felt no greater strength. The
thought of the coming day weighed heavily on him, so
much so that he had to struggle to preserve the
proper impassive manner of a warrior on this day of
days.

When they gathered on the pounded-earth flooring
of the Trial place, Furtig had to join the line of Chal-
lengers as confidently as if he were San-Lo himself,
there at the other end. San-Lo was easily counted the
best the caves could produce. His yellow fur with its
darker brown striping was sleek and well ordered,
seeming to catch the morning sun in a blaze, foretell-
ing the glory which would soon rest on him in the
sight of both caves and westerners.

Furtig had no illusions; of that company he was
certainly the least likely to succeed. There were ten of
them this year, with a range of different fur coloring
making a bright pattern. Two brothers of the gray-
with-black-striping, which was the commonest; a
night black, a contrast to his two black-and-white
brothers, a formidable trio who liked to hunt together
and shared more companionship than others of their
age group. Then came a stocky white with only ears
and tail of gray; two more yellows, younger and
lighter editions of San-Lo; a brown-striped with a
white belly; and last Furtig in solid gray.

Their opponents were more uniform, having origi-
nally come from only two families, according to tradi-
tion. They were either all black, or black-and-white in
various markings.

The Choosers were lying at languid ease on top of
the sun-warmed rocks to the east of the combat field,
while the Elders and the mated gathered north and
south. Now and then one of the Choosers would wan-
tonly utter a small yowling call, promising delights for
him she would accept. But Fas-Tan did not have to
attract attention so. Her superb beauty already had
registered with them all.

Ha-Ja, who was the Eldest of the Westerners, and
Kuygen, who held the same status at the caves, ad-
vanced to the center of the field. At a gesture each
brought forward the first warrior in each line, holding
a bowl well above the eye level of the contestants.
Those raised their hands and drew, keeping their
choices as concealed as they could. So it went, two by
two, until Furtig had his chance. He groped in the
bowl, felt the two remaining slips of wood, and pulled
but one.

Once they had all drawn, each contestant smoothed
a small patch of earth and dropped his choose-stick
on it. Ha-Ja called first:

"One notch end."

San-Lo showed his fangs and gave a low snarl of as-
sent.

Kuygen gestured to the westerners. The duplicate
lay at the feet of a powerfully built all-black, whose
tail was already twitching. At least, by the look of
him, San-Lo would be fairly matched.

Both advanced to the center rock, tossed their
hunting claws with a jangle of metal on the stone. At
least in this battle there would be no forfeiture of

weapons.

Together Ha-Ja and Kuygen made signal. The war-
riors went to full ground-crouch, their tails alash, ears
flattened, eyes slitted. And from their throats came
the howls of battle. They circled in one of the custom-
ary challenge moves, and then the black sprang.

Their entanglement was a flurry of such fast tear-
ing, rolling, and kicking with the powerful hind feet
that the spectators, accustomed as they were to such
encounters, were hardly able to follow the action be-
fore the warriors parted. Tufts of fur blew from the
battle site, but they were yowling again, neither
seeming the least affected by the fury of their first

meeting.

Again that attack, vicious, sudden, complete. They
rolled over and over on the ground and fur flew. The
emotion spread to the spectators. Waiting warriors
yowled, voicing their own battle cries, hardly able to
restrain themselves from leaping at each other. Even
the Elders added to the general din. Only the Choos-
ers held to their studied languor, though their eyes
were very wide, and here and there a pink tongue tip

showed.

San-Lo won. When they separated the second time,

the black had lowered tail and backed from the field,
raw and bleeding tears on his belly. The champion of
the caves strutted to the rock to pick up his claws,
dangling them in an arrogant jingle before he re-
turned to his place in line.

The fights continued. Two of the cave warriors sur-
rendered to the visitors. Then there were three
straight wins for Furtig's clan. But his apprehension
was growing. The matching of pieces was leaving an-
other warrior on the western side as formidable in size
as the one who had stood up to San-Lo. If the favor of
the Ancestors was against Furtig—

And it was. His neighbor on the cave line bested—
but just—his opponent. Furtig must face the power-
ful warrior. Also—no claws swung from the other's
belt, so he had to face the thought of not only one de-
feat but two.

Dreading what was to come, yet knowing it must be
faced, he went dutifully to the rock, tossed his claws
there with a reluctance he hoped was not betrayed.

At least he could make the black know that he had
been in a fight! And he yowled his chall'enge with
what strength he could muster. When they tangled,
he fought with all the skill he had. Only that was not
enough. Sheer determination not to give in sent him
twice more to tangle with those punishing clawed
legs, fangs which had left wounds. It was a nightmare
to which there was no end. He could only keep fight-
ing—until—

Until there was blackness and he was lost in it,
though there were unpleasant dreams. And when he
awoke in the cave, lying on his own pallet, he first
thought it was all a dream. Then he raised his swim-
ming head and looked upon the matted paste of heal-
ing leaves plastered on him.

Almost hoping, he fought pain to bring his hand to
his belt. But there were no claws there. He had plain-
ly lost, and those weapons which had been Gam-
mage's good gift to Furtig's father were gone with all
his hopes of ever being more in the caves than Fu-Tor
of the missing hand.

They had patched him up with the best of their
tending. But there was no one in the cave. He craved
water with a thirst which was now another pain, and
finally forced his aching and bruised body to obey
him, crawling through the light of the night lamp to
the stone trough. There was little left, and when he
tried to dip out a bowlful his hand shook so that he
got hardly any. But even as he had fought on when
there was no hope of victory, he persisted.

Furtig did not return to his ledge. Now that he was
not so single-minded in his quest for water, he could
plainly hear the sounds of the feasting below. The
Choosing must be over, the winners with the mates
who had selected them. Fas-Tan—he put her out of
his mind. After all she had been only a dream he
could never hope to possess.

His clawless belt was the greater loss, and he could
have wailed over that like a youngling who had
strayed too far from his mother and feared what
might crouch in the dark. That he could stay on in the
caves now was impossible.

But to go to Gammage armed and confident was
one matter. To slink off as a reject from the Trials,
with his weapon lost as spoils of victory— In some
things his pride was deep. Yet—to Gammage he must
go. It was his right, as it had been his brother's, to
choose to leave. And one could always claim a second
Trial—though at present that was the last thing he

wanted.

However, Furtig had no intention of leaving before
he proclaimed his choice. Pride held him to that.
Some losers might be poor spirited enough to slink
away in the dark of night, giving no formal word to
their caves—but not Furtig! He crawled back to the
ledge, knowing that he must also wait until he was fit
for the trail again.

So he lay, aching and smarting, listening to the
feasting, wondering if his sisters had chosen to mate

with victorious westerners or within the caves. And so
he fell asleep.

It was midday when he awoke, for the sun was
shining in a bright bar well into the cave mouth. The
ledges of the elders were empty, but he heard noises
in the parts within. As he turned his head one of the
younger females almost touched noses with him, she
had been sitting so close, her eyes regarding him un-
winkingly.

"Furtig." She spoke his name softly, putting out a
hand to touch a patch of the now dried leaf plaster on
his shoulder. "Does it hurt you much?"

He was aware of aches, but none so intense as
earlier.

"Not too much, clan sister."
"Mighty fighter, in the cave of Grimmage—"

He wrinkled a lip in a wry grimace. "Not so, young-
ling. Did I not lose to the warrior of the westerners?
San-Lo is a mighty fighter, not Furtig."

She shook her head. Like him she was furred with
rich gray, but hers was longer, silkier. He had thought
Fas-Tan was rare because of her coloring, but this
youngling, Eu-La, would also be a beauty when her
choose-time came.

"San-Lo was chosen by Fas-Tan." She told him
what he could easily have guessed. "Sister Naya has
taken Mur of Folock's cave. But Sister Yngar—she
took the black warrior of the westerners—" Eu-La's

ears flattened and she hissed.

Furtig guessed. "The one I battled? He is a strong

one."

"He hurt you." Eu-La shook her head. "It was

wrong for Sister Yngar to choose one who hurt her
brother. She is no longer of the cave." Once more she

hissed.

"But of course she is not, sister. When one chooses,

one is of the clan of one's mate. That is the way of

life."

"It is a bad way—this fighting way." She chewed

one claw tip reflectively between words. "You are bet-
ter than San-Lo."

Furtig grunted. "I would not like to try to prove

that, sister. In fact it is a not-truth."

She hissed. "He is strong of claw, yes. But in his

head—does he think well? No, Fas-Tan is a fool. She
should pick a mate who thinks rather than one who

fights strongly."

Furtig stared at her. Why, she was only a young-
ling, more than a season away from her own time of
choice. But what she said now was not a youngling

kind of thing.

"Why do you think so?" he asked, curious.
"We"—her head went up proudly—"are of the
cave of Gammage. And the Ancestor learned many,
many things to help us. He did not so learn by fight-
ing. He went hunting for knowledge instead of bat-
tles. Brother, females also think. And when I grow
trail-wise I shall not choose—I shall go to Gammage
also! There I shall learn and leam—" She stretched
forth her thin furred arms as if she were about to
gather to her some heaping of knowledge, if knowl-
edge could be so heaped and gathered.

"Gammage has grown foolish with time—" He
spoke tentatively.

Once more she hissed, and now her anger was
directed at him.

"You speak as the Elders. Because some do not un-
derstand new things they say that such are stupid or
ill thought. Think instead on what Gammage has sent
us, and that these may only be a small part of the
great things he has found! There must be much good
in the lairs."

"And if Gammage's fears are the truth, there may
also be Demons there."

Eu-La wrinkled a lip. "Believe in Demons when
you see them, brother. Before then take what you can
which will aid you."

He sat up. "How did you know I was minded to go
to Gammage?"

She gave a soft purr of laughter. "Because you are
who you are you can do no other, brother. Look you."
She brought out from behind her a small bag pulled
tight by a drawstring. Furtig had seen only one such
before, that being much prized by the females. It had
been made, according to tradition, by Gammage's last
mate, who had had more supple fingers than most.
But it had not been duplicated since.

"Where got you that?"

"I made it." Her pride was rightly great. "For
you—" She pushed it into his hand. "And these also."

What she produced now were as startling as the
bag, for she had a pair of hunting claws. They were
not the shining, well-cared-for ones which had been
his. There were two points missing on one set, one on
the other, and the rest were dull and blunted.

"I found them," Eu-La told him, "in a place be-
tween two rocks down in the cave of waters. They are
broken, brother, but at least you do not go with bare
hands. And—this I ask of you—when you stand be-
fore the Ancestor, show him this—" She touched the
bag. "Say to him then, shall not a female of the cave
of Gammage not also have a part in the learning of
new things?"

Furtig grasped both bag and claws, astounded at
her gifts, so much more than he could have hoped for.

"Be sure, sister," he said, "that I shall say it to him
just as you have said it to me."

Furtig crept forward. It was not yet dawn, but to his
eyes the night was not dark. He had chosen to cross
the wide expanse of open space about the western
fringe of the Demons' lair by night—though a whole
day of watching had shown no signs of life there. Nor
had he, during this patient stalk across the grass-
covered open, discovered any game trail or sign that
aught came or went from the buildings.

But the closer he approached the lairs, the more
awe-inspiring they were. From a distance he had been
able to judge that their height was far greater even
than that of the cliff which held the Five Caves. How-
ever, he had had no idea how high they were until he
neared their bases. Now he had almost to roll on his
back to see their tips against the sky.

It was frightening. Furtig felt that to venture in
among those banks of towering structures would be to
set foot in a trap. As Gammage had? Was it death and
not the reception afforded his unwelcome ideas which
had kept the Ancestor silent these past seasons?

Though his sense of smell was no way near as keen
as a Barker's, Furtig lifted his head higher and tried
to distinguish some guiding odor. Did Gammage's
people mark the boundaries of their territory here as
they would forest trees, though with scent not
scratches? He could detect the scent of the dying
grass, got some small whiffs of the inhabitants of that
flat land—mice, a rabbit. But nothing seemed to issue
from the lairs, though the wind blew from there, rip-
pling the grass in his direction.

On all fours, Furtig advanced with the stealth of a
hunter creeping up on unwary prey, alert to sounds.
There was a swishing which was the wind in the grass,
some rustlings born of his own movements, which
could not be helped unless one could somehow tread
air above the blowing fronds. A frantic scurrying to

his left—rabbit.

The grass came to an end. Before him was a stretch
of smooth stone—almost as if the lairs had opened a
mouth, extended a tongue to lap him in. There was no
hiding place beyond. He would have to walk across
the open. Reluctantly, Furtig rose on hind feet.

It was well enough to creep and crawl when one
had the excuse of keeping to cover. But he did not in-
tend to enter the lairs so. There was something in him
which demanded boldness now.

He paused only to slip the claws over his hands.
They were inferior, and did not fit his hands smooth-
ly, but he had worked them into the best condition he
could. And, while he never ceased to regret the loss of
his own fine weapons, he was deeply grateful to Eu-La
for her gift. Armed, he was now ready.

A quick dart took him across into the shadow by
the first wall. There were regular breaks in that, but
set so high he could not reach any. Surely there must
be some guide to Gammage, some trail markings to
lead in a newcomer. For it was well known that Gam-
mage welcomed those who came to him.

Furtig continued to sniff for such a marker. There
was a smell of bird. He could see streaks of droppings
on the walls. But nothing more than that.

With no guide he could only work his way into the
heart of the lairs, hoping to pick up some clue to those
he sought. However, he went warily, making use of all
shadows he could.

And, as he went, awe of those who had built all this
grew in him. How had they piled up their cliffs? For
these erections were not natural rock. What knowl-
edge the Demons had had!

Sunrise found him still wandering, at a loss for a
guide. He had come across two open spaces enclosed
by the buildings. They were filled with tangles of veg-
etation now seared by fall. One surrounded a small
lake in which water birds suddenly cried out and rose
with a great flapping of wings.

Furtig crouched, startled. Then he realized that he
could not have been the reason for that flight. Then—
what had?

At that moment he caught the hot scent, rank,
overpowering. And he snarled. Ratton! There was no
mistaking its foulness. Rations—here? They clung to
the lairs of Demons, that was true, yet it was thought
they had not spread far through those.

Furtig edged back into the hollow of a doorway. At
his back the door itself was a great unbroken solid
slab, and it was closed. As it was about six times his
own height and gave the appearance of strength, he
had no hope of opening it. And if he were sighted, or
scented, in this place he would be cornered.

The Rattons did not fight as the People did but
more like the Barkers, sending many against one.
Though Furtig was much larger than any of their
kind, he could not hope to stand up to a whole
company of them. His tail twitched sharply as he
watched the bushes about the lake and used his nose
and ears to aid his eyes in locating the foe.

Though most of the water birds had flown, at least
three of their flock were in difficulty. For there was a
beating of wings, harsh cries at the far end of the lake.
Furtig could not see through the screen of bushes,
and he was not about to advance into what might be
enemy territory. Suddenly the squawking was cut on,
and he thought the hunters must have finished their
prey.

His own plans had changed. To go into Ratton-held
lairs—no! And he imagined now what might have
been Gammage's fate—well-picked bones!

But could he withdraw without being hunted? Fur-
tig was not sure whether the Rattons hunted by scent
or by ear and eye. His only recourse was to befuddle
his trail as well as he could. And in the open he could
not do that.

Furtig tried feverishly to remember all he had
heard concerning the Rattons. Could they leap, climb,
follow the People so? Or were they earthbound like
the Barkers? It seemed he was soon to prove one or
the other.

On either side of the door behind him was a panel
in the wall. These were set higher than his head, even
when he stretched to his full height. The one to his
right was intact. But the other had a break in its cov-
ering, leaving only shards of stuff in the frame.

Furtig crouched and leaped. His fighting claws
caught on the edge of those shards and they splin-
tered. He kept his hold and kicked his way in. He
found himself on a ledge above a dusky floor. It was
narrow, but he could balance there long enough to
survey what lay beyond.

There were objects standing here and there, a
heavy dust covering the floor. He surveyed that with
disappointment. Not a track on it. When he dropped
he would leave a trail the most stupid tracker could
follow. Furtig teetered on the ledge, undecided. The
dead air made his nose wrinkle, and he fought the
need to sneeze. His half plan now seemed rank folly.
Better to stay in the open— He turned his head to
look out. There was a flash of movement in the bushes
near the door.

Too late! They were already closing in. He needed
speed now to reach a place where he could wedge his
back as he turned to face his attackers.

He made a second leap from the ledge to the top of
one of the objects standing on the floor. His feet
plowed into the soft dust and he skidded nearly to its
far end, pushing the dust before him, before his claws
held fast.

The room had two doors, both open arches, neither
barred. What he wanted now was to get to the very
top of this lair, and out into the open, where he would
perhaps have a bare chance of leaping to the next lair,
just as he would leap from tree to tree to escape
ground-traveling enemies.

There was little choice between the doors, and in
the end he took the nearest. This gave onto a long
passage from which opened other doorless rooms—
rather like the caves. Save that these promised no se-
curity.

Furtig wasted no time exploring, but ran at top
speed past those doorless openings to the end of the
hall. Here was a door and it was closed. He tried to in-
sert claw tips in the crack he could see and was an-
swered by a slight give. Enough to set him tearing
frenziedly at the promise.

When it did open far enough for him to slip his
body through, he gave a convulsive start backward.
For, opening at his feet, was a deep shaft. There was
nothing beyond the door but a hole that might entrap
a full-sized bull. In his fear Furtig spat, clawed at the
edges of the door.

It was too late. The momentum of his assault on
that stubborn barrier pitched him out into empty
space. He had closed his eyes in reflex as he went, fear
filling him, forcing out sense and reason—

Until he realized that he was not falling like a stone
pitched from one of the cave ledges, but drifting
downward!

Furtig opened his eyes, hardly aware even now that
he was riot on his way to a quick death. It was dark in
the shaft, but he could see that he was descending,
slowly, as if he rested on some solid surface that was
sinking into the foundations of the lair.

Of course it was well known that the Demons com-
manded many powers. But that they could make thin
air support a body! Furtig drew a deep breath and
felt his pounding heart lessen its heavy beat a frac-
tion. It was plain he was not going to die, at least not
yet, not so long as this mysterious cushion of air held.
Thinking about that, he grew fearful again. How long
would it hold?

He wondered if he could aid himself in some way.
This was almost like being in water. One swam in
water. Would the same motions carry one here? Ten-
tatively Furtig made a couple of arm sweeps and
found himself closer to the wall of the shaft. He
reached it just in time to see the outline of another
door, and tried to catch at the thin edge around it
with his claws. But those scraped free and he was past
before he could make any determined effort. Now he
waited, alert to another such chance as he drifted
down. Only to be disappointed.

A sound from above! The faint squeal echoed in the
shaft. Rattons up there! Probably at the door he had
forced open. Would they take to the air after him?
Furtig flexed his fingers within the fastening of the
claws. He had no liking for the prospect of fighting in
mid-air. But if he had no choice he had better be pre-
pared.

However, it seemed that those above were not
ready to make such a drastic pursuit. Perhaps if they
could not sight him they would believe that he had
plunged to death. Unless they, living in the lairs,
knew the odd properties of the shaft. If so, would
they ambush him on landing?

Alarmed at the thought, Furtig kicked out and
thrust closer to the wall, searching as he drifted down
for any signs of an anchorage he could use. But he
must have waited too long. The walls here were uni-
formly smooth. And, though he drew the claws de-
spairingly along, hoping to hook in some hole, he
heard only the rasping scrape of those weapons, found
nothing in which they could root.

He could not judge distance, and time seemed
strange too. How long, how far, had he fallen? He had
entered the lair at ground level, but this descent must
be carrying him far under the surface of the earth.
Though he knew security in caves which reached un-
derground, yet this was something else, and the fear

of the unknown was in him.

He was falling faster now! Had that cushion of air
begun to fail? Furtig had only time to ready himself
for what might be a hard landing before he did land,

on a padded surface.

The dark was thick; even his night sight could not
serve him. But he could look up the shaft and see the
lighter grayish haze of what lay beyond the door he

had forced.

Furtig tested the air for Ratton stench but was
only a fraction relieved at its absence. There were
other smells here, but none he could identify.

After a moment he straightened from the instinc-
tive crouch into which he had gone and began to feel
his way around the area. Three sides, the scrape of his
claws told him, were walls.

His whiskers, abristle on his upper lip, fanned out
above his eyes, gave him an additional report on space
as they were intended to. The fourth wall was an
opening like the mouth of a tunnel. But Furtig, re-
membering his error at the door above, made no quick
effort to try it.

When he did advance, it was on all fours, testing
each step with a wide swing of hand ahead, listening
for the sound of the metal claw tips to reassure him
about the footing.

So he crept on. The tunnel, or hall, appeared to run
straight ahead, and was the width of the shaft. So far
he had located no breaks in its walls, at least at the
level of his going. Now he began, every five paces, to
rise and probe to the extent of his full reach for any
openings that might be above.

However, he could find none, and his blind progress
continued. He began to wonder if he were as well
trapped by his own recklessness as the Rations could
have trapped him by malicious purpose. Could he
somehow climb up the shaft if he found this a dead-
end way?

Then his outthrust hand bumped painfully against
a solid surface. At the same time there was a lighten-
ing of the complete dark to his right, and a sharply
angled turn in the hall led him toward it.

Furtig's head came up, he drew a deep breath, test-
ing that faint scent. Ratton—yes—but with it a more
familiar, better smell, which could only come from one
of his own people! But the People and the Rattons—
he could not believe any such combination could be a
peaceful one. Could Gammage have carried his mad-
ness so far as to deal with Rattans!

The Ratton smell brought an almost noiseless
growl deep in his throat. But the smell of his own kind
grew stronger, and he was drawn to it almost in spite
of himself.

Furtig discovered the source of the light now, a slit
set high in the wall, but not so high that he could not
leap and hook claws there, managing to draw himself
up, despite the strain on his forearms, to look through.

All that short glimpse afforded him was the sight of
another wall. He must somehow find the means of re-
maining longer at the slit. Whatever was there must
lie beyond eye level, and the odor of the People was
strong.

Furtig had his belt. Slowly he pulled the bone pin
which held it about him, unhooked the pouches of
supplies, and laid the belt full length on the floor. He
shed the claws and clumsily, using his teeth as well as
his stubby fingers, made each end of the belt fast to
the claws, testing that fastening with sharp jerks.

Then he looped the belt around him, slipped the
claws on lightly, and leaped once more for the slit.
The claws caught. He jerked his hands free, and the
belt supported him, his powerful hind legs pressed
against the wall to steady him.

He could look down into the chamber. His people—
yes—two of them. But the same glimpse which identi-
fied them showed Furtig they were prisoners. One was
stretched in tight bonds, hands and feet tied. The
other had only his hands so fastened; one leg showed
an ugly wound, blood matted black in the fur.

Furtig strained to hold his position, eager to see.
The bound one—he was unlike any of the People Fur-
tig knew. His color was a tawny sand shade on his
body; the rest of him, head, legs, tail, was a deep
brown. His face thinned to a sharply pointed chin and
his eyes were bright blue.

His fellow prisoner, in contrast to the striking color
combination of the blue-eyed one, was plain gray,
bearing the black stripes of the most common hue
among the People. But—Furtig suppressed a small
cry.

Foskatt! He was as certain as he was of his own
name and person that the wounded one was Foskatt,
who had gone seeking Gammage and never returned.

And if they were prisoners in a place where there
was so strong a stench of Ration, he could well guess
who their captors were. If he had seen only the
stranger he would not have cared. One had a duty to
the caves and then to the tribe, but a stranger must
take his own chances. Though Furtig hesitated over
that reasoning—he did not like to think of any of the
People, stranger or no, in the hands of the Rations.

But Foskatt had to be considered. Furtig knew
only too well the eventual fate of any Ration captive.
He would provide food for as many of his captors as
could snatch a mouthful.

Furtig could hold his position no longer. But he
took the chance of uttering the low alerting hiss of the
caves. Twice he voiced that, clinging to the claw-belt
support.

When he hissed the second time, Foskatt's head
turned slowly, as if that effort was almost too much.
Then his yellow eyes opened to their widest extent,
centered on the slit where Furtig fought to keep his
grip. For the first time Furtig realized that the other
probably could not see him through the opening. So
he called softly: "Foskatt—this is Furtig."

He could no longer hold on but slid back into the
tunnel, his body aching with the effort which had
kept him at that peephole. He took deep breaths,
fighting to slow the beating of his heart, while he
rubbed'his arms, his legs.

His tail twitched with relief as a very faint hiss
came in answer. That heartened him to another effort
to reach the slit. He knew he could not remain there
long, and perhaps not reach it at all a third time. If
Foskatt were only strong enough to—to what? Furtig
saw no way of getting his tribesman through that
hole. But perhaps the other could supply knowledge
which would lead Furtig to a better exit.

"Foskatt!" It was hard not to gasp with effort.
"How may I free you?"

"The caller of Gammage—" Foskatt's voice was
weak. He lay without raising his head. "The guard-
has-taken-it. They-wait-for-their-Elders—"

Furtig slipped down, knew he could not reach the
slit again. He leaned against the wall to consider what
he had heard. The caller of Gammage—and the Rat-
ton guard had it—whatever a caller might be. The
guard could only be outside the door of that cell.

He picked up his belt, unfastening the claws.
Now—if he could find a way out of this tunnel to that
door. It remained so slim a chance that he dared not
pin any hopes on it.

He stalked farther along the dark way. Again a thin
lacing of light led him to a grill. But this one was set
at an easier height, so he need not climb to it. He
looked through into a much larger chamber, which
was lighted by several glowing rods set in the ceiling.

To his right was a door, and before it Rations! The
first live ones he had ever seen so close.

They were little more than half his size if one did
not reckon in the length of their repulsive tails. One
of them had, indeed, a tail which was only a scarred
stump. He also had a great scar across his face which
had permanently closed one eye. He leaned against
the door gnawing at something he held in one paw-
hand.

His fellow was more intent on an object he held,
a band of shining metal on which was a cube of glitter-
ing stuff. He shook the band, held the cube to one ear.
Even across the space between them Furtig caught
the faint buzzing sound which issued from that cube.
And he guessed that-this must be Gammage's caller—
though how it might help to free Foskatt he had no
idea. Except he knew that the Ancestor had mastered
so much of Demon knowledge in the past that this de-
vice might just be as forceful in some strange way as
the claws were in ripping out a Ratton throat.

Furtig crowded against the grill, striving to see how
it was held in place, running his fingers across it with
care so as not to ring his weapon tips against it. He
could not work it too openly with Rations on guard to
hear—or scent—him.

The grill was covered with a coarse mesh. He twist-
ed at it now with the claw tips, and it bent when he
applied pressure. So far this was promising. Now Fur-
tig made the small chirruping sound with which a
hunter summons a mouse, waiting tensely and with
hope.

Three times he chirruped. There was a shadow ris-
ing at the screen. Furtig struck. Claws broke through
the mesh, caught deep in flesh and bone. There was a
muffled squeak. With his other hand Furtig tore
furiously at the remaining mesh, cleared an opening,
and wriggled through, hurling the dead Ration from
him.

On the floor lay the caller. The scarred guard had
fled. Furtig could hear his wild squealing, doubtless
sounding the alarm. It had been a tight fit, that push
through the torn mesh, and his skin had smarting
scratches. But he had made it, and now he caught up
the caller.

He almost dropped it again, for the band felt warm,
not cold as metal should. And the buzzing was louder.
How long did he have before that fleeing guard re-
turned with reinforcements?

Furtig, the caller against his chest, kicked aside the
bars sealing the door and rushed in. He reached Fos-
katt, hooked a claw in the other's bonds to cut them.
But seeing the extent of his tribesman's wounds, he
feared the future. It was plain that with that injury
Foskatt could not walk far.

"The caller—give it to me—" Foskatt stared at the
thing Furtig held. But when he tried to lift a hand it
moved like a half-dead thing, not answering his will,
and he gave an impatient cry.

"Touch it," he ordered. "There is a small hole on
the side, put your finger into that!"

"We must get away—there is no time," Furtig pro-
tested.

"Touch it!" Foskatt said louder. "It will get us out
of here."

"The warrior is mad," growled the other prisoner.
"He talks of a thing coming through the walls to save
him. You waste your time with him!"

"Touch it!"

Foskatt made no sense, yet Furtig found himself
turning the caller over to find the hole. It was there,
but when he tried to insert a finger, he discovered
that his digit was far too thick to enter. He was about
to try the tip of a claw when Foskatt batted clumsily
at his arm, those deep ridges in his flesh, cut by the
bonds, bleeding now.

"No—don't use metal! Hold it closer—hold it for
me!"

Furtig went to his knees as Foskatt struggled up.
Foskatt bent forward, opened his mouth, and put
forth his tongue, aiming its tip for the hole in the
cube.

51

Foskatt's head jerked as if that touch was painful,
but he persisted, holding his tongue with an effort
which was manifest throughout his body. At last, it
seemed, he could continue no longer. His head fell
back, and he rested his limp weight against Furtig's
shoulder, his eyes closed.

"You have wasted time," snarled the other prison-
er. "Do you leave us now to be meat, or do you give
•me a fighting chance?" There was no note of pleading
in his voice. Furtig had not expected any; it was not
in their breed to beg from a stranger. But he settled
Foskatt back, the caller beside him, and went to cut
the other's bonds.

When those were broken, he returned to Foskatt.
The stranger had been right. There was no chance of
escape through these burrows, which the Rattons
knew much better than he. He had wasted time. Yet
Foskatt's urgency had acted on him strongly.

The stranger whipped to the door. Even as he
reached it, Furtig could hear the squealing clamor of
gathering Rations. He had failed. The only result of
his attempt at rescue was that he had joined the other
two in captivity. But he had his claws at least, and
the Ratton forces would pay dearly for their food

when they came at him.

"Fool," hissed the stranger, showing his fangs.

"There is no way out now!"

Foskatt stirred. "The nimbler will come—"
His mutter, low as it was, reached the stranger, and
his snarl became a growl, aimed at them both.

"Rumbler! He has blatted of none else! But his
wits are wrong. There is no—"

What he would have added was forgotten as he
suddenly whirled and crouched before the door, his
bare hands raised. However, for some reason, the Rat-
tons did not rush the prisoners at once, as Furtig had
expected. Perhaps they were trying to work out some
method whereby they could subdue their captives
without undue loss on their part. If they knew the
People at all, they must also realize that the Rattons
on the first wave in would die.

Furtig listened, trying to gauge from sounds what
they were doing. He did not know what weapons the
Rations had besides those nature had given them.
But since they frequented the lairs, they might have
been as lucky as Gammage in discovering Demon se-
crets. Foskatt pushed at the floor, tried to raise him-
self. Furtig went to his aid.

"Be ready," his tribesman said. "The nimbler—
when it comes—we must be ready—"

His certainty that something was coming almost
convinced Furtig that the other knew what he was
talking about. But how that action of tongue to cube
could bring anything—

The stranger was busy at the door. He had pulled
some litter together, was striving to force into place
rusty metal rods as a bar lock. Even if that worked, it
could not save them for long, but any action helped.
Furtig went to aid him.

"This should slow them—a little—" the stranger
said as they finished as well as they could.

He turned then and padded across the room to
stand beneath the wall grill high overhead. "Where
does that lead? You were behind it when you sig-
nalled—"

"There is a tunnel there. But the opening is too
narrow."

The stranger had kept one of the pieces of metal,
too short to be a part of their barrier. Now he struck
that against the wall in a rasping blow. It did not
leave more than a streak of rust to mark its passage.
There was no beating their way through that wall.

He strode back and forth across the cell, his tail
lashing, uttering small growls, which now and then
approached the fury of battle yowls. Furtig knew the
same fear of being trapped. He flexed his fingers, test-
ed the strength of his claw fastenings. In his throat
rumbled an answering growl. Then the stranger came
to a halt before him, those blue eyes upon Furtig's
weapons.

"Be ready to cut the net with those." His words
had the force of an order.

"The net?"

"They toss nets to entangle one from a distance.
That was how they brought me down. They must
have taken your comrade in the same fashion. He was
already here when they dragged me in. It is only be-
cause they were awaiting their Elders that they did
not kill us at once. They spoke among themselves
much, but who can understand their vile cluttering?
One or two made signs—there was something they
wished to learn. And their suggestion"—the hair on
his tail was bushed now—"was that they would have
a painful way of asking. Die in battle when they
come, warrior, or face what is worse."

The Rattons were trying to force the door now.
How long would the barrier hold?

Furtig tensed, ready to face the inpour when the
weight of those outside would break through. Foskatt
pulled himself up, one hand closing upon the caller,
raising it to his ear. His eyes glowed.

"It comes! Gammage is right! The rumblers will
serve us! Stand ready—"

Then Furtig caught it also, a vibration creeping
through the stone flooring, echoing dully from the
walls about them. It was unlike anything he had ex-
perienced before, though it carried some tones of
storm thunder. It grew louder, outside the door, and
once more the enemy squealed in ragged chorus.

"Stand back—away—" Foskatt's husky whisper
barely reached Furtig. The stranger could not have
heard it, but, so warned, Furtig sprang, grasped the
other's arm, and pulled him to one side. The stranger
rounded on him with a cry of rage, until he saw Fos-
katt's warning gesture.

As if some supreme effort supplied strength, Fos-
katt was sitting up, the caller now at his mouth, his
tongue ready, extended as if he awaited some signal.

Then—there was a squealing from the Rattons
which became a hysterical screeching. These were not
battle cries but rather a response to fear, to a terrible,
overpowering fear.

Something struck against the wall with a force that
certainly the Rattons could not exert. Thudding
blows followed, so close on one another that the noise
became continuous. The door broke, pushed in, but
that was not all. Around its frame ran cracks in the
wall itself; small chunks flaked off.

Together Furtig and the stranger backed away. No
Ratton had sprung through the opening. The prison-
ers could see only a solid, dark surface there, as if an-
other wall had been erected beyond. Still those pon-
derous blows fell, more of the wall broke away.

Yet Foskatt, showing no signs of fear, watched this
as if it were what he expected. Then he spoke, raising
his voice so they could hear over the sounds of that
pounding.

"This is one of the Demons' servants from the old
days. It obeys my will through this." He indicated the
caller. "When it breaks through to us we must be
ready to mount on top. And it will carry us out of this
evil den. But we must be swift, for these servants
have a limit on their period of service. When this"—
again he brought the caller their notice—"ceases to
buzz, these servants die, and we cannot again awaken
them. Nor do we ever know how long that life will
last."

There was a sharp crash. Through the wall broke
what looked to be a long black arm. It swept around,
clearing the hole. Instantly, at its appearance, Fos-
katt thrust his tongue into the opening in the cube.

The arm stopped its sweeping, was still, as if pointing
directly to them. Behind it they could see the dark
bulk of the nimbler, solid as a wall.

"We must get on it—quick!" Foskatt tried to rise
but his weakened body failed him.

Furtig, at his side, turned to face the stranger.

"Help me!" He made that an order. The other hesi-
tated. He had been heading .for the break in the wall.
But now he turned back, though it was plain he came
reluctantly.

Together they raised Foskatt, though their han-
dling must have been a torment, for he let out a small
mewling cry at their touch. Then he was silent as they
somehow got him through the broken door, raised him
to the back of the boxlike thing.

It had more than one of those jutting arms, all of
them quiet now. And it was among their roots that
they settled their burden. How the thing had arrived
they could not determine, for they could see no legs.

But that it had come with ruthless determination
was plain by the crushed bodies of the Rations lying
here and there.

Once on top, Furtig looked to Foskatt. How did
they now bring to life this Demon rumbler? Would it
indeed carry them on?

"Brother!" Furtig bent over his tribesman. "What
do we do now?"

But Foskatt lay with closed eyes, and did not an-
swer. The stranger growled.

"He cannot tell you. Perhaps he is near death. At
least we are free of that hole. So—I shall make the
most of such freedom."

Before Furtig could hinder him, he jumped from
the top of the servant and ran in long leaping bounds
into the dimness beyond. But, greatly as he was
tempted to follow, the old belief that one ought not to
desert a tribesman held Furtig where he was.

He could hear distant squealing. More Rations
must be gathering ahead. Now he no longer believed
that the stranger had made the best choice. He could
well be heading into new captivity.

As would happen to them unless—Furtig pried at
Foskatt's hold on the caller. Tongue tip had gone in
there, and the servant had come. Again tongue tip,
and the rumbler had stopped beating down the walL
Therefore the caller ordered it. If that were so, why
could Furtig not command it now?

He brought it close to his mouth. How had Foskatt
done it? By some pressure like the sign language?
Furtig knew no code. All he was sure of was that he
wanted to get the rumbler away from here, back to
Gammage, if that was where it had come from.

Well, he could only try. Gingerly, not knowing
whether the caller might punish a stranger without
learning for attempting to use it, Furtig inserted his
tongue and tried to press. A sharp tingling sensation
followed, but he held steady.

There was an answering vibration in the box on
which he crouched. The arms pulled back from the
wall, and the thing began to move.

Furtig caught at Foskatt lest he be shaken loose as
the rumbler trundled back from the wall and slewed
around, so that the arms now pointed toward the bro-
ken door of the room.

They did not move fast, no faster than a walk, but
the rumbler never paused. And Furtig knew a new
feeling of power. He had commanded this thing! It
might not take them to Gammage as he wished it to
do, but at least it was bearing them away from the
Ratton prison, and he believed that those slinkers
would not dare to attack again as long as Foskatt and
he rode this servant.

Foskatt's warning of the uncertain life span of the
Demons' servants remained. But Furtig would not
worry about that now. He was willing to take what
good fortune was offered in the present.

They slid away from the light of the Ratton-held
chambers. But now the nimbler provided light of its
own. For two of those arms extended before it bore on
their ends small circles of radiance.

This was not a natural passage like the cave ways;

the Demons had built these walls. Furtig and the
wounded Foskatt rumbled past other doorways, twice
taking angled turns into new ways. It would seem
that for all the sky-reaching heights of the lairs
aboveground, there was a matching spread of pas-
sages beneath the surface.

Furtig's ears pricked. They had not outrun, proba-
bly could not outrun, pursuit. Behind he heard the
high-voiced battle cries of the Rattons. At least he
was well above their heads on the box and so had that
small advantage.

Hurriedly he used Foskatt's own belt to anchor him
to the arms of the rumbler, leaving himself free for
any defense tactics needed. With the claws on his
hands, he hunched to wait.

Strange smells here. Not only those natural to un-
derground places, but others he could not set name
to. Then the rumbler halted in front of what seemed a
blank wall, and Furtig speedily lost what small confi-
dence had carried him this far. They were going to be
trapped; all this servant of Gammage had bought
them was a little time.

But, though the rumbler had halted, its outthrust
arms moved. They were doing nothing Furtig could
understand, merely jerking up and down, shining
round spots of light on the wall here and there.

There was a dull grating sound. The wall itself split
in a wide crack, not such as those arms had beaten in
the prison wall, but clean, as if this was a portal
meant to behave in this fashion. As soon as the open-
ing was wide enough, the rumbler moved on into a
section which was again lighted. Furtig looked back;

the wall started to shut even as they passed through.
He gave a small sigh of relief as he saw the opening
close. At least no Ratton was coming through there!

But the rumbler no longer moved steadfastly; rath-
er it went slower and slower, finally stopping with its
arms curled back upon its body. Now it looked—
Furtig's woods-wise mind made the quick compari-
son—like a great black spider dying. When the nim-
bler ceased to Move he lifted the caller to his mouth,
readied his tongue. This time there was no tingling re-
sponse to his probing. It must be as Foskatt had
warned—the servant had died, if one might term it so.

There was light here, and they were in another cor-
ridor with numerous doors. Furtig hesitated for a long
moment and then dropped to the floor. Leaving Fos-
katt where he was, he went to the nearest opening to
look within.

The room was not empty. Most of the floor was
covered with metal boxes, firmly based. And there
was an acrid smell which made him sneeze and shake
his head to banish it from his nostrils. Nothing
moved, and his ears, fully alert, could not pick up the
slightest sound.

He returned to the nimbler. If that could not carry
them farther, and Foskatt could not be transported,
what was he to do? When he was the merest youngling,
he had learned the importance of memory patterns,
of learning the ways of the People's tribal hunting
grounds until those became a matter of subconscious
recall rather than conscious thinking. But here he had
no such pattern as a guide, he had only—

Furtig scrambled up to sit beside Foskatt. There
was one thing— If they had in truth been heading to-
ward Gammage's headquarters when this journey
began, he could try— He closed his eyes, set about
methodically to blank out the thought of what lay im-
mediately around him.

He must use his thoughts as if they were ears, eyes,
nose, to point to what he sought. This could be done,
had been done many times over, by some individuals
among the People. But Furtig had never been forced
to try it before.

He had never seen Gammage, but so well was the
Ancestor fixed in the mind of all who dwelt in the
caves, that he had heard him described many times
over. Now he tried to build in his mind a picture of
Gammage. And, because the Ancestor was who he was
and had been to his tribe a figure of awe and wonder
across several generations, doubtless that mind pic-
ture was different from the person it represented,
being greater than reality.

As he had never tried before, Furtig strove now to
think of Gammage, to discover where in the lairs he
could find this leader. So far—nothing. Perhaps he
was one of those for whom such searching did not
work. Each of the People had his own abilities, his
own weaknesses. When the People worked together,
one could supply what another lacked, but here Fur-
tig had only himself. Gammage—where was Gam-
mage?

It was, like picking out the slightest ripple in the
grass, hearing a sound so thin and far away that it
was not true sound at all but merely the alerting sug-
gestion of it. But a warm flush of triumph heated Fur-
tig. It was true—he had done it! That sense would
lead him now. Lead him. He opened his eyes to look
at Foskatt.

What of Foskatt? It was plain that the other could
not walk, nor could Furtig carry him. He could leave,
return later— But perhaps that wall which had
opened and closed was not the only entrance. One
dared not underrate the tenacity of the Rattons.
Long before Furtig could return with help, Foskatt
could be captive or dead.

Suppose that somewhere in one of these chambers
along this way he could find another of these servants,
one which could be activated? It would do no harm to
go and look, and it might be their only chance.

Furtig began the search. But he found himself mov-
ing slowly, needing to stop now and then to. lean
against the wall. All of a sudden, now that the excite-
ment of their escape had died, he needed rest. He fed
on some of the dried meat from Eu-La's bag. But it
was hard to choke down even a few mouthfuls of that
without water. And where was he going to find water?

Determinedly Furtig prowled among those metal
boxes set in the first chamber, finding nothing useful.
Stubbornly" he went on to explore the next room.

This was different in that it had tables, long ones,
and those tables were crowded with masses of things
he did not understand at all. He backed away from
one where the brush of his tail had knocked off a large
basin. The basin shattered on the floor, and the sound
of the crash was magnified a hundred times by echoes.

Furtig's startled jump almost brought him to disas-
ter. For he struck against what seemed a smaller
table, and that moved! He whirled around, expecting
an attack, snarling. The table went on until it
bumped against one of the larger tables.

Warily Furtig hooked his claws lightly about one of
its slender legs. Very cautiously he pulled the small
table back. It answered so readily, he was again star-
tled. Then he mastered surprise, and experimented.

The surface was high, he could barely touch the top
with his chin when he stood at his tallest. There was a
mass of brittle stuff lying across it, and when he tried
to investigate, it broke and powdered, so that he
swept it off, leaving a bare surface.

But he could move the table!

Pushing and pulling, he brought it out of the room,
back to the side of the rumbler. Luckily there was
only a short space between the two levels, the table
being a little lower. He was sure he could get Foskatt
from one to the other.

Blood was seeping again from the matted fur about
Foskatt's wound by the time Furtig had finished. He
settled the unconscious tribesman in the center of the
table, hoping he would not roll, as there was no an-
chorage here.

He fastened his belt to the two front legs of the
table and then slung the end over one shoulder. It was
a tight fit, the table bumping continually against his
back and legs, and if it had not rolled so easily he
could not have moved it. Resolutely he set out down
the corridor.

There were times following, which could have been
night and day, or day and night, since Furtig could no
longer measure time so here—times when he believed
that he could not go on. He would hunch down, the
table looming over him, breathing so hard it hurt his
lower ribs. His whole body was so devoted to pulling
the table that he was not really aware of anything
save that he had not yet reached the place to which
he must go.

On and on, and there was no end, from corridor to
room, across room, to another hall. The lights grew
brighter, the strange smells stronger. He was never
sure when the vibration in the walls began. It might
have started long before his dulled senses recorded it.
There was a feeling of life here ...

Furtig leaned against the wall. At least there was
no smell of Ratton. And they were still heading in the
right direction.

Then he really looked about him. The corridor
down which they had just come ended at a wall. And
if this was like the wall the servant had opened, well,
he did not have the ability to get through it. Leaving
the table, he shambled forward to examine it better.

What was happening to him? This was the bottom
of a shaft, much the same as the one he had fallen
down earlier. But now—he was going up! Gently, as if
the air itself was pushing him.

Frantically Furtig fought, managed to catch hold of
the shaft entrance and pull out of that upward cur-
rent. As he dropped to the ground, he was shaken out
of that half-stupor which had possessed him.

It was plain, as plain as such a marvel could be, that
here the shaft reversed the process of the other one.
And it was also plain that Gammage—or what his
search sense had fastened on as Gammage was above.

Would this mysterious upward current take the
table also? He could only try. Pulling, he got it into
the shaft. Foskatt's body stirred, drifting up from the
surface. So—it worked on him, but not on the table.
Wearily Furtig accepted that, kept his hold on his
tribesman as they began to rise together.

It took a long time, but Furtig, in his weariness, did
not protest that. He watched dully as they slid past
one opening and then another. Each must mark a dif-
ferent level of these vast underground ways, even as
the caves opened from two ledges. Up and up—

Four levels up and Furtig's search sense gave the
signal—this one! Towing the limp Foskatt, he made
swimming motions to take them to the opening. And
he had just enough strength to falter through, out of
the pull of the current, to the floor beyond.

He lay there beside Foskatt, panting, his sides and
back aching from his effort. What now? But he was
too worn out to face anything more—not now. And
that thought dimmed in his mind as his head fell for-
ward to rest on his crooked arm.

66

Furtig came out of sleep, aware even before he opened
his eyes that he was not alone. What he sniffed was
not the musky scent of Ratton, but rather the reas-
suring odor of his own kin. With that, another smell,
which brought him fully awake—food! And not the
dried rations of his traveling either.

He was lying on a pallet not unlike those of the
caves. And, waiting beside him, holding a bowl which
sent out that enticing fragrance, was a female he had
never seen before. She was remarkable enough to let
him know he was among strangers. And he gaped at
her in a way which should have brought her fur rising,
set her to a warning hiss.

Fur—that was it! Though she had a goodly show of
silky, silverly fur on her head and along her shoulders,
yet on the rest of her body it was reduced to the thin-
nest down, through which it was easy to see her skin.

And those hands holding the bowl—the fingers
were not stubby like his own but longer, thinner. Fur-
tig did not know whether he liked what he. saw of her,
he was only aware that she was different enough to
keep him staring like a stupid youngling.

"Eat—" She held the bowl closer. Her voice had a
to'ne of command. Also it was as different as her body
was from those he kn'ew.

Furtig took the bowl and found its contents had
been cut into easily handled strips. As he gnawed, and
the warm, restorative juices flowed down his throat,
he came fully to attention. The female had not left
and that disconcerted him again. Among the People
this was not the custom—the males had their portion
of the caves, the females another.

"You are Furtig of the Ancestor's cave—"

"How did you—"
"Know that? Did you not bring back Foskatt, who

knows you?"

"Foskatt!" For the first time since his waking Fur-
tig remembered his tribesman. "He is hurt—the Rat-
tons—"

"Hurt, yes. But he is now in the healing p^ace of

the Demons. We"—there was pride in her tone—
"have learned many of the Demons' secrets. They
could heal as well as kill. And every day we learn
more and more. If we are given the chance we shall
know all that they knew . . ."

"But not to use that knowledge to the same pur-
poses, Liliha."

Startled, Furtig looked beyond the female. The soft
tread of any of his race should not be entirely noise-
less, but he had been so intent he had not been aware
of a newcomer. And looking up—

"Famed Ancestor!" He set down the bowl with a
bump which nearly shook out what was left of its con-
tents, hastened to make the gesture of respect due the
greatest Elder of them all.

But to his pride (and a little discomfort, were the
full truth to be known), Gammage hunkered down by
him and touched noses in the full acceptance of the
People.

"You are Furtig, son of Fuffbr, son of Foru, son of
another Furtig who was son of my son," Gammage re-
cited as a true Elder, one trained to keep in memory
clan and tribe generations through the years. "Wel-
come to the lairs, warrior. It would seem that your in-
troduction here has been a harsh one."

Gammage was old"; the very descent lines he had
stated made him older than any Elder Furtig had
ever known. Yet there was something about him
which suggested vigor, though now perhaps more
vigor of mind than of body.

Like the female's fur, though she was clearly young
and not old, Gammage's body fur was sparse. And
that body was thin, showing more bony underlining
than padded muscle.

He wore not just the belt common to all the People
but a long piece of fabric fastened at his throat, flow-
ing back over his shoulders. This somehow gave him
added stature and dignity. He also had about his neck
a chain of shining metal links and from that hung a
cube not unlike the one Foskatt had carried. While
his hands—

Furtig's gaze lingered. Whoever had he seen among
the People with such hands! They were narrower, the
fingers longer and thinner even than those of the fe-

male. Yes, in all ways Gammage was even stranger
than the old tales made him.

"Eat now." Gammage gestured to the bowl. "With-
in the lairs we need all the strength food can give us.
Rattons"—his voice deepened to a growl—"Rations
establishing their own place here! Rattons attempting
to gain Demon knowledge! And so little time perhaps
before we shall be called upon to face the Demons
themselves." Now his voice became a growl without
words, the sound of one about to oner battle.

"But of that we can speak later. Furtig, what say
they of me now in the caves? Are they still of like
mind—that I speak as with the mindless babble of
the very young? The truth, warrior, the truth is of im-
portance!"

And such was the compelling force of the Ances-
tor's tone that Furtig answered with the truth.

"The Elders—Fal-Kan—they say that you plan to
give Demon secrets to strangers, even to the Barkers.
They call you—"

"Traitor to my kind?" Gammage's tail twitched.
"Perhaps in their narrow viewing I might be termed
so—now. But the day comes when the People, plus
the Barkers, plus the Tusked Ones, will have to stand
together or perish. Of the Rattons I do not speak
thus, for there is that in them akin to what I have
learned of the Demons. And when the Demons return,
the Rattens may run with them to overturn all our
lives."

"The Demons return?" Listening to the note of cer-
tainty in the Ancestor's voice made Furtig believe
that Gammage was sure of what he said. And if he
truly believed that, yes, would it not be better to

make truce even with Barkers against a common and
greater enemy?

"Time!" Gammage brought those odd hands of his
together in a clap to echo through the room. "Time is
our great need and we may not have it. We have so
many lesser needs, such as the one which took Fos-
katt into that section of the lairs we had not fully ex-
plored, seeking hidden records. But, though he did
not find what he sought, he has alerted us to this new
danger, a Ratton base on tfitTvery edge of our own
territory. Let the Rattons learn but this much"—
Gammage measured on between two fingers no more
than the width of one of them—"of what we have
found here, and they will make themselves masters,
not only of the lairs, but of the world beyond. Say
that to your Elders, Furtig, and perhaps you will find
they will listen, even though they willfully close their
ears to a worse threat."

"Foskatt was seeking something?"

Gammage had fallen silent, his eyes on the wall
beyond Furtig, as if he saw there something which
was as plain to be read as a hunting trail, and yet to
be dreaded.

"Foskatt?" Gammage repeated as if the name were
strange. Then once more his intent gaze focussed on
Furtig. "Foskatt—he was hardly handled, near to
ending, when you brought him back to us, warrior.
But now he heals. So great were the Demons—life
and death in their two hands. But they played games
with those powers as a youngling plays with sticks or
bright stones, games which have no meaning. Save
that when games are played as the Demons play
them, they have grim consequences.

"They could do wonderful things. We learn more
and more each day. They could actually make rain
fall as they pleased, keep the sun shining as they
would. There was no great cold where they ruled
and— But they were not satisfied with such, they
must do more, seeking the knowledge of death as well
as of life. And at last their own learning turned
against them."

"But if they are all dead, why then do you speak of
their return?" Furtig dared to ask. His initial awe, at
seeing Gammage had eased. It was like climbing a
mountain to find the way not so difficult as it had
looked from the lowlands. That Gammage could im-
press, he did not doubt. There was that about him
which was greater than the Elders. But he did not use
it consciously as they did to overawe younger tribes-
men.

"Not all died," Gammage said slowly. "But they
are not here. We have tracked them through this,
their last lair. When I first began that search we
found their bodies, or what was left of them. But once
we discovered the knowledge banks we also uncovered
evidence that some had withdrawn, that they would
come again. It was more concerning that second com-
ing that Foskatt sought. But you will leam, Furtig—
There is so much to learn—" Again Gammage gazed
at the wall, rubbing one hand on the other. "So much
to leam," he repeated. "More and more we uncover
Demon secrets. Give us time, just a little more time!"

"Which the Rations threaten now." Liliha broke
into the Ancestor's thoughts, amazing Furtig even
more. The fact that she had not withdrawn at Gam-
mage's arrival had surprised him. But that she would

speak so to the Ancestor, almost as if to an unles-
sonec1 youngling, bringing him back to face some mat-
ter which could not be avoided, was more startling
yet.

However Gammage appeared to accept her inter-
ruption as proper. For he nodded.

"True, Liliha, it is not well to forget today in con-
sidering tomorrow. I shall see you again and soon,
cave son. Liliha will show you this part of the lairs
which we have made our own."

He pulled the fabric tighter about him and was
gone with the speed of a warrior years younger. Fur-
tig put down the bowl and eyed the female uncertain-
ly.

It was plain that the customs of the caves did not
hold here in the lairs. Yet it made him uncomfortable
to be left alone with a Chooser.

"You are not of the caves," he ventured, not know-
ing just how one began speech with a strange female.

"True. I am of the lairs. I was born within these
walls."

That again amazed Furtig. For all his life he had
heard of warriors "going to Gammage," but not fe-
males. But that they carried on a normal manner of
life here was a minor shock. Until he realized the limit
of his preconceptions concerning Gammage's people.
Why should they not have a normal life? But whence
had come their females?

"Gammage draws more than just those of his own
tribe," she went on, as if reading his thoughts. "There
are others of the People, on the far side of the lairs,
distant from your caves. And over the seasons Gam-
mage has sent messengers to them also. Some listen
to him more closely than his blood kin seem to." Fur-
tig thought he detected in that remark the natural air
of superiority which a Chooser would use 'cm occasion
with a warrior.

"There is now a new tribe here, formed from those
of many different clans," she continued in the same
faintly superior tone. "It has been so since my moth-
er's mother's time. We who are born here, who leam
early the knowledge of the Demons, are different in
ways from those outside the lairs, even from those
who choose to join us here. In such ways as this do
the In-bom differ." She put forth her hand, holding it
in line with Furtig's. Not with their flesh making con-
tact, but side by side for comparison.

Her longer, more slender fingers, were in even
greater contrast when held against his. Now she wrig-
gled them as if taking pride in their appearance.

"These"—she waved her hand slightly—"are bet-
ter able to use Demon machines."

"And being born among those machines makes you
so?"

"Partly, Gammage thinks. But there are also places
the Demons use for healing, such as that in which Fos-
katt now lies; When a mother is about to bear her
younglings she is taken there to wait. Also, when she
first knows she has young within her, she goes to that
place and sits for a space. Then her young come forth
with changes. With hands such as these I can do
much that I could not do—"

She paused, and he finished for her, "With such as
mine." He remembered how he had used his tongue,
as had Foskatt, in the cube hole. Perhaps, had he had
fingers such as Liliha's, he need not have done that.

"Such as yours," she agreed evenly. "Now, Gam-
mage would have you see the lairs, so come.

"We have," she told him, "a thing to ride on. It
does not go outside this one lair, though we have tried
to make it do so. We cannot understand such limita-
tions. But here it is of service."

She brought forward something which moved more
swiftly than the rumbler on which they had ridden
out of the Ratton prison. But this was smaller and it
had two seats—so large Furtig was certain they had
been made to accommodate Demons, not People.

Liliha half crouched well to the front of one seat.
Leaning well forward, she clasped a bar in both hands.
He guessed that she was uncomfortable in such a
strained position, but she made no complaint, only
waited until he climbed into the other seat.

Then she drew the bar back toward her. With that
the carrier came to life, moved forward smoothly and
swiftly.

That there was need for such a conveyance became
clear as they swept ahead. And things which astound-
ed Furtig at first became commonplace as he saw
other and more awesome ones succeed them. Some,
Liliha told him, they did not understand and had
found no way to use—though teams of workers, spe-
cially trained by Gammage, and at intervals under his
personal supervision, still tried to solve such prob-
lems.

But the learning machines, those Gammage had
early activated. And the food for them was contained
in narrow disks wound with tape. When Liliha fitted
one of these into a box and pressed certain buttons, a
series of pictures appeared on the wall before them.

While out of the air came a voice speaking in a
strange tongue. Furtig could not even reproduce most
of the sounds.

However, there was another thing, too large to wear
comfortably, which Furtig put on his head. This had
small buttons to be fitted into the ears. When that
was done, the words became plain, though some had
no meaning. One watched the pictures and listened to
the words and one learned. After a while, Furtig was
told, he would not need the translator but would be
able to understand without it.

Furtig was excited as he had not been since he had
forced himself to face up to the Trials, knowing well
he might lose. Only this time it was an excitement of
triumph and not of determination to meet defeat.
Given time (now he could understand Gammage's
preoccupation with time in a way no cave dweller
could) one could leam all the Demons' secrets!

He would have liked to have lingered there. But the
chamber was occupied by Gammage's people, one of
whom Liliha had persuaded to allow Furtig to sample
the machine, and they were plainly impatient to get
along with their work. Perhaps they had allowed such
an interruption at all only because Furtig had been
sent by Gammage.

For Furtig was nqt finding the warriors here friend-
ly. They did not show the wary suspicion of strange
tribesmen. No, this was more the impatience of an
Elder with a youngling—a none-too-bright youngling.
Furtig found that attitude hard for his pride to swal-
low.

Most of these Workers displayed the same bodily
differences—the slender hands, the lessening of body

fur—as Liliha. But there were a few among them not
different, save in coloring, from himself, and they
were as impatient as their fellows.

Furtig tried to ignore the attitude of the workers,
think only of what they were doing. But after a space,
that, too, was sobering and disappointing. He, who
was a trained warrior, a hunter of some note, an ac-
cepted defender of the caves (a status which had
given him pride), was here a nothing. And the result
of his tour with Liliha was a depression and the half-
thought that he had much better return to his own
kind.

Until they reached Foskatt. They stood in an outer
room and looked through a wall (for it was the truth
that here you could see through certain walls). With-
in was a pallet and on it lay the tribesman.

The lighting in the room differed from that where
Furtig stood with Liliha. Also it rippled just as wind
rippled field grass. Furtig could find no explanation of
what he saw there. There was light, and it moved in
waves washing back and forth across Foskatt.

The wounded warrior's eyes were closed. His chest
rose and fell as if he slept, rested comfortably without
pain or dreams. His wounded leg was no longer
bloody, the fur matted with clots. A scar had begun to
form over the slash.

Furtig, knowing how it might have gone had Fos-
katt lain so in the caves, how many died from lesser
wounds in spite of the best tending their clanspeople
could give them, drew a long breath. It was but one
more of the wonders he had been shown, yet to him,
because he could best appreciate the results, it was
one of the most awesome.

"This can be done for the coughing sickness?" he
asked. He had set his two hands flat on the surface of
that see-through wall, pushed so close even his nose
touched it.

"This can be done for any illness," Liliha told him,
"as well as most hurts. There is only one it cannot
cure so."

"That being?" A certain shading of her voice had
made him turn his head to look at her. For the first
time he could see uneasiness in her expression, the su-
periority gone.

"Gammage found a thing of the Demons. It spouts
a mist—and when that meets flesh—" She shuddered.
"It is the worst handwork of the Demons we have
seen. There is no halting what happens to one unfor-
tunate enough to be caught in the mist." She shivered
again. "It is not even to be thought upon! Gammage
had it destroyed!"

"Ah, and what do you think now of the lairs. Fur-
tig?"

Gammage stood behind them. His sudden appear-
ances—how did the Ancestor manage thus to arrive
without warning?

"They are full of marvels."

"Marvels upon marvels," the Ancestor agreed.
"And we have hardly touched the edge of what is
stored here! Given time, just given time—" Once
more he stared at the wall, as if his thoughts set a
barrier between him and those he addressed.

"What I do not understand"—Furtig dared now to
break in upon that withdrawal—"is why, when the
Demons knew so much, they came to such an end."

Gammage looked at him, his gray frost-furred face
alight.

"It was because they were greedy; They took and
took, from the air, the earth, the water. And when
they realized that they had taken too much and tried
•to return it, they were too late. Some went—we can-
not yet read their records well enough to know how or
where. They seem to have flown into the sky—"

"Like birds? But they were not winged, were they?
Those I have seen represented..."

"Just so," Gammage agreed briskly. "But we have
good evidence that they had some means of flight. So,
a number of them flew away. Of those who were left—
well, it seems that they worked very hard and fast to
find some way of restoring the land. One of their at-
tempted remedies became instead their doom. We
have found two records of that.

"What developed was an illness like our coughing
sickness. Some it killed at once. Others—it altered
their minds so they became like those Barkers who
foam at the mouth and tear madly at their own kin.
But with all it had one sure effect: They bore no more
younglings.

"Also—" Gammage hesitated as if what he would
say now was an important thing, a wise utterance of
an Elder. "This sickness had another effect. For it
made us, the People, the Barkers, the Tusked Ones,
even the Rattons, what we are.

"This is the thing we have learned, Furtig. We were
once like the rabbits, the deer, the wild cattle we hunt
for food. But we had some contact with the Demons.
There is good evidence that some of us lived with
them here in the lairs, and that"—his voice grew

deeper, closer to a warrior's growl—"that they used
us to try out their discoveries, so we were their ser-
vants to be used, killed, hurt, or maimed at their will.

"But it was because of this that we grew in our
minds—as the Demons dwindled and died. For they
forced on us their fatal sickness, trying to discover
some cure. But us it did not slay nor render sterile.
Instead, though our females had fewer younglings,
those younglings were different, abler in ways.

"And the Demons, learning too late that they had
set those they considered lowly servants on a trail
which would lead those servants to walk as their
equals, tried then to hunt them down and slay them,
since they wished not that we should live when they
died. But many escaped from the lairs, and those were
our forefathers, and those of the Barkers, and the
Tusked Ones.

"The Rattons went underground, and because "they
were much smaller, even than they are today, they
could hide where the Demons could not find them.
And they lived in the dark, waiting, breeding their
warriors.

"The hunting of our people by the Demons was a
time of great pain and terror and darkness. And it set
in us a fear of the lairs, so great a fear that it kept our
people away, even when the last Demon met death.
That was a disservice to us, for it cost us time. And
even now, when I send to the tribes and tell them of
the wonders waiting them here, few conquer their
fears and come."

"But if we leam the Demon's knowledge," asked
Furtig slowly, "will not all their evil learning perhaps
be mixed with the good, so that in the end we will go
the same way?"

"Can we ever forget what happened to them? Look
about you, Furtig. Is there forgetting here? No, we
can accept the .good, remembering always that we
must not say 'I am mightier than the world which
holds me, it is mine to be used as I please!' "

What Gammage said was exciting. But, Furtig
wondered, would it awake the same excitement in,
say, such an Elder as Fal-Kan? The People of the
caves, of the western tribe, were well content with life
as it was. They had their customs, and a warrior did
this or that, spoke thus, even as his father before him.
A female became a Chooser and set up her own house-
hold, even as her mother. Ask them to break such pat-
terns and be as these of Gammage's clan, who paid
more attention to learning the ways of Demons than
to custom? He could foresee a greater difficulty than
Gammage could imagine in that. Look at what the
Elders now said of the Ancestor, in spite of his years
of free giving, because he had tried to breach custom
in a few of their ways.




While he was with Gammage, listening to the Ances-
tor, in^vardly marveling at the fact that it was be-
cause of the will and curiosity of this single member
of his own cave that the lairs had been invaded, that
its secrets were being pried open, Furtig could believe
that this Elder was right. Nothing mattered save that
they leam, and learn in a race against time with some
invisible enemy who might at any moment arrive to
do battle. And that the only weapons which would ad-
equately protect them were those they still sought in
that time race.

However, Furtig's own part was not only insignifi-
cant but humiliating. For he, a seasoned warrior,
must return to the status of youngling, studying with
those half his age, even less. For learning here did not
go by seasons reckoned from one's birth, but rather
by the speed with which one absorbed lessons in the
instruction rooms.

He wore that ill-fitting headgear until his head

ached. So equipped, he watched pictures ffit across
the wall, listened to that gabble of voice wherein
about every third word had no meaning for a hunter-
warrior. And those in the room sharing these periods
of instruction were all so young!

The air of superiority worn by the lair people
chilled him, seemed to erect an unscalable barrier.
The adults Furtig dealt with were curt, always hur-
ried. If they had any leisure, they spent it in some
section to which he had not been invited. None were
interested in Furtig as an individual, but merely as
another mind to be pushed and pulled through learn-
ing.

His resentment grew, coloring what he learned.
Though at times there were things so interesting he
forgot his frustrations and became genuinely
enthralled. He was especially fascinated with the
series dealing with the latter days of the Demons—
though why they had wished to leave such a sorry
record, save as a warning, he could not understand.

He learned to hate as he had never hated the Bark-
ers, though his detestation of the Rattons ap-
proached it, when he saw those sections dealing with
the hunting down of his own people after they had
not only proven to be able to withstand the disease
wiping out the Demons, but had benefited in some
ways from it. The ferocity of the Demons was a red
madness, and Furtig, watching them, broke into
growls, lashed his tail, and twice struck out at the pic-
tured Demons with his war claws. He came to himself
to see the younglings cowering away from him, star-
ing as if the horrible madness of the Demons had
spread to him. But he was not ashamed of his re-
sponse. It was so that any warrior would face the
enemy.

During this time he saw nothing of Liliha. And only
once or twice did Gammage make one of his sudden
appearances, ask a little vaguely if all were well, and
go again.

Furtig longed to ask questions, but there was no
one who showed enough awareness of his presence to
allow him to do so. What did they all do? Had any-
thing at all been discovered to hold off any Demons
who might return? What and what and what—and
sometimes who and who and who? Only there was no
one he could approach.

Not until one day when he returned to his own
chamber, that in which he had first awakened and
which apparently had been given to him (the lairs
were so large there was no end to the rooms to be
used), and found Foskatt sitting on his bed.

It was like meeting a cave brother—so Furtig
thought of the other now.

"You are healed?" He really did not need to ask
that. There was only the faintest trace of a scar seam,
hardly to be seen now, where mangled flesh had once
oozed blood.

"Well healed." Foskatt's upper lip wrinkled in a
wide grin. "Tell me, brother, how did you get me
here? They say that we were found at the door of a
rise shaft. But I know from my own hunting in the
ways below that we were far from that when we had
our last speech together. And what became of that
Ku-La, who was with us in the stinking Ratton pen?"

Furtig explained the break-through of the rumbler.
Foskatt nodded impatiently. "That I know. But how
did you control it? I must have gone into darkness
then."

"I did as you did, used my tongue in the cube,"
Furtig replied. "We put you on the top of the rumbler
and it carried us—but the stranger you nam" Ku-La
would not come. He went on his own. And since the
Rattons were everywhere"—Furtig gave a tail flick—
"I do not believe he made it."

"A pity. He would have been a useful contact with
a new tribe. But if you used the caller—how did you?
Touch starts the servants, yes, but you would not
know the proper touch for a command."

"I put in my tongue and it started," Furtig repeat-
ed. "I gave no command—"

"But what did you think when you did that?" Fos-
katt persisted.

"Of Gammage and the need for reaching him."

"Just so!" Foskatt got to his feet and began to
stride up and down. "It is as I suspected—one
touches, but it is not the touch alone as they have
said, the pressure once, twice, and all the rest they
would have us leam. It is the thought which directs
those! For you have proved that. You knew no touch
pattern, you merely thought of where you would like
to be—and it traveled for you!"

"Until it died," commented Furtig, "which it did."

"But if it died, how then did you have any guide
through the ways?" Foskatt halted, stared at Furtig.

"I—" Furtig tried to find the proper words. "I tried
hunting search—"

"The person tie!" Foskatt's eyes grew even wider.
"But you did not know Gammage, had no tie with
him."

"None except that I am of his blood kin in direct
descent," Furtig agreed. "I do not know how I was
able to do this thing, but I did. Had I not, neither one
of us would be standing here now." He added to his
tale the finding of the moving table, their arrival at
the shaft, rising to the right level via that.

"Has Gammage heard this?" demanded Foskatt
when he had done.

"No one has asked how we got here. They probably
think you played guide." For the first time Furtig re-
alized this. He had been overwhelmed by the wonders
of the lairs, yet no one had asked him questions in re-
turn.

"But he must be told! Only a few of us can so de-
pend upon hunting search." Foskatt's moving tail be-
trayed his excitement. "And never have I heard of a
case wherein it could be used if the two involved were
not close. This may mean that there are other
changes in us, ones which are important." He started
for the door as if to hunt immediately for Gammage.
Furtig moved to intercept him.

"Not yet. Not until we are sure."

"Why not? Gammage must hear, must test—"

"No!" That was almost a warning growl. "In this
place I am a youngling, fit only for lessoning with
those still warm from their mothers' nests. If I claim
some talent I do not have, then I shall be rated even
less. And that I will not have!"

"So once did I believe also," Foskatt answered.
"But all that matters is learning something to add to
the knowledge of all."

Now it was Furtig's turn to stare, for it seemed
Foskatt meant that. Of course a warrior stood ready

to defend his home cave. But, except when pressed by
battle, a warrior was concerned not with others but
with himself, his pride. And to keep that pride, those
who lost at the Trials wandered. If he had not done so
himself, he would have been less than an untried
youngling in the eyes of his own clan. Yet now Fos-
katt calmly said that he must risk the jeers of strang-
ers for no good reason—for to Furtig the reason he of-
fered was far from good.

"Do you think I was welcomed here, by any but
Gammage?" Foskatt asked then. "To stand as a war-
rior in the lairs one must have something to give
which others recognize as worthy of notice. And since
the In-born have always had the advantage, that is
difficult. It is a Trial in another fashion from our
own."

"How did you then impress them with your
worth?"

"By doing what I was doing when the Rattons took
me. It would seem that the gain of one kind of knowl-
edge is sometimes balanced by the loss of another.
How learned you the hunting lands of the caves,

brother?"

"By running them, putting them in my mind so I
could find them day or night."

"Yes, we have a place here"—Foskatt tapped his
forehead with one stub finger—"to store that knowl-
edge. Having once traveled a path we do not mistake
it again. But the In-bom, they do not possess so exact
a sense of direction. If they go exploring they must
mark that trail so that they will know it again. And
with the Rattons invading, that is the last thing we
want, trails to direct the enemy into our territory.

Therefore we who have not lost that inner sense of
homing, we do the scouting. Look you, Furtig, do you
not see that you haye something more of benefit even
than that which is common to all of us? If we can find
out how you are able to fix upon one you have never
seen, use him as a guide, then we shall be even more
free to explore."

"Free to face Rattons? You can trace them by the
stink alone."

"Rattans, no. Any one of us could spy upon Rat-
tons. Nor does that duty need us going on two feet or
four, or will soon. For the In-born have recently found
another device of the Demons which moves through
the air—though it has no wings. As it moves so it
gathers pictures of what lies beneath it and sends
those back to be viewed at a distance—"

"If Gammage has such a thing, why did he not use
it to see you taken by the Rations and come to your
aid?" Furtig interrupted. He had seen many marvels
here, but the idea of a flying picture taker— Only,
Foskatt was not making up a tale for younglings; it
was plain he meant every word.

"For two reasons. First it has not been tested to the
full. Second, it is again as with the other servants;

these spy boxes fly only for a short space. Then they
ground and there is nothing to be done to get them
aloft again. Either the Demons had some way of in-
fusing life into them at intervals, or they have grown
too old to be trusted.

"But what I went to find was knowledge. You have
seen the disks of tape which are fed into the learning
machines. It is from these that Gammage and others

have learned all they know about the machines and
secrets of the Demons.

"However these disks are not stored in one place.
We have found them here, there, in many places.
Though why the Demons scattered them about so is a
mystery. Gammage has a theory that all of one kind
of learning was kept together, then the kinds sepa-
rate. A little time ago he found what may be a guide
to locate several different stores, but that was guess-
ing. Much we leam here must be connected by guess-
ing. Even when we hear the Demons' words, we know
only perhaps half of them. Others, even though many
times repeated, we are not sure of. When we can add a
new word, be sure of its meaning, it is a time of joy.

"It has long been Gammage's hope that if we un-
cover all the tapes, use them together, we can leam
enough to run all the servants of the Demons without
the failures that now make them unreliable. And with
such servants, is there any limit to what we may do?"

"Some, perhaps," Furtig said. "Did the Demons
not think that once also? And they were limited in
the end. Or so it seems."

"Yes, there is that danger. Still—what if the De-
mons return, and we are again their playthings—as
we were before? Do you wish that, brother?"

"Playthings?"

"So they have not shown you that tape yet?" Fos-
katt's tail twitched. "Yes, brother, that we were—
playthings of the Demons. Before the time when they
began to use us in other ways—to learn from our tor-
ments of body what some of their discoveries would do
to living creatures. Do you wish those days to re-
turn?"

"But this feeling Gammage has, that they will re-
turn—why is he so sure?"

"At the centermost point in the lairs there is a de-
vice we cannot begin to understand. But it is sending
forth a call. This goes to the skies. We have tried to
destroy it, but it is safeguarded too well to let us near.
And it has been going so since the last Demon died.

"We have discovered the records of those Demons
who took to flight when the last days came. If they
escaped the disease which finished their tribe here,
then that device may call them back."

So serious was Foskatt's tone that Furtig's ears
flattened a little to his skull, his spine fur ridged. As
Gammage had the power to enthrall when one lis-
tened to him, so did Foskatt now impress his compan-
ion with his conviction of this truth.

"But Gammage believes that if he has the Demons'
own knowledge he can withstand them?"

"It will be a better chance for us. Which would you
choose to be in battle, a warrior with claws or without?
For weapons support one at such times. Thus we seek
all these stores of disks to learn and learn. It may be
even the next one we find which will teach us how to
keep the servants running. But, as I said, Gammage
thought he had heard such a store place described,
and I went to seek it. The Rations took me. They
work with traps, brother, most cunningly. Since it was
not known they were in that part of the lairs, I was
taken. Nor can I hold my head high, for I was think-
ing more of what I hunted than the territory I moved
through. So I suffered from my own carelessness, and
would have paid full price if you had not come."

"But you would go again?"

"I will go again when I am needed. Now do you see,
Furtig, what we have to offer here? We can be the seek-
ers, using all the craft of the caves. And if it happens
that you have something to better that seeking—"

Furtig remained unconvinced. "Not until I have
proven it for myself," he repeated stubbornly.

"Prove it then!" Foskatt retorted.

"How can I? If I trail through Gammage again,"
Furtig pointed out, "then I am doing no more than
our people have always been able to do."

"Not all our people. You know that well. It is a tal-
ent which varies."

"But it is not uncommon. I could fasten on you, on
Gammage—and it would not be extraordinary. You
found my sensing strange because I used the Ancestor
when I had never seen him."

Foskatt limped a little as he strode back and forth,
as if his wound plagued him somewhat. Now he sat
down on the bed place.

"Let me tell Gammage, or better still, tell him
yourself. Then perhaps he can see a way to test
this—"

"I will think about it." Furtig held stubbornly to
his own will. He was interested by all Foskatt had
told him, impressed by the other's belief in the Ances-
tor and what he was doing here. But he wanted a
chance to prove to himself that he need not fear the
scorn of the In-bom before making a bold claim.

"Did you know really what you sought when you
fell into the Ratton trap?"

"A secret place holding learning tapes—but this,
Gammage thought, was larger than most by the refer-
ence to it which he had discovered. He wanted to find

more dealing with the skyward-call. We had avoided
that section, for twice we lost warriors to the protec-
tive devices of the Demons. Only at this new hint of
the store place Gammage asked for volunteers, and I
said I would go. For we of the caves have keener
senses to detect what may lie in wait in places of
danger. I was passing through what we thought a safe
section when I was entrapped."

Foskatt seemed convinced that the cave-born had
certain advantages over the In-bom. Or did he cling
to that thought because he, too, smarted from the su-
perior airs of the In-born? Was he convinced, or had
he convinced himself? It did not matter; Furtig was
not going to put himself on trial until he could prove
that he had something to offer. Though it seemed
that Foskatt's story contained a clue as to how he
might do so.

"How close were you to this place you hunted when
the Rattons took you?"

"Some distance. I was taking a circle trail because
I was not sure of Demon traps. Part of the first ways
fell in with a loud noise when I tried to reach the sig-
nal."

"Closing off that section of the passage?"

"No, only the main trail. Look—"

From his belt pouch Foskatt brought out a slender
stick. Its point, drawn along the floor, left a black line
easy to see. With quick marks and explanations, he
began to show Furtig the sweep of the underground
ways. Though Furtig had never seen such a way of
displaying a trail before, he grasped the advantages of
this and commented on them.

"But this writing stick is nothing! Wait until you
see—no, better—come and see!"

He put the stick away, scrambled up, and made for
the door. Furtig, drawn along by his enthusiasm, fol-
lowed Foskatt to his quarters.

Those were indeed different from the bare room in
which Furtig had made his home since coming to the
lairs. Here were two tables, their tops well burdened
by masses of things Furtig was unable to sort out in
the single glance or two he had time for before Foskatt
drew him to the bed place, pushed him down to sit,
and caught up a small box.

This was about as large as his two fists set together,
and he pointed it at the wall. As with learning devices
there appeared a picture there, but this was a series of
lines only. However, after a long moment of study
Furtig began to recognize a resemblance between
them and the ones Foskatt had drawn.

Foskatt wedged the box steady beside Furtig on
the bed and then went to stand by the picture, thrust-
ing his hand into it as he explained.

"We are here now!" An emphatic scrape of claw on
the wall distorted the picture. Beginning so, he
launched into a description of this corridor and that,
up and down.

"If you have such as this," Furtig asked when he
was done, "why do you need to search out these new
trails in person?"

"Because these"—Foskatt came back and gave the
box a tap and the picture disappeared—"are limited
in what they show—each one portrays only a small
section of the lairs. And if you cannot find the right
box you have no guide."

"All this—" Furtig.pointed to the mass of things on
the tables. "What have you here?"

"Many things of worth for a scout. See, with this,
one can carry food which is hot, and later open it and
find the food still hot."

He turned a thick rod around in his hands. It split
in two neatly.

"Food hot? But why should food be hot?"
"Wait and see!"

Foskatt put down the two pieces of rod and went to
another box, much larger than that which had given
the wall pictures. He took up a bowl in which Furtig
could see a strip of meat, scooped the meat out,
placed it within a mouth opening on the box, and
snapped the opening shut.

Within seconds Furtig sniffed such an odor as he
had never smelled before. It was enticing and his
mouth watered. Before he knew it he had given one of
the small mews a youngling utters when he sees a
filled food bowl. And, startled, he was ashamed.

Foskatt might hot have heard. He opened once
more the mouth of the box. The meat he took out was
now brown and the odor from it was such that Furtig
had to force himself to sit quietly until his tribesman
offered it to him. It tasted as it looked, different from
any meat he had ever mouthed, but very good.

"It is cooked," Foskatt said. "The Demons did so
to all their food. When it is so treated and put into
carrying things such as these"—he picked up the rod
again—"then it does not turn bad for a long time.
One can carry it and find it as hot as when it came
from the cooker. Then there is this—" He picked up a
band which went around his middle like a belt. It had
been rather clumsily altered to fit Foskatt, and at the
front was a round thing which, at his touch, blazed

with light.

"This can be worn in a dark place to make light."

There seemed to be no end to Foskatt's store of
Demon-made treasures. There were slender, pointed
rods one could use for a multitude of purposes. Some-
thing he called a knife—like a single straight claw
mounted on a stick—which cut cleanly.

In fact Furtig was shown so many different devices
so hurriedly that he lost count, and it all became just
a whirling mass of strange but highly intriguing ob-
jects.

"Where got you all these?"

"When I go seeking new trails I bring back things
small enough to carry. Sometimes I can see their use
at once. Other times I turn them over to others for
study. Now here—"

Another box. This time at his touch no picture ap-
peared on the wall, but a portion of its lid rolled back
and within—!

Furtig did not muffle his hiss of astonishment.

It was as if he were very tall, taller than the lairs,
and stood looking down into a part of the country
near the caves. Animals moved there, he recognized
deer. But they were not moving as the wall pictures
moved, rather as if they lived as very tiny creatures
within the box. Furtig put out a finger—there was an
invisible cover, he could not touch.

"They are—alive?" He could not believe that this
was so. Yet the illusion of reality was so great he still
had doubts that such a thing could be if it were not
real.

"No, they do not live. And sometimes the picture
changes and becomes— Watch!" Foskatt's explana-
tion ended in a sudden exclamation.

The world within the box was hidden in a gathering
fog. Then that cleared and — Furtig began to shout:

"The caves! There is Fal-Kan and San-Lo. It is the
caves!"

97




r

When Furtig glanced around Foskatt was not watch-
I   ing him, but staring at the cave scene as if he, too,
1  found it astounding. Then Foskatt's hand shot out,

his fingers tightened about Furtig's arm.
'     "Think," was his order. "Think of some particular
j   place—or person—and look at this while you do so!"
',     Just what he meant Furtig could not understand.
But when he heard the urgent tone in the other's
voice he did not mistake its importance. Obediently
he looked at the box—though what he should "think"
about momentarily baffled him.

The scene of the tiny world was again obscured
with the fog, the caves hidden. Then—just why he
did not know—a mind picture of Eu-La as she had
watched him leave on this venture came to him from
memory.

Mist cleared, revealing a small rise north of the
caves. But that was not quite the scene he remem-
bered. Somehow small differences were vivid: more

leaves had drifted from the trees, a patch of silver

frost was on the grasses.

Then a figure climbed to stand, facing him. Eu-La,
but not as he had seen her last. Again certain subtle
differences marked the passage of time. Furtig had a
jog of guilty memory when he thought of how she had
asked him to speak for her to the Ancestor and of
how, until now, he had forgotten. He must do that for

her as soon as possible.

She shaded her eyes with her hands as if she stood
in the full glare of the sun. No, this was no memory
picture which Furtig was in some manner projecting
into the box. It was independent of any memory of

his.

"Who is she?" Foskatt demanded.

"Eu-La, who is of the Ancestor's cave kin. She is
daughter to the sister of my mother, but much
younger than I. At the next Trial of Skill she may go
forth to another cave. Alone among the People she
wished me well when I came to Gammage."

Mist once again, hiding Eu-La. When it faded,
there was nothing inside, only empty dark. Furtig
turned almost savagely upon his companion. He felt
now as if he had been made the butt of some game in
which he did not know the rules and so appeared stu-
pid.

"What is this thing? Why does it make me see Eu-
La and the caves when we are far off?"

Again Foskatt paced up and down, his tail swing-
ing, his whole attitude that of a warrior disturbed in

his mind.

"You have again proved, brother, that you have
something new to our knowledge, though these lairs
are full of things always new to us. That box has
shown many pictures from time to time. At other
times it is dark and empty as you now see it. I have
looked upon the caves through it, seen distant kin of
mine as I remember them. Only now you were able to
summon, yes, summon, one person and see her per-
haps as she lives and moves at this very hour! This is
perhaps allied to that talent which guided you to the
Ancestor. Do you understand? If we can use these"
—he gestured to the box—"and see by only thinking
of a person or thing we would look upon—"

He paused, his eyes agleam, and Furtig thought
that now he was caught by a new idea.

"Listen, brother—look now at this and think of
learning disks!"

Furtig thought of such disks as he had seen fed into
the learning machines.

Straightaway a small picture, though dim, blurred,
and fuzzed, came into view. There was the learning
room in which Furtig had spent such weary hours.
Two of the yqunglings were wearing the head bands,
and Liliha tended the machine into which the disks
were fed.

They saw the room for only a moment or two. Then
it blurred and was gone. Nor could Furtig bring it
back.

He said as much. But Foskatt did not appear too

disappointed.

"It does not matter. Perhaps you are not so famil-
iar with the disks. But what does matter is that you
could do this. Do you not see? If we can learn your se-
cret, such boxes as these will keep us in contact with
one another though we are apart. What would scouts
net o to have such devices!"

What it would mean as an aid in hunting was im-
mediatelv plain. If the caves could be so equipped,
one would never have to fear a surprise attack from a
Barker. Scouts in the field could send in early alarms.
Or perhaps the boxes could even be hidden and
watched from the caves without the need to use
scouts! Furtig's thoughts leaped from one possibility
to the next, and his excitement grew.

"It may be that only you have such a talent, broth-
er," Foskatt said, interrupting Furtig's line of
thought. "Unless this is a thing which can be learned.
But the Ancestor must know of it—come!"

Seizing the box, Foskatt herded his companion
out of the chamber. They tramped along corridors
Furtig remembered from his first tour, coming to one
of those shafts where air could so remarkably carry
one up or down. Liliha had earlier admitted that the
People had never been able to discover what particu-
lar device of the Demons governed this. But their
workings had been discovered by Gammage on his
first penetration of the lairs when he had fallen into
one. And they were now accepted by his clan as
matter-of-factly as the cave people would accept a
trail.

So borne aloft, they went past three more levels,
emerging in a place which startled Furtig, though
with all he had seen in the past few days his ability to
be surprised should by now have been dulled. They
appeared now to be standing on a ledge with one side
open to the sky. There was such a sensation of height

102

BREED TO <:OME

as to make Furtig crowd back against the stone wall,
avoiding that open space.

"There is a wall there, though it cannot be seen."
Foskatt must have sensed his unease. "See here,
brother." He walked calmly to the far edge, raised one
hand, and rapped against an unseen surface.

As Furtig observed more closely, he sighted here
and there smears on that transparent covering. More
than a little abashed at his display of timidity, he
made himself join Foskatt and look out, fighting the
strong feeling that he was standing on the edge of a
drop.

They were far above the ground level here. A strong
morning sun, which awoke points of glitter from the
sides of many of the upward-shooting towers, beamed
warmly at them. Furtig stared in wonder. From the
ground level he had marveled at the height of the
lairs. But from this vantage point he could see even
more. He had had little idea of the extent of the
buildings before. They seemed to go on and on forev-
er. Even in the far distance there was a hint of more.
Had the Demons covered most of this part of the
world with their buildings?

"Come—later you can climb higher if you wish, see
more. But now is the time to tell Gammage this new
thing."

Foskatt set off at a bold stride. In spite of his
knowledge of the invisible wall, Furtig kept a path
closer to the building. They rounded a curve. From
this angle he could see a green shading which could
only be trees at a distance. It was as if in that direc-
tion the lairs narrowed and one could sight open
country beyond.

The corridor ended in a bridge connecting two of
the towers. Foskatt trotted out on this as one who has
made the journey-many times. Furtig, in spite of his
discomfort, paced close behind, keeping his attention
focussed strictly on the path ahead, glancing neither
right nor left.

He had always thought that heights did not bother
him—nor had they in the cave world. But this was
not that natural world, and now, his body tense, he
hurried until he was almost treading on his compan-
ion's heels in his eagerness to get to the solid security
of the building ahead.

This time their way was not invisibly walled; in-
stead they were in the lair chambers. Here the walls
were lighted with a brilliance that ran in swirls and
loops, patterns which Furtig found he did not care to
examine too closely.

Also, here the floor was soft under his feet, being
covered with a material which yielded to pressure
when he stepped. Without being asked, Foskatt of-
fered explanations as they went.

"This is the manner of all those rooms where the
Demons once lived. They have many unusual things
—springs of hot and cold water which flow at the
touch. Sounds—listen, now!"

But he need not have given that order. Furtig was
already listening to a sound, or a series of sounds,
such as he had never heard before. They certainly
came from no living creature, but apparently from the
air about them. Low sounds, lulling in a way. At the
moment he could not have said whether he liked what
he heard or not; he only listened and wondered.

"What makes it?" he asked at last.

"We do not know. It does not come regularly.
Sometimes we walk into a room and sounds begin,
stopping when we leave. Sometimes they start with
the coming of dark, just as certain lights come on
then. There is so much we do not know! It would—
will—take the lifetimes of five times five of such long-
living Ancestors as Gammage to learn only a few of
the mysteries."

"But Gammage does not believe we will have such
time undisturbed?"

"He is increasingly fearful of the Demons' return.
Though just why he fears this so strongly he has not
told us. If there were more of us— You see, brother,
Gammage believes one thing. When our people 8ed
from the lairs and the torments of the Demons, they
were not all alike. Oh, I do not mean different in color
and length of fur, shape of head—the usual ways one
differs e-.'en from a litter brother. No, we differed in-
side. Some were closer to the old Ancestors who were
born for generations here in the lairs, whom the De-
mons controlled and used as they pleased.

"But others had the change working more strongly
in them. And so their children, and children's children
differed also. Though all the People grew in knowl-
edge and were different from their older kin, still they
were so in varying degrees.

"Gammage himself differed greatly, so greatly he
was almost' cast out as a youngling from the caves—
until he proved his worth. But he believed early that
there was a way to learn more and that that lay hid-
den in the very place of horrors his people shunned.
So he came back. And to him from time to time came
those who also had seeking minds, who were restless,

unhappy for one reason or another in the life of the
outer tribes. It was this very restlessness that he put
to service here. And those who settled, took mates,
who absorbed more and more of what the lairs had to
offer, and produced the In-born, still more changed. It
is Gammage's belief that no warrior is drawn to the
lairs unless he has that within him which reaches for
what is hidden here.

"It is his hope, his need, to bring all the People
here, to make open to all the ways of learning, of heal-
ing"—Foskatt's hand went to the wound seal on his
leg—"so that we can be as much masters here and
elsewhere in this land as the Demons were. But main-
ly so that we can stand firm and safe when the De-
mons return, and not be hunted for their pleasure.
For that was how they served our Ancestors."

As he talked they went from the chamber with the
twisting lights on the walls through a series of further
rooms. These were furnished with more than just
beds and tables. There were hangings on the walls
with pictures on them, many seats, and even large
pads, as if someone had heaped up five or six thick-
nesses of bed pallets to make soft puffs. And crowded
in among these were a great medley of things—boxes,
containers, other objects Furtig did not know.

It reminded him of the crowded state of Foskatt's
quarters. Here, too, there had been an ingathering of
things found throughout the lairs.

Among these moved several of the In-bom, though
none of them paid any attention to the two newcom-
ers threading a path here. These workers were fe-
males. Some sat on the chairs or puffs intent on bits
and pieces laid out on low tables before them. Others

stood over devices which purred or clinked or made
outlandish noises.

"All small strange devices are brought here." Fos-
katt needlessly informed him. "First Gammage and
his Elders, those who have worked the longest and
know best the dangers which might exist, inspect
them. In the early days there were accidents. Dolar
has no hand on one wrist because of an incautious ex-
amination of a new find. So each is tested. When they
are sure that it is not dangerous, it is given to those
who try to unravel its secrets. For these gathered here
have the best hands for that."

Furtig saw what his companion meant. The fingers
of those at work here were indeed as unlike his own
stubby ones as Liliha's—longer, less clumsy in move-
ment.

It was Liliha herself who stood in the doorway of
the third room. She folded, with quick, graceful turns
of hands and wrists, a long strip of material which
seemed bulky until she dealt with it firmly. Then it
made a neat and surprisingly small pack.

To Furtig* s surprise she gave them the customary
greeting of the cave people:

"Fair morning and smooth trail, warriors."
"And a fair morning to you, One-Who-Chooses," he
replied.

"One-Who-Chooses," she repeated. "Yes, of that
custom I have heard, warrior. Though we do not alto-
gether follow it here. If you seek the Ancestor, he is
within. A new find, Foskatt?" She looked to the box.

"No. Just perhaps a new use for an old one. You
see, Liliha, even we who are not seekers-in-depth may
make discoveries also."

107




BREEQ TO COME

Did Foskatt then sound defensive, as if he had a
need to outdo the In-born in some way? If he did,
Furtig could well understand that emotion.

"All knowledge is three times welcome," was Lili-
ha's answer. Once more she was industriously nipping
the fabric into those smooth, much deflated folds.

Gammage was not alone in that last chamber. He
was seated on one of the wide seats of the Demons',
all of which were raised just the wrong distance from
the floor to be comfortable for one of the People, un-
less the feet were drawn up.

Beside him on the same seat was a powerfully built
warrior with a notched ear and a long scar on his jaw.
His one hand rested on his knee, and he gestured with
his other arm as he talked. There was no fur-backed
hand on that arm; instead, it ended in a ball of metal
equipped with claws, and a cuff which was lashed to
his own flesh and bone. This must be Dolar, Furtig
reasoned.

The other there, a Chooser, was plainly of the In-
born, just as Dolar was of the out-country. Her fur
was silky black, and around her neck was a chain of
bright stones. She wore bands of a like nature about
her wrists.

Both she and the battered warrior showed no wel-
come to those who entered. But Gammage gave a pur-
ring call:

"What have you, Foskatt? It seems that you come
in haste with something new."

"It is one of the see boxes," the female broke in.
"Of these we have plenty—amusements for young-
lings."

To Furtig's secret satisfaction, Foskatt caught her
up quickly. "Not used as this brother can use it!"

"How?" Gammage squirmed off his seat and came
to them. "How do you use it?"

Between them Furtig and Foskatt explained. Then
Furtig demonstrated. He produced two pictures, the
first of the caves, the second of Eu-La.

In that small, vivid scene she was busied with a
number of strips cut from hide. These she twisted and
turned in a fashion which seemed to Furtig useless.
And it was apparent she was frustrated at not achiev-
ing what she attempted. But Gammage uttered an ex-
clamation.

"Lohanna, see what this young female does!"

At his call the In-born looked. After a long moment
of close attention she turned on Furtig almost accus-
ingly.

"Who is this youngling?" she demanded, as if Fur-
tig were attempting to conceal a matter of impor-
tance. He remembered his promise to Eu-La—this
was the time to carry it out. And he freed the bag
from his belt.

"She is Eu-La of Gammage's cave. This she made
and asked me to show to Gammage."

The Ancestor took the bag, turned it about as if it
were indeed some treasure newly discovered, then
passed it to Lohanna. She studied it with the same at-
tention and then said to Gammage:

"She is one we .should have with us. Elder. Though
she is not of the In-born, yet see what she has
wrought. And what does she there?" She gestured to
the picture. "She rediscovers by herself one of the se-
crets of the Demons—doing it clumsily, but from her
own mind! The old strain is not finished in the Out-
World!"

"So it seems. And we shall try to bring her, Lohan-
na. Now—" Gammage looked to Furtig. "So you can
make the picture become what you wish— How?"

"I do not know how. I think—and there is the pic-
ture of the one I think of. Not as I remember them
last, but perhaps as they are at present. But how can
I be sure? I do not know it for the truth!" He was not
going to claim any talent which could later be proven
false. In spite of Foskatt's enthusiasm, Furtig was
stubbornly determined to walk cautiously before the
In-bom.

"Tell him how you were led through the lairs—"

Reluctantly Furtig added that piece of information.

"Not so strange." For the first time the metal-
handed Elder commented. "We have long known that
certain of us can be so guided—"

"But the point Foskatt would make," Gammage
said, "is not that Furtig was guided, but that he used
it with one he did not know, had had no contact with
before. So it would seem his use of that talent is also
different. If such a change breeds true, we can hope
for much in the future. Yes, Furtig, our brother here
has been right to urge you to tell us this. Now, what
else can you see—perhaps here in the lair?"

Furtig took the box. The picture of Eu-La had van-
ished in the fog. Should he try to see an unpeopled
place—or one with people? He tried to fasten on the
prison room in which he had found Foskatt, but the
box remained dark.

"It will not show me a place without people," he re-
ported.

110

BREED TO .COME

Gammage did not seem in the least disappointed.
"Then your ability must tie with a living thing. Well,
can you think of a person in the lairs—"

Furtig chewed his lower lip and thought. Then an
idea flashed into his mind. It would be the hi.r'hest
test of his ability. He summoned to mind the picture
•of the second Ratton guard he had seen before the
prisoners' cell.

To his surprise and delight the fog gathered. The
picture which emerged was blurred, but not so much
that he could not distinguish part of it. And small
sounds from two of those with him indicated that
they saw also.

There was the Ratton. But he lay on the floor of
the guard room. A piece of rubble, probably c'islodfed
by the battering of the servant, pinned his leg to the
floor. However, he still lived, for reddish eyes glinted
and Furtig saw his mouth open as if he called for
some help that would never come. Perhaps his fellows
had left him to die because he was now useless.

"The Ratton guard!" Foskatt cried out. "Him I
have seen! And that place—"

The blurring was complete, the scene vanished.

"That was one of the guards who held me!"

"So it would seem you can pick up other than our
own people!" Gammage was excited. "Yes, these
boxes, if others can learn to use them so, will become
far more than just something to amuse younglings.
Lohanna, would it not be well to check immediately
on all those who have used them idly to see whether
they were thinking of anything when they did so, or if
they had any control over their viewing? If they can
control it—or only a small number can control it—"

111




BREED TO COME                                    BREED TO COME

"Scouts," the warrior broke in. "Send scouts and
turn this on them—you could have instant warning of
what they viewed. We could prepare for attacks in
good time."

He raised his false hand and used its harsh talon
tips to scratch his chin.

Lohanna was already at the door. "You shall have
the answer as soon as possible. Elder," she assured
Gammage.

"Lohanna knows very much about the learning ma-
chines," the Ancestor told Furtig. "I only wish we
had more of the ancient records—"

Foskatt stirred. But Gammage was continuing:

"Do not take those words of mine as a complaint of
your failure to find such records. We had no idea the
Rattons had invaded that section of the lairs in force.
It is a great danger that they have. We dare not un-
derestimate them in any way. They breed in greater
numbers than we do. Though the same illness which
changed us in the beginning also cut the numbers of
our litters, the Ratton females have many offspring in
a single season.

"And among the Rattons are those whose cunning
has greatly advanced, so that they have their own seek-
ers of Demon knowledge. Being small, they can slink
along ways we cannot follow. It would be very diffi-
cult to seal off any part of the lairs so that they could
not find their way in. Also, they have their traps.

"We have certain Demon weapons. But, like the
servants, those are uncertain as to performance and
to depend upon them in time of need and then have
them fail—" He shook his head. "But still, the
records we have found reference to—they must lie in
the very territory the Rattons have invaded. Should
they find them first—and I am firm in the conviction
that they have among them those who are able to put
Demon learning to use—then we may be in a very
dangerous position. Time—we have so little time!"

There is only one thing to do," Foskatt said slowly. "I
shall try again. Though this time, being warned, I do
not think I shall be entrapped." There was dour de-
termination in his voice.

pammage shook his head. "Remember, younger
brother, you are but fresh out of the place of healing.
Your wound may seem closed, but if you were put to
some severe test this might not hold. Do you not re-
member what happened under similiar circumstances
to Tor-To?"

For a moment Furtig thought Foskatt would pro-
test. Then his tribesman gave a sigh. "But who then
can go? And if the Rations have taken over that part
of the lairs, will we ever be able to reach the records if
we wait longer?"

"He is right," the deeper half-growl of Dolar rum-
bled. "Were I but able—" His speech became a full
growl, and he brought his metal hand down upon the
edge of a table with such force that the claws left
deep indentations in its surface.

"Dolar, my close-brother, were you able, yes. But
this needs youth and quickness of body such as we
have both long since lost."

To his inner astonishment, some other seemed to
take over Furtig's voice then, for he heard himself
saying:

"I am warrior trained and skilled. Elder. Also I
have the homing sense which before led me through
unknown ways. Let me know just what to search for
and—"

"No!" Gammage was emphatic. "We must have
you here, to work with the box, to leam how you are
able to do this. Can you not see that is of the greatest
importance?"

"More," Dolar asked, "than saving records from
the Rattons? We have but six now of the warrior Out-
World breed, and the other four are abroad on mis-
sions to contact tribes. If Foskatt cannot go, dare we
send an In-bom? They cannot learn the ways without
many journeys under guidance. Those we cannot give
them. But now this matter of boxes—let Foskatt and
this young warrior try between them such sendings. If
they find they can use it, as a scout might, then there
may be a way out of this difficulty."

His sensible suggestion carried, and so for the rest
of that day and part of the night, taking only short
rests and eating the trail rations they carried with
them, the two played a hunt and search game through
the echoing corridors of the above-ground lairs. When
Furtig set off to wander, Foskatt sought him with the
box. At first they were defeated over and over again,
Foskatt seemingly unable to pick up any clear pic-

ture. Though once or twice the mist formed, enough
to encourage Foskatt to keep on trying.

Just as they were ready to surrender to disappoint-
ment, Furtig, returning to the. point where he had left
his partner, discovered Foskatt wildly elated.

"You stood in a room where there were shining
strips on the walls!" he cried out hoarsely. "And then
you went and put your hands against one of the
strips. On its surface was a second you who also put
forth his hand to meet you palm to palm!"

"That is right." Furtig slumped against the wall.
"That is what I did just before I started back. Then it
works for you, too!"

When they returned with the news of this small
success, they were greeted with a disturbing report
from another scout. He had tried to reach one of the
tribes of the People reputed to have hunting grounds
to the north, only to be cut off by a pack of Barkers
who, it appeared, were settling in.

Gammage paced up and down as if his thoughts
would not let him sit still. His tail switched and his
ears were a little flattened. Had not Furtig known
that in the lairs Trials were forbidden, he would have
believed the Ancestor was preparing to offer chal-
lenge.

"In the records there is proof that the Barkers
were, even more than we, the slaves of the Demons,
licking the ground before their feet—which the Peo-
ple, owned though they were, never did! I had hoped
— But that is another matter. If the Barkers now
ingather about the lairs, can we believe that is a sign
pointing to Demon return? Perhaps the Demons have
in some secret manner signalled the Barkers to them.

Though if the Barkers remembered the Demon end
here as well as we do, they would not be so quick to
answer such a call."

"The Barkers," offered Dolar, "are rovers, not lik-
ing settled lairs. Other times they have come near,
but they never stayed for any length of time."

"Hunting parties, yes," Gammage agreed. "But
this time they bring their females and young. Ask of
Fy-Yan, who has been three suns watching them. We

must have knowledge—"

"Which perhaps we can gain for you. Ancestor,"
Foskatt said. "We can use the box. I have seen Furtig

afar in it."

Ganimage turned with the quick grace of one sea-
sons younger. His yellow eyes glowed.

"Sooo—" In his mouth the word became a hiss, al-
most akin to the warning one uttered when entering a
hunting country. "Let us lay hands upon those
records and perhaps we can hold the lairs. Even if the
Barkers continue to be our enemies."

"Continue?" Dolar clicked his claws. "Think you it
can be otherwise? Do you also fear that they might

swear truce with Rations?"

"Not impossible. In times of war it is best never to
say in advance this can be, that not. Be prepared for
any danger. And I say to all of you, though perhaps I
have said it so many times before that the words will
have no effect, with Rattons one cannot be sure of
anything! Remember that well, Furtig, if and when
you go into ways where they can be found."

Furtig thought he needed no warning. His hatred
for the creatures, together with his earlier brush with
them, had been enough to arouse all his caution. No

warrior ever trusted anyone or anything, save his own
clan brothers and the lair which gave him shelter.

He listened, impatiently but curbing the outward
show of that, to all the information and instructions
which those who had explored the ways could provide.
Foskatt gave him directions—vague enough—as to
what he sought. He was to watch for certain marks on
walls—which might or might not be there—and
would have the use of a secondary guide.

This was a cube similar to that with which Foskatt
had summoned the rumbler. But its buzzing had an-
other use. They had discovered a season back that
this sound was emitted when the cube was brought
near Demons' record disks.

With this instrument, and trail supplies, Furtig at
last descended to the lower runways of the lairs. As
yet they had no knowledge as to how far the Rations
had penetrated, though they had stationed scout-
guards at important checkpoints to warn of any spill-
over into their home territory. Metal servants of the
Demons could also be used for this service and Furtig
passed some of these on the way.

At last he slid into the dark of those tunnels, which
could be runways for either the People or their ene-
mies. There were doors here, but he wasted no time
in exploring. This was not the area of the reputed
cache. He moved noiselessly along, depending upon
both ear and nose for warnings. The smell of Ratton he
would never forget, and that warning the enemy could
not sonceal.

As a hunter he knew that many of the wild crea-
tures had senses of smell far superior to his own. The
Barkers did. But his hearing and his sight, which was
hardly limited by the dim grayness of these ways,
were his own weapons.

There was not complete darkness here. At long in-
tervals small vertical bars were set in the walls to emit
a dull light. Whether those had once been brighter
and had dimmed through the years was not known. It
was enough that the light aided the sight of the Peo-
ple.

Furtig had eaten, drunk, and slept before he had
set out on this quest. At his belt a packet of food was
balanced by a container of water. They did not expect
him to be away too long, but he was prepared for pos-
sible delays.

Under his feet dust formed a soft carpet, but he
trod so lightly that little of it was disturbed. His one
hand was never far from the butt of a new weapon
Dolor had given him out of their small store. The dif-
ficulty was that it was too big to handle with ease,
having been fashioned to fit a hand much larger than
his own. In order to use it at all (one leveled the bar-
rel and pressed a firing button on the butt), Furtig
had to discard his familiar and useful claws.

But having seen it demonstrated, Furtig was cer-
tain that the results might well outweigh those disad-
vantages. For when the button was pressed a vivid
crackle of white (as if the Demons had indeed tamed
lightning and compressed it into this weapon) shot
forth like a knife of light. What that touched ceased
to exist at all! It was indeed a fearsome thing. But,
like all the Demon treasures, it was erratic. Explorers
had found many of these, yet only a small number
worked. It was if they had been drained of life during
the long time they had lain unused.

Furtig turned from the main passage into a narrow-
er one and began to count the dim lights in the wall.
At the fourth he stopped to look down. There was a
grating such as had given him entrance to free the
prisoners—that was Foskatt's first guidepost.

Kneeling, Furtig slipped on his claws. With their
added strength he was able to hook into the grating,
work it out of place. Foskatt had warned him how
sound carried and he was sure it had been his own
handling of that grating which had alerted the Rat-
tons, so Furtig moved very slowly.

As he worked he thought about Foskatt, hoping
that their practice had proven the truth, that the
other was now picking up the picture of where he was.
Having held that concentration on his part as long as
he could, Furtig found the grating loose, laid it on the
floor, and ran his hand into the lightless space
beyond.

It was large enough for him to crawl into, but Fur-
tig hesitated. If the Rations were suspicious, they
might well have rigged another trap. Yet this was the
only known way in since the fall of roof and walls had
closed off the corridor passages ahead.

Carefully Furtig lifted the grating, fitted it back
into place. He had made his decision. To follow exact-
ly in Foskatt's path was folly. During his time of in-
struction in the lairs he had been shown various types
of Ratton traps. Some of them were practically unde-
tectable. Therefore he must find another way in. Or
Foskatt must be able to suggest a possible other trail,
knowing the ways of the lairs.

Furtig squatted on his heels and once more concen-
trated on a mental picture, this time not of what he
was doing, for Foskatt's pickup, but of Foskatt him-
self.

The picture was vivid in his mind. Furtig closed his
eyes—now, he might be looking directly into the oth-
er's face. He shaped his need for further information.
This was something entirely new he was trying. Could
he communicate this way—even with Foskatt's see
box as an aid?
Ways—

Furtig could not be sure of that. Was he receiving a
message from the other, or was it only that he wanted
an answer so badly that his mind deceived him?
"On-right-down—"

Furtig opened his eyes. He was certain that was not
his own thought. On-right-down— On along the
passage, right—down— Well, it. was either believe
that to be a message or try a passage which could be a
trap. And of the two alternatives, he would rather be-
lieve that he had received a message.

So he left the grating that had been Foskatt's en-
trance and padded on. The passage ran straight, with
no breaks except a few doors. Then Furtig could see a
wall at the end—a dead end with no turn right or left,
only a last door to his right.

Furtig turned in there. The room was bare of any
furnishing. The only break in its walls was the door
through which he had entered. There were two floor
gratings; a distinct current of air flowed from one of
those. Furtig went to his knees to better sniff at it.

No Ratton stench, nothing but the acrid odor com-
mon to all these levels. There was a good chance that
he had bypassed the dangerous territory. At least he
must now chance this or fail without even trying.

The grating resisted his efforts to free it. Furtig had
to use force with his claws to lever it out. When he
lowered it to the floor and swept his hands within, he
discovered that this was even more spacious than the
area beneath the first grating.

He crouched for a long moment before he entered,
once more making a picture that Foskatt might or
might not be able to pick up. Then he took from his
belt one of the tools Gammage had provided. It was
no longer than the palm of his hand when he pulled it
from the loop, but when he pressed it here and there
it unfolded longer and longer, until he held a slender
pole twice his own height in length. This detect was
his only protection against traps, and he must use it
with all the skill he could.

Resolutely he crawled into the duct. The interior
was large enough for him to go on hands and knees,
but it was too dark for his sight to aid. Instead he
must depend on that thin rod as he edged slowly for-
ward, sweeping it back and forth, up and down, to
test for any obstruction. Explorers had used these
successfully to set off traps in confined spaces. But
they had failed, too. And at that moment such fail-
ures were to be remembered vividly.

Suddenly the point of the device struck against
solid surface ahead. A crosswise sweep, a second verti-
cal one met opposition all the way— There was a wall
ahead, yet air continued to flow—

Side walls? Furtig tapped right and left: only solid
surface. Which left only up or down—and down had
been Foskatt's message. Furtig slid the detect along
the flooring of the duct. There was an opening. By
careful tapping he measured it to be a wide one. He

edged closer, hanging his head over the rim, trying to
discover the length of the drop, what might be below.

He folded the detect, put on his claws, and swung
over. There were places in the walls to set claw tips so
that he did not slide down too fast. But it was a chan-
cy trip, and he had no idea how long that descent last-
ed. It seemed to his aching arms, his tense body, far
too long. Then he came, not to the end, but to anoth-
er cross passage leading in the right direction.

Thankfully Furtig pulled into that and lay panting,
his whole body sweating and weak. It was not until
some small measure of strength returned that he
pulled out the detect rod, stretched it again to explore
by touch.

The new passage was smaller than the one from
which he had come. It was necessary to wriggle for-
ward on his belly. But it pointed in the right direc-
tion, there was no smell of Ratton, and he had no ex-
cuse not to try it.

It was prod, slide, prod, a very slow advance. But
his detect found no more barriers. Now there was
even a faint glimmer of light to be sighted ahead. It
was so welcome, Furtig hurried more than he had
dared since he had entered the ducts.

Soon he peered through what could only be a grat-
ing. But, like that of the Ratton prison, this was set
not at floor level but near the ceiling, so that he had
to squeeze close to it in order to get even a limited
view of the floor.

He was just in time to witness action. Rations!
Even before he saw them, their foul smell arose. Fur-
tig froze, afraid of making some sound. But with that

stench came the smell of blood and that of his own
People. His stiff whiskers bristled.

He could hear sounds almost directly below his
perch, but the angle was such that he could not view
what was happening. There was a low moan of pain, a
vicious cluttering in the Ratton tongue. Then a body
rolled out far enough for him to see it.

Though the fur of the prisoner was matted with
blood, he was able to recognize Ku-La. So the strang-
er had not made his escape after all! He was not only
back in Ratton claws but had suffered their cruel
usage. That he still lived was no mercy. And his end
would mean only one thing, food for the Rations.

Plastered against the grating, Furtig listened, as if
he could do that not only with his ears but with his
whole body. He could hear small scuffling noises, a
few chitterings. Then those grew fainter, stopped. He
was certain after a long wait that the Rattons had
gone, leaving no guard here.

Ku-La's own actions proved that. He was striving
to raise his battered head from the floor, making ef-
forts which brought cries of pain out of him, to some-
how reach his bonds with his teeth. But the Rattons
were no fools; he had been well and skillfully tied. His
struggles did not last long. "With a last moan he went
limp as if even that small effort had finished him.

Ku-La was not of Furtig's -clan, and one did not
champion strangers. But—common blood—he was of
the People. And his fate might be Foskatt's, or Fur-
tig's.

Furtig started to move away from the grating, but
he discovered that something would not let him go
in comparative safety, leaving Ku-La to Ratton-

delivered death. He edged back and began to feel about
the edge of the grating. At first he thought that too
tightly set, that fate had decided for him, giving him
no choice.

Then there was a click which startled Furtig into
instant immobility. After listening, and hearing noth-
ing to suggest the enemy had returned, he began once
more that patient prying and pulling.

To work the grating loose in those confined
quarters was difficult, but Furtig managed it. Once-
more he had recourse to his belt and the various tools
and aids he carried. Wound there was a length of
cord, seemingly too thin and fine to support even a
youngling. But this was another of the Demons'
wonders, for it could take greater weights than Fur-
tig.

He used the grating to anchor one end. Then, as he
had used vines in the trees, he swung out and down.
Furtig hit the floor in a half crouch, ready to take on
any Ratton. But the door was closed; there were none
there.

Sighing With relief, he moved to the captive in a
single leap. Ku-La stared up at him in wide-eyed
amazement but made no sound. Nor did he attempt
to move as Furtig slashed through his bonds. The ex-
tent of the other's injuries made Furtig sick, and he
was not sure he could save him. If Ku-La was unable
to follow him into the duct, perhaps it would be his
choice to ask for a throat slash and go out as a warrior
should, rather than linger in the enemies' hold.

Furtig extended his hand that the other might see
his claws and understand the choice it was his to
make. Ku-La's blue eyes regarded those claws. Then

he moved, slowly, painfully, levering himself up, look-
ing not to the promise of a clean and speedy death,
but to the cord dangling beyond. He had made his
choice, and Furtig was forced to accept it.

For a moment he was bitterly resentful. Why did
he have to turn aside from a vital mission to aid this
warrior who was not of his clan, to .whom he owed no
duty at all? He did not understand the impulse that
had brought him to Ku-La's aid, he only mistrusted it
and the difficulties into which it had plunged him.

Ku-La could not get to his feet, but he crawled for
the end of the cord with such determined purpose
that Furtig hurried to help. How he could get the al-
most helpless warrior aloft he had no idea. And he
was driven by the fear that at any moment the Ra.t-
tons might return. In the end he managed by looping
the cord about Ku-La, then returning aloft to pull
with all the strength he could summon.

Had the distance been greater, Furtig could not
have done it. But somehow he had the energy left to
bring that dangling body within reaching distance of
the opening. Then Ku-La himself, with what effort
Furtig could imagine, raised one arm to the edge and
drew himself within.

Wasting no time in trying to tend the other's hurts,
Furtig hurried to reset the grating. Only when he had
done that did he squirm beside Ku-La, unhook his
water container, and let the other drink—which he
did in a way that suggested that his thirst had been
almost as great a torment as his wounds.

"Where now?" Ku-La's whisper was very weak.

Well might he ask that! Furtig's impatience flared
again. In this tight duct he could only tug the other

on. He was sure Ku-La could not climb up the vent
down which he had come. It could well be that he
should leave the other here, momentarily out of harm,
and go on his own mission. As he was considering
that, the same idea must have come to Ku-La, for he
said: "They will seek—"

Naturally they would. And they would not be long
in finding the grating. It would take them some effort
to reach the opening, but Furtig could not gain much
satisfaction from that. He set to work to see if he
could wedge the grating more securely. He broke off a
length of his detect and rammed it well into place.
They would have some trouble breaking that.

"We can only go on," he said at last. But how far—
and to where? The pace Ku-La could keep—His con-
cern over the other had indeed put him in awkward
straits; it might even lead to. disaster.

Perhaps Ku-La could help. Let them get away from
the grating, and he could ask the other what he knew
of this section of the lairs.

"Can you crawl?'1"

"While there is breath in me," replied the other.
There was that in his tone akin to some blood-oath
promise. Furtig believed he meant it.

He put out his hand, caught the other's right arm,
and hooked Ku-La's fingers into his own belt.

"Hang on then and let us go!"

128

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 confirma-
tion, 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 sur-
prised Furtig, for he believed Ku-La sunk in his own
misery.

"What seek you?"

"Knowledge." Furtig answered w'th 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 actu-
ally produced strength to aid him. "They kept rec-
ords—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 oth-
er'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 possi-
ble. 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-De-
mons 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 im-
portant.

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 Fos-
katt 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 Fur-
tig 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 gener-

al 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 trea-
sures. 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 superi-
or 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 de-
pression 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 noth-
ing 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 fir-
ing 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 care-
fully 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.

Then he became aware of the device that Gammage
had given him, that which must locate the tapes. It
was buzzing, loudly enough to sound beyond the
pouch where he carried it.

Heartened by that, he redoubled his efforts and his
choice moved, rolling with greater ease once he got it
started, trundling forward to the door. There Furtig
maneuvered it into position across the threshold so
the opposed leaves, if attempt to close those did,
would be held apart by its bulk. Only when it was set
in place did he scramble over it.

There was a light bar within on the ceiling, so he
could see before him a narrow aisle of drawered con-
tainers such as were always used for tape storage.
Hooking his fingers in the pull of the nearest, he gave
it a jerk. The drawer rolled open to display boxes of
record tapes. Furtig was amazed by the number. If
each of these—he glanced down the double row of
containers—held as many as this one drawer, this was
just such a storehouse as Gammage had long hoped to
find.

Furtig slipped along the aisle, opening one drawer
after another. But before he reached the end of that
short line, he could see that the racks within were
more and more sparsely filled. And the last section of
drawers on the very end were entirely empty. Even so
—this was a find to rejoice over.

Transportation— Furtig leaned against the far
wall, looked back to the wedged door. That was a new
problem. He had brought a bag, now tightly rolled in
his belt, which would hold three or four double hand-
fuls of tape cases. But how could he know which in
this storehouse of wealth were those that mattered
the most? There was nothing to do but make a clean
sweep, transport everything here, at least into a hid-
ing place of his own choice—which could mean some-

where along the ducts—until it could be carried back
to Gammage.

Furtig went into action, filling the bag, climbing
into the duct to dump its contents, returning to fill
and climb again. He was beginning to tire. His effort
at dragging Ku-La along the duct told when added to
this. But he kept to his task, making sure he left
nothing behind in any drawer he emptied.

It took ten trips, and at the end he was shaking
with fatigue. By rights he should move that machine
back, try to reseal the door, cover his tracks so that
no prowling Ration could be guided to the treasure
trove he had to cache in the duct. But he simply could
not summon the strength to accomplish all that. In-
stead he swung up for the last time, lay panting there
until he could bring into his heavy, aching arms ener-
gy enough to reset the grill.

About him lay the tape cases in a drift which rat-
tled and rolled as he moved. And he knew that he
dared not leave them so near the spot where he had
found them. So he began once more, this time not
only filling his bag but pushing before him an armload
of loose tapes, taking what he could back along the
duct.

When he reached the meeting of the ways where he
had left Ku-La, he heard a stirring. .

"You-have-found—" Ku-La's whisper was stronger,
or did Furtig only imagine that because he hoped it
was so?

"Yes. But I must bring these here." Flinging out
his arm, Furtig sent the cases spinning, hastily emp-
tied his bag. He wasted no more breath on explanation
but set to retrace his way.

How many such trips he made he did not know.
FurtiJ only understood that he could allow himself no
long pause to rest for fear of not being able to start
again. But in the end he lay beside Ku-La with the
tide of cases piled up like a wall about them.

Something pushed against his forearm persistently.
He roused enough to shove it away, to discover that it
was the water container he had left with Ku-La. Fur-
tig pulled it to him, opened it, and allowed himself
two reviving mouthfuls.

Revive him those did. But now hunger awakened in
turn. He hunched up as well as he could in those
cramped quarters to get at his supply pouch. In turn
he was heartened when Ku-La accepted some of the
dried meat he pressed into his hand. If the other
could eat, perhaps he was not as badly off as Furtig
had earlier feared. If Ku-La could move on, help him-
self somewhat, their return did not seem such an in-
surmountable problem as Furtig had thought it.

But he did not suggest that move as yet. Having
eaten sparingly and drunk even more sparingly, Fur-
tig settled himself full length, pushing aside the
welter of tape cases to stretch out in what small mea-
sure of comfort he could achieve, and took the rest he
knew he could no longer do without.

How long he dozed he did not know. But he awoke,
aroused by a clicking near to hand. His body tensed,
his hand crept to the butt of the Demon weapon. The
tapes!

"You wake?" Ku-La spoke. "I count our find—"

Furtig realized that the other must be piling the
cases into some sort of order. For when he put out his
hand he discovered that those he had shoved aside

were gone. But—"our find"? Did Ku-La think to
claim that which Furtig by his own efforts had
brought out of danger? When Furtig had succeeded
where the other had failed?

Save that this was no time for quarreling. Neither
one would have any chance to claim anything if they
did not get out of here. He was sure, in spite of the
partial recovery Ku-La appeared to have made, that
the other could not retrace Furtig's way in. Which
meant either that Furtig must leave him here—with
the majority of the tapes—or find another way out for
them both.

They lay in this wider space, the junction of three
ducts. Two would lead them nowhere they could go,
which left the third. It was the left-hand way, which
might or might not carry them deeper into Ratton
territory. He said as much.

"Your way in—" began Ku-La.

"There would be a hard climb back. It was difficult
to descend and I had use of both hands."

"While those gray stinkers have left me the good of
only one!" Ku-La interrupted. "But you can return—"

"With a chance that the Rattons have already ;

marked the route?" Furtig countered. "I cannot carry
you—or more than a few of the tapes. Should I leave
all easy prey for them?"

"The tapes being the more important. Is that not
so, warrior?" Ku-La asked quietly. "Tell me, why did
you risk so much to free me from the Rations? You
could not have known then that I had information
about the tapes. And I am no clansman or litter
brother of yours; we have shared no hunting trail.

This is not the custom of your tribe, any more than it
is of mine, or so I would guess."

Furtig told him the truth. "I do not know, save I
could not leave any of the People, clansman or strang-
er, to the Rations. Or perhaps I have listened to the
Ancestor—"

"Ah, yes, your Ancestor. I have heard of his strange
thoughts—that all the People, clan upon clan, must
draw together in a long truce. One of his messengers
spoke so to our Elders. But we could not see the wis-
dom in that—not then."

"There has been a change in your thinking?" Fur-
tig was interested. Did Gammage indeed have a
strong enough message to convert those with whom
he had no kin tie? When his own clan would not listen
to him?

"In my thinking, though I am no Elder. You did
not leave me to die under Ratton fangs. Though earli-
er I left you and your kin brother so. And you took
the knowledge I had given you and returned with
what you found. Yes, one begins to see the worth in
your Ancestor's, suggestion. Together we have done
something that neither might have succeeded in
alone."

"Save -that we have not yet succeeded," Furtig
pointed out. "Nor shall we until we are safely back in
that portion of the lairs held by the People. And with
what we have found. Now we must do just that."

In the end Furtig made a blind selection from the
tapes, knotting as many as he could into the bag. The
rest he stacked around the duct walls. This hollow of
a three-way meeting was as good a place as any to
store them. Having done this, he tried his powers of

concentration for the last time, tried to contact Fos-
katt.

There was no way of knowing whether he got
through. In fact the farther he was in space and time
from his contact, the more he doubted the worth of
their communication. With Ku-La he ate and drank
again. There was very little water-left now—he was
not sure it would last long enough to carry them both
to some source for more. But he would not worry
about that until it became a matter of real concern.
Rather he must keep his mind on what lay directly
before him.

Again crawling with Ku-La's one hand hooked into
his belt, Furtig worked into the left-hand passage. If
they moved now behind the walls of separate rooms
there was no way of telling it, for there were no grat-
ings. And distance in the dark and under such circum-
stances was as hard to measure as time. The duct ran
straight, with no turns or side cuttings. Furtig could
not help but believe they must be heading back to-
ward the lairs used by his own kind.

He tried to tap that directional sense which had
guided him so surely before. But whether he had ex-
hausted his talent, if he had any special talent in mes-
sage sending, he did not know. One thing only was
certain: He had no strong urge in any direction and
could only crawl unguided through the dark.

Far ahead there was a glimmer of light. Another
grating? He did not greatly care, he merely wanted to
reach it, the need for light as much an ache within
him as hunger or thirst. As he advanced, Furtig was
sure it was stronger than the weak glimmers of the
other gratings.

They reached the opening, which seemed, to eyes
accustomed to the black of the ducts, a blaze of light.
It was a grating, but one giving on the open, even
though they must be many levels into the earth. Rain
was falling without, and the dampness blew through
the grating to bead their fur.

Here a well had been cored through the lairs, large
enough so that with the haze of the rain they could
hardly see the far side. What they could make out of
the walls showed them smooth, unbroken by more
than gratings. Only in one place the smooth wall was
blackened, broken with a hold of jagged edges.

Furtig thought of lightning and how it could rend
even rocks if it struck true. Also of the lightning of
the Demon weapon. Perhaps that could not have
caused that hole. But suppose the Demons had simi-
lar but greater weapons, ones of such force as to
knock holes through stone walls? Like giant rum-
blers? The old legends of how the Demons had turned
upon each other in the end, rending, killing—this
might mark such a battle.

On the other hand, that hole could well give them
entrance into the very parts of the lairs they wanted
to gain. Furtig was heartily tired of crawling through
the ducts. There was something about being pent in
these narrow spaces which seemed to darken his mind
so that he could not think clearly any more. He want-
ed out, and the fresh air beyond was a restorative
moving him to action.

"But this place I know!" Ku-La cried. "I have seen
it—not from here, but from above—" He crowded
against Furtig, pushing the other away from the grat-
ing, trying to turn his head at some impossible angle

to see straight up. "No, I cannot mark it from here.
But there are places above from which one can see
into this hole."

Furtig was not sure he wanted Ku-La to recognize
their whereabouts. It would have been far better had
they found a place he knew. But he did not say that.
Instead he pushed Ku-La away in turn to see more
clearly; he wanted another look at the wall break.
Yes, it was not too far above the floor of the well. He
was sure they could reach it. And he set to work on
the grating.

As he levered and pulled, he made his suggestion
about going through the break.

"A good door for us," Ku-La agreed.

The grating loosened, and he wriggled through into
the open. He was glad .for once to have the rain wet
his fur, though normally that would have been a dis-
comfort he would have tried to avoid. He dropped
easily, and water splashed about his feet. That gath-
ered and ran in thin streams to drain through open-
ings in the base of the walls.

Furtig signalled for Ku-La, turning his head from
side to side watchfully. Above, as the other had said,
there were rows of windows. And he could see, higher
still, one of those bridges crossing from the wall
against which he stood to a point directly opposite. Or
had once crossed, for only two thirds of it were still in
existence, and those were anchored to the buildings.
The middle of the span was gone.

There were no signs of life. Rain deadened scent.
However, they would have to take their chances. Fur-
tig tugged the cord which he had made fast above for
the second time. Ku-La descended by its aid, the rain
washing the crust of dried blood from his matted fur
.as he came.

Those windows bothered Furtig. He had the feel-
ing which was so often with him in the lairs, that
he was being watched. And he hated to be in the
open even for so short a time. But Ku-La could not
make that crossing in a couple of leaps. He hobbled,
and Furtig had to set hand under his shoulder to sup-
port him or he would not have been able to make the
journey at all. It seemed long, far too long, before
they reached the break and somehow scrambled up
and into that hole.

10

Ay ana lay pent in the web, staring up at the small
visa-screen on the cabin bulkhead. So she had lain
through many practice landings. But this was dif-
ferent—this was real, not in a mock-up of the ship
while safely based on Elhorn II, where one always
knew it was a game, even if every pressure and possi-
ble danger would be enacted during that training.

Now that difference was a cold lump within her, a
lump which had grown with every moment of time
since they had snapped out of hyper to enter this sys-
tem. Were the old calculations really to be trusted?
Was this the home planet from which her species had
lifted into space at the beginning of man's climb to
the stars?

When one watched the histro-tapes, listened to the
various pieced-together records, one could believe. But
to actually take off into the unknown and seek that
which had become a legend—

Yet she had been wildly excited when her name had

appeared with the chosen. She had gone through all
the months of testing, training, of mental condition-
ing, in order to lie here and watch a strange solar sys-
tem spread on the visa-screen in a cramped cabin—
know that they would flame down, if all went well, on
a world which had not been visited for centuries of

planet time.     ,

She saw the shift in the protect web hung above

hers. Tan must be restlessly trying to change position
again, though the webs gave little room for such play.
Even their rigorous training had not schooled that
restlessness out of Tan. From childhood he had al-
ways been of the explorer breed, needing to see what
lay beyond, but never satisfied with the beyond when
he reached it, already looking once more to the hori-
zon. That was what had made life with Tan exciting—
on Elhorn; what had drawn her after him into the
project. But what can be a virtue can also be a
danger. She knew of old that Tan must sometimes be
curbed, by someone close enough for him to respond

to.

Ayana studied the bulging webbing—Tan safe, but

for how long? His nature had been channeled, he had
been educated as a First-in Scout. Once they had
landed, he would take off in the flitter—unless there
were direct orders against that. Now Ayana hoped
that there would be. She could not understand the
deepening depression which gathered as a fog about
her. It had begun as they had come out of hyper,
growing as she watched the visa-screen. As if those
winking points of light which were the world awaiting
them marked instead the fingers of a great dark hand
stretching forth to gather them in. Ayana shivered.

Imagination, that was her weak point, as she had
been told in the final sifting when she had almost
been turned down for the crew. It was only because
she was an apt balance for Tan, she sometimes
thought unhappily, that she had been selected at all.

"Well—there they are!" There was no note of de-
pression in Tan's voice. "So far the route equations
have proved out."

Why could she not share his triumph? For it was a
triumph. They had had so little to guide them in this
search. The First Ship people had deliberately de-
stroyed their past. A search of more than a hundred
years had produced only a few points of reference,
which the computer had woven into the information
for this voyage.

Five hundred planet years had passed since the
First Ships—there had been two—had landed on El-
horn. What mystery had made those in them deliber-
ately destroy not only all references to the world from
which they had lifted but some of the instruments to
make those ships spaceworthy? The colonists had suf-
fered a slow decline into a primitive existence, which
they had actually welcomed, resisting with vigorous
fanaticism any attempt by the next generation to dis-
cover what lay behind their migration.

There were two—three such stagnated generations.
Then, with all those of the first generation gone, their
stifling influence removed, again inquiry. Explorers
had found a closed compartment in one ship with its
learning tapes intact; though those were spotty,
sometimes seemingly censored.

After that came rebuilding, rediscovery, the need to
know now almost an inborn trait of the following gen-

erations. There had been a search lasting close to a
hundred years, until at least nearly all the resources of
Elhorn had been turned to that quest alone. Not
without opposition. There had been those in each
generation who had insisted that their ancestors must
have had good reason to suppress the past, that to
seek the source of their kind was to court new disas-
ter. And those had been gaining followers, too. They
might have prevented the present voyage had it not
been for the Cloud.

Ayana's face suddenly mirrored years of parched
living when she thought of the Cloud. It had been
such a little thing in the beginning. Scientists had
wished to get at the rare ores their detectors had lo-
cated on the impenetrable South Island of Iskar,
where volcanic action produced unpredictable out-
bursts of lethal gases. From the old records, they had
created robos like those the First Ship people had
used, and these had been dropped on Iskar to do the
mining. But the gases apparently had eaten away the
delicate robo "brains," in spite of all attempts to
shield those against infiltration. Then the scientists
had turned to chemical countermeasures. To their
own undoing. For the equipment the "dying" robos
had installed in the mines had malfunctioned. And
the result was the birth and continuing growth of the
Cloud.

That did not rise far in the air; it crept, horribly,
with a slow relentlessness which made it seem a sen-
tient thing and not just a mass of vapor. So it covered
Iskar, where there was little to die, but later it had
headed out over the sea.

The water itself had been poisoned by the passing

touch of that loathsome mist. Sea life died, but died
fleeing. And those refugees contaminated others well
beyond. Those died also, though more slowly.

At last those who had resisted the hunt for the
home world capitulated. With their limited knowl-
edge, lacking as it was in those portions the First Ship
people had destroyed, they could not deal with the
monster from Iskar. And they must either find a way
to strike it a death blow, or else transport all their
people elsewhere.

Even as the Pathfinder had lifted, the rest of the
labor force (which now meant all the able-bodied
dwellers on Elhorn) had been at work rehabilitating
the two colony ships. Whether those could ever be put
in condition to take to space again no man knew. The
Pathfinder had been constructed from a smaller scout
which had been in company with the colony ships.

There were only four of them on board the Path-
finder, each a specialist in his or her field, and able to
double in another. Ayana was both medic and histori-
an; Tan, a scout and defense man; Jacel, the captain,
was their corn expert and navigator; Massa, the pilot
and techneer. Four against the whole solar system,
from which the First Ships had fled in such fear that
they had destroyed all references to their past.

Had there been a Cloud on the ancestral planet,
too? Of worse still (if there could be worse), had men
hunted other men to the death? For that, too, had
happened in the past, the tapes revealed. At least on
Elhorn, they had not resorted to arms to settle dif-
ferences in belief.

The closer the Pathfinder came to their goal, the
more Ayana feared what they might find.

For days of ship's time their flight within the ances-
tral solar system continued. By common consent they
chose their target—the third planet from the sun.
From the computer reports, that seemed to be the
planet best suited to support life as they knew it.

All this time Jacel tried to raise some response to
their ship's broadcast, but none came. That silence
was sinister. Yet the mere lack of a reply signal could
not turn them back now. So they went into a braking
orbit about the world.

That it was not bare of life was apparent. Or at
least it had not lacked intelligent life at one time.
Vast splotches of cities spread far over the land
masses. They could be picked up by viewers in day-
light, and their glow at night (though sections were
onimously dark) provided beacons. Still there was no
answer to their signals.

"This I do not understand." Jacel sat before his in-
struments, but his voice came to Ayana and Tan
through the cabin corn. "There is evidence of a high
civilization. Yet not only do they not answer our sig-
nals, but there is no communication on the planet ei-
ther."

"But those lights—in the night!" Massa half pro-
tested.

Ayana wanted to echo her. It was better to see
those lights flashing out as day turned to night below,
than to remark upon the glow which did not appear—
the scars of darkness. Yet one looked more and more
for those.

"Have you thought," Tan asked, "that the lights
may be automatic, that they come on because of the
dark, and not because anyone presses a button or
pulls a switch? And that where they are now dark
some installation has failed?"

He put openly what was in all their minds. And
that was the best explanation. But Ayana did not like
to hear it. If they now raced through the skies above
the dead world with only that vast sprawl of struc-
tures its abiding monument for a vanished people,
then what had killed them, or driven them into space?
And did that menace still lurk below2

Ayana wanted to turn her head, not watch the visa-
screen. But that she could not do. It had a horrible
fascination which held her in thrall.

"Without a signal we cannot find a landing site—"
Jacel paused. "Wait! I am picking up something—a
signal of sorts!"

They were once more in a day zone. Ayana could
mark the shape of an ocean below. The land masses
on this world was more or less evenly divided, two in
each hemisphere. And they were over one such mass
as Jacel reported his signal.

"Fading—it is very weak." His voice sounded exas-
perated. "I shall try to tune it in again—"

"A message?" Tan asked. "Challenging who we are
and what we are doing in their skies?" He spoke as if
he expected that hostile reaction. But why? Unless
the memory of the fears of the First Ship people
touched him, even as it had her, Ayana thought.

But if that were so, if they were to be greeted as en-
emies—how could they hope to land? Better by far ts

abort— Though she was sure Tan would never con-
sent to that.

Jacel, using the ship's resources, had another an-
swer. The signal, he was certain, was mechanically

beamed and carried no message. And as such it could
have only one purpose—to guide in some visitor from
space.

Hearing that, they made their decision, though not
without reservations on Ayana's part, to use the
beacon as a guide. As Massa pointed out, they could
not continue in orbit indefinitely and they had no
other lead. But they prepared for a rough landing.
The computer gave no answers, only continued to gulp
in all the information their instruments supplied.

With every protect device alerted, Ayana lay in her
bunk. She shut her eyes, and would not look at the
screen, glad in a cowardly fashion that it was not her
duty to be in the control cabin, where she would have
to watch.

The usual discomforts of landing shut out every-
thing beyond the range of her own body, and she
tensed and then relaxed. She had done this many
times in practice, yet the truth differed so much from
the simulation. A second or so later she blacked out.

As one waking out of a nightmare she regained con-
sciousness. Then duty made its demands, and she
fumbled with the webbing cocooning her body. It was
only when she wriggled out of that protection that the
silence of the ship impressed itself upon her; all the
throbbing life in it was gone. They must be down, for
the engines were shut off.

Not only down, but they had made a good landing,
for the cabin was level. They must have ridden in the
deter rockets well. So Jacel had been right to trust
the beam.

Ayana stood up and felt the grip of gravity. She

took a step or two, feeling oddly uncertain at first,
holding to a bunk support, looking at Tan.

He lay inert, a thin trickle of blood oozing from one
corner of his mouth. But even as she raised her hand
to him, he opened his eyes, those wide gray eyes, and
they focussed on her.

"We made it!" He must have taken in at once the
silence of the cabin, the fact that it was in correct po-
sition for a good landing. His hands sped to unhook
his webbing.

"You are all right—?"

"Never better! We made it!" And the way he re-
peated that gave her a clue to his thoughts. Perhaps
for all his outward .show of confidence. Tan had had
doubts, strong doubts after all.

He was out of the cabin ahead of her, already
climbing for the control cabin before she could follow.
Voices from there announced that the two responsible
for what Ayana privately believed to be a miracle—
their safe landing—were already rejoicing over that.

The scene outside as shown on the visa-vision
quieted them. They had indeed landed in what must
have once been a spaceport, for the scars of old deter
and rise rocket fire were plain to be marked as the
picture slowly changed. However, there were build-
ings also, towering bulks such as they had never seen
on Elhorn.

To their sight, though those buildings stood at a
distance, there were no signs of erosion or the passing
of time. But neither were there any signs of life. And
Jacel, monitoring his corn, shook his head.

"Nothing. No broadcast except the signal which
brought us in. And it is set—"

Set by whom, why? The questions in Ayana's mind
must be shared by her crew mates. If they had landed
on a silent and deserted world—what had rendered it
so?

Massa was consulting other instruments. "Air—
nothing wrong with that. We can breathe it. The
gravity is a point or two less than we have known.
Otherwise, this is enough like Elhorn to suit us."

"Like Elhorn? With all that to explore!" Tan
waved a hand at the screen where more and. more of
the huge building complex showed as the pickup slow-
ly turned. This must be a city, Ayana decided.
Though it pointed higher into the sky with its towers
and blocks than any city did—or should.

To look at it aroused a queer repugnance in her, a
feeling of reluctance to approach it. As if it were some
crouching animal ready to pounce, perhaps actually
ingest what came too near. She wanted none of those
walls and towers. Yet on the screen the constantly
moving scene proved that their landing site seemed to
be completely surrounded by those buildings.

She could see no green of vegetation. No growth
had seemingly dared to invade this place of stone.
Nor was there any other ship berthed here.

"I think," Jacel said as he leaned back in his seat,
"this place is deserted—"

"Don't be too sure of that!" Tan retorted. "We
could be watched right now. They might well have
some reason to want us to believe no one is here. Just
because you flashed out the old code, or what we be-
lieve is the old code, does not mean that they could
understand it. How long has it been since the First
Ships lifted? We have been on Elhorn five hundred

planet years, but we have no idea how long was their
voyage out, or ours back. A lot can change even in a
single generation."

He pointed out the obvious, but Ayana wished he
would not. With every word he spoke those distant
windows seemed more and more like cold eyes spying
on them. And in all that mass of buildings there could
be many hiding places for those who had no wish to
be found.

"We cannot just stay here in the ship," Jacel said.
"Either we explore here—or we lift, try for a landing
somewhere else."

Ayana saw her head shake mirrored by the others.
Now that they were down, the best thing to do was
abide by their choice—explore.

Fiercely she fought her fears under control. Even if
the people were dead there would be records. And
those records could hold some secret which might halt
the Cloud or otherwise aid those who had struggled to
send them here. They had a duty that was not to be
balked by shadows and uneasy fears. Some rebel emo-
tion, though, replied to that argument; this fear she
felt was not small, and she must work hard to subdue
it.

They ran out the ramp. Tan opened the arms lock-
er, and they all wore blasters at their belts as they
went out. Massa remained on guard at the hatch,
ready to activate the alarms at any sign of danger.
There was a wind, but the sun was warm. Ayana
could detect no odor in the breeze against her face. It
was like any wind, and this might be a fall morning on
her own home world.

"A long time—" Jacel had trotted over to the

nearest burn scar, was down on one knee by that
scorched fringe. "This was done a long time ago." He
held a radiation detect, and-its answering bleat was
low.

Tan stood with his hands on his hips, turning slow-
ly as if he himself was a visa-recorder. "They were
builders!" And there was excitement in his voice as he
added: "What a world to claim! An empty world wait-
ing for us!"

"Do not be too sure." Jacel joined him. "I have a
feeling—" He laughed as one startled and a little dis-
mayed by his own thoughts. "I feel we are being
watched."

Tan's answering laugh had none of the other's apol-
ogetic undertones. He threw out his arms wide and
high. "Ghosts—shadows—let them watch us if they
will. I say mankind has come again to claim his home!
And—let us get busy out there"—he waved to the
buildings—"and find out what awaits us."

But training remained to tame his exuberance a lit-
tle. He did not indeed urge them to instant invasion
of the watching, waiting city (if city it was). He was
content to wait for their agreement that that must be
done. Instead he got busy in the storage compart-
ments, transporting to the open the parts of the flitter
which must be assembled for a flight of discovery.

It was well into late afternoon by. the signs before
the framework of the small flyer was together. Tan
was still working on it when Jacel appeared, stringing
behind him a length of cord, while stacked in his arms
were small boxes. Tan, perched on the nose of the
flyer, hailed him.

"What are you doing?"

"Seeing that we—or the flitter—have no unherald-
ed visitors. Nights can be dark." Jacel set down his
load. Without being asked, Ayana came to help him
place the detects, string cord between them to com-
plete a circle about the flitter.

This was one of the best warning devices they car-
ried. Nothing could cross that circle of cord once it
was set, for it created a repelling field of force. Not
only that, but any attempt to approach would ring
alarms in the ship.

"A trap for ghosts," Tan said. But he did not pro-
test as Jacel carefully triggered each box.

Tan finished and left the flitter, and Jacel made the
final setting. They were safe within the ship once the
ramp was in. For there was no possible way of attack-
ing those holed up in a spacer; the ship was a fort in
itself.

However, Tan seemed reluctant to follow the oth-
ers up the ramp, to seal up for the night. He turned to
look at the towers.

"Tomorrow!" He made a promise of that one word,
spoken loud enough for Ayana to hear. Though
whether he meant it for her or only himself she did
not try to learn.

Tomorrow, yes—there would be no holding Tan
back then. He would circle out, looping wider and
wider with every turn, relaying back all the informa-
tion the instruments on the flitter could pick up.
Then they would learn whether the city was truly
dead or not, for among those devices was one which
registered the presence of life force. They were not al-
together helpless—

Now why had she thought that? As if they were in-

deed under siege and had only the worst to fear?
Ayana ran her tongue across her lips. She had been
passed as emotionally stable, enough so (and the
tests had been as severe as those preparing them
could devise) to be selected for the voyage. But the
minute she had entered this solar system, it was as if
she had been attacked by forces which tampered with
her emotions, threatened that stability in ways she
could not understand. She was a medic—a trained
scientist—yet she feared windows! Now she once
more fought those fears—pushed them back—strove

to conquer them.

They ate, of ship's rations which tonight seemed
even less satisfying and tasteless. Would they find
fruit, or perhaps other food they could stomach here?
She would be a party on the second or third trip—to
be sure no ghost of disease lingered. She would have
to go muffled and clumsy in a protect suit, but that
she had practiced on Elhorn.

"Tan—Ayana!" Massa's voice over the corn and
the excitement in it made Ayana reach for the blaster
on her discarded belt. "Look at the screen!"

Windows were alight! The dark ringing the ship
was not complete. Apparently Massa had set the
pickup on the move again to give them the changing
view. There was one lighted tower and then another.
Not all were alight. Ayana managed to be objective
after her first startled reaction. There were blocks of
lights, then again scattered single ones. Some build-
ings were altogether dark. Such uneven lighting hint-
ed of inhabitants. There were people there—there

had to be!

"Tan—do you see?" Ayana's question was a kind

of plea against his plans for tomorrow. He must not
take off alone, cross that grim, watching place, in the
light flitter. That had a shield, of course, every pro-
tect device they could give it. But above that giant,
and she was sure hostile, pile—

Those lights, surely Tan would accept them as evi-
dence of life. They could lift ship, find one of those
all-dark cities they had marked from space. That was
'only sensible. But she knew she would not have a
chance to argue that when Tan answered:

"Doesn't mean a thing! Do not worry. Big Eyes.
.Those are probably automatic and some circuits have
long gone. Anyway, I have the force shield."

Even his use .of the private name he had for her
(which she cherished because of the sweet intimacy it
stood for)—even that hurt. It was as if he deliber-
ately used it to scoff at her concern. Ayana closed her
eyes to those lights, tried to find sleep and perhaps
dream of the safety of Elhorn before this wild venture
became her life.

The sudden clamor outside this new corridor was one
Furtig had heard before, which set fur erect along his
spine, flattened his ears to his skull, parted his lips to
hiss. He caught an echo of that hiss from Ku-La. Yet
in a second or two both realized that this was not the
hunting cry of a Barker pack.

No, it held pain and fear rather than the hot
triumph of the hunter upon his quarry. Furtig, belly
down on the floor of the corridor, wriggled forward to
peer through the transparent outer wall.

There was the Barker, threshing wildly ^Q'Jt one
foot—no,afoo^aad £ ^S^ caught in something. He
'•v'as in such a frenzy that he snapped with his well-
fanged jaws, striving to cut what held him. Then his
head was caught! His flailing body fell, or was jerked,
to the ground. Seconds later he was so trapped in the
substance which had entangled him that he could not
move save in spasmodic jerks, each of which worsened
his plight. His baying came in muffled snorts.

They came running from concealment where even
Furtig's sharp sight had not detected them. Rattons
—a gray-brown wave of them. They piled on the Bark-
er, seeming to have no fear of what had felled him,
and began to drag the captive away.

Toward this building! Furtig hissed again. He had
not smelled Ratton, seen Ratton, heard Ratton, since
they had come through that break in the wall into
these corridors. But if the Rattons were towing their
catch into this structure, it was time to be gone.

He crept back to Ku-La, reporting what he had
witnessed.

"A stick-in trap. They coat the ground with some-
thing you cannot see or scent, but it entangles you
speedily," the other said.

"Yet they went to the Barker, handled him without
getting stuck—"

"True. We do not know how they are able to do
that. Perhaps they put something on themselves to
repel the trap. We only know—to our sorrow—how it
works on us!"

"A Barker in the lairs—" Furtig picked up the bag
of tapes, was ready to help Ku-La on. "A scout?"

"Perhaps. Or they may also seek knowledge." Ku-
La gSVK a^ involuntary cry as he pulled himself up.
He was limping very badly, AeSpiT^ io^ng_by will
alone, Furtig knew.

His admiration for the other's determination and
fight against pain had grown. No longer did he
wonder why he had endangered his mission to rescue
Ku-La; he accepted him as a comrade like Foskatt.

"If they bring the Barker here," he began warning-
ly. It seemed cruel to keep urging Ku-La on, but Fur-

tig had lately picked up the homing signal in his
mind, knew their goal, and also that they dared waste
no time in these dangerous corridors.

"True. Though Rattons seem to have little liking for
going aloft," Ku-La commented, drawing small
breaths between words. "They keep mainly to the
lower ways."

They rounded a curve in the wall. Furtig stayed
close to the inner wall; that long expanse of almost in-
visible surface on the outer made him uneasy. Today
that feeling was worse as the wind and rain beat hard
in gusts which vibrated in the walls about them.

But—as they rounded that curve, looked out upon
a new expanse of open, Furtig came to a halt— Light
—a moving light!

It rose from the ground, soaring high as if a flying
thing carried a huge hand lamp. Now it danced back
and forth erratically in the sky, swooping out and
away. And through the curtain of the rain Furtig
could not follow it far.

Ku-La made a sharp sound. "A sky-ship—a sky-
ship of the Demons!"

Furtig did not want to accept that. In fact at that
moment he discovered he had never really believed in
Demon return. But there was such conviction in Ku-
La's identification that belief was now forced on him.

The return of the Demons! Even in the caves of the
People such a foreboding had been used as a horrible
warning for the young. But as one grew older, one no
longer could be frightened so. Only enough remained
of the early chill of such tales to make one's blood run
faster at such a time as this.

One ship—a scout? Just as the People sent one

warrior, two, three, ahead to test the strength of the
enemy, the lay of the land, how it might be used for
offense or defense before a clan moved into hunt?

Such a scout could be cut off. And, with small clans,
the loss of a warrior was warning enough. They fell
back, sought another trail. No tribe was large enough
to take the loss of seasoned warriors as less than a
major calamity.

Only, in the old tales the Demons had been count-
less. Cutting off a single scout would not discourage a
migrating tribe with many warriors. Gammage might
have an answer; he was the only one among the Peo-
ple now who would.

"We must hurry—" Furtig said, though he still
watched for that light marking the Demon ship.

Furtig leaped back toward the inner wall. No light,
yet something had almost brushed the rain-wet outer
wall—something far larger than any flying thing he
had ever seen. Luckily there were no wall lights here,
nothing except the wan daylight. Perhaps they were
lucky, and the flying thing in its swift passage had not
seen them. For Furtig had the dire feeling that it
might possess the power to smash through the trans-
parent wall, scoop them out, were such action desired.

"Move!" He shoved Ku-La with his free hand. The
other needed no urging; he was already hobbling at
the best pace he had shown during their long, painful
journey. As if the sight of that Demon thing had
spurred him to transcend the wounds he bore.

They reached a second curve in the corridor, and
this time Furtig gave a sigh of relief. For that trans-
parent wall which made him feel so vulnerable van-
ished, there were solid barriers on either side.

That relief was very short, for they came soon to
one of those bridges in the air. Furtig crouched, peer-
ing into the outer storm, his hands cupped over his
eyes. What made his disappointment the greater was
that they were now close to their goal. For he recog-
nized the tower at the other end of the bridge as the
building in which he and Fosk-att had tested the com-
munication box. They need only cross this span and
they would be in their, or Furtig's, home territory.

Only, to cross, they must go along that narrow and
slippery way, under not only the beating of the wind
and rain, but perhaps also the threat of the flying
thing. He thought he could do it—the People were
surefooted. But Ku-La—

The other might be reading his thought. "What lies
there?" His throaty voice was near a growl.

"The lair where my people hold."

"Safety of a kind then. Well, we can do no less than
try to reach it."

"You are willing to try?" Surely the other could see
his danger. But if he chose to go, then Furtig would
do what he could to aid him.

He pulled out that cord which had served them so
well, was preparing to loop them together belt to belt.
But the other pushed his hands aside.

"No! I shall take the way four-footed. And do not
link us—better one fall than both, the second without
cause."

"Go you first then," Furtig replied. He did not
know what he might be able to do if the other, un-
linked, did slip. But he felt that if he could keep Ku-
La before his eyes during that crossing he might be

able to help in some fashion. And four-footed was
surely the best way for them both.

Not only would it make them more sure-footed, but
it would also make them less distinguishable to the
flying thing. If they were unlucky enough to have
that return.

The rain hit them like a blow, and Ku-La moved
under its pounding very slowly. While Furtig wanted
nothing so much as to be free to leap over that creep-
ing shape before him and run with all possible speed
to the promised safety of the far doorway. Yet he
crawled behind Ku-La, the bag of record tapes slung
about him, the water soaking his fur and trickling
from his whiskers. He did not even raise his head far
enough to see the doorway; rather he concentrated on
Ku-La.

Twice the other halted, went flat as if his last
strength had oozed away with the water pouring on
him. But each time, just as Furtig reached forth a
hand to try to rouse him, he levered up to struggle on.

They had passed the halfway point, though neither
of them was aware of that in the agony of that slow
advance, when the sound came. It was warning
enough to flatten them both to the bridge, striving to
give no sign of life as the thing drew closer.

It did not scream as one of the preying flying
things, nor give voice in any way Furtig recognized.
This sound was a continuous beat-beat. First to the
left as if it hung in open space viewing them, then
overhead. Furtig's nerve almost crumbled then. He
could somehow see in his mind giant claws reaching
out—coming closer—ready to sink into his body, bear
him away.

So intent was he on that fearful mental picture that
he was not even aware that the beat-beat was growing
fainter, not until it had vanished. He lay on the
bridge, unharmed, able to move. And the thing was
gone! Had—had it taken Ku-La then, without his
knowing it in the depths of his fear?

But when Furtig raised his head the other was
there, stirring to life, creeping—

If they had time now before the thing returned—!
For somehow Furtig could not believe that it was going
to let them go so easily. There was a menace in it which
he had sensed. And that sense he trusted, for it was
one of the built-in protections of his kind and had
saved lives many times over. The flying thing was to
be feared, perhaps as much, if not more, than any-
thing he had ever in his life faced before.

Tan ran a finger approvingly along the edge of the re-
corder. Got a good taping there. Tan's luck again. He
smiled. Tan's luck was something which once or twice
had made a real impression on the trainees back on
Elhorn. He had managed so many times, usually
through no reason he was aware of, to be at just the
right place at the right moment, or to make the right
move, even when he had no idea whether it was right
or wrong.

So—with all those faint life-readings he had picked
up in this pile but nothing in the open where he could
get a visual record, it was his luck to catch that thing
or things (in that poor visibility they had looked like
blobs as far as he was concerned)—right out in the
open. They might have posed to order so he could get
a good tape.

Blobs—certainly they did not look like men. He
had' sighted them edging out on the bridge and they
had wriggled along there, almost as if they were cross-
ing on their bellies. Nothing about them to suggest
they were of his species at all. Tan tried to picture
men crawling on hands and knees. Would the blobs
resemble those? Could be. Except they were smaller
than men—children?

But what would children be doing out alone in such
a storm as this, crawling from one building to the
next? No, easier to believe that they were something
else, not human at all.

Tan was no longer smiling. After all, they had
never discovered what had sent the First Ship people
to Elhorn. It had been a very strong motive, not only
to force them to take the perilous trip across space,
but to leave them so intent thereafter on suppressing
all they could of the world of their origin and the rea-
son for colonizing another.

Tan had picked up some dim life-readings here, but.
not, oddly enough, in the buildings which had shown
the greatest wealth of lights at night. No—they were
widely scattered. And the readings varied. Enough
that Ayana ought to be able to make something out of
the variance. Such would not show up so plainly just
because the pickup carried over unequal distances. It
was more as if the life forms themselves varied. At
least he had a reading and a picture of the blobs to
turn in and that would give them a beginning refer-
ence.

And—there was not a single one of these life-

readings which touched the proper coordinate for man
on the measuring scale. That was what had made him
buzz lower and lower, hang between the towers in a
reckless fashion, trying to pick up as many registra-
tions on the tapes as he could.

Men had built this place. Tan knew enough from
his race's own fragmented records to recognize the
form of architecture of his ancestors. But if there were
no readings for "man" here—what did live within
these walls?

The enemy of which they had no records? Only sur-
mises presented by their imaginations? If the former,
then the enemy was those blobs, and the quicker they
were identified the better. Tan turned the flitter,
swept out and away from the structures, heading for
the ship with the small scraps of knowledge his first
scouting flight had gained.

There was no beat-beat now—none at all. Ku-La
scrambled ahead with a burst of speed Furtig hoped
would not hurl him off that narrow way. But—in the
doorway ahead was movement!

Rattons? Barkers? Furtig had the Demon weapon.
The past hours had conditioned him to expect the
worst, even in the People's lairs. Then he made out a
furred head— They were coming forward to aid Ku-
La—his own kind at last!

Gammage was at ease on the wide bed place. His tail
curled across his thighs, and only the tip of it, twitch-
ing now and then, betrayed his excitement at Furtig's
report.

The tapes had been carried off by the In-bom
trained to evaluate them. And a picked group, led by
Foskatt, had set out to salvage the rest of Furtig's
haul from where he had left it in the ducts.

Ku-La was in the room of healing, and Furtig was
finding it difficult to keep his eyes open, his mind
alert to answer the Ancestor's questions. But he dis-
covered to his amazement that Gammage was not
startled by the flying thing.

That a Demon sky-ship had landed was already
known to the lair People. Its coming had been fore-
told by certain watchers who were not of flesh and
blood, but servants of metal. When those gave the
alert, the People had first been baffled, then made
guesses as to the cause for alarm. And, hiding out,
scouts had witnessed the actual landing of the ship.

Every device which could be put to defense or used
to gain knowledge of the invaders had been trained on
that ship. Without, it was hoped, having yet aroused
the suspicions of the old masters of the lairs.

"They are indeed Demons," Gammage said. "Drink
this, clan son, it will warm you. It is made of leaves
and is refreshing to our spirits."

He waited while Furtig sipped from the bowl Liliha
brought him. She did not leave, but settled on the
other end of Gammage's divan as one who had a
rightful part in this conference. Furtig was aware she
watched him unblinkingly. He wondered if she did so
to weigh within her own mind the truth of his tale.

The odor of the hot liquid was enticing, so much so
that just to sniff its vapor raised his spirits, gave him
courage, and renewed his energy. The .taste was as
good as the scent. The feeling of warmth that spread
through him made him even more drowsy than he had

been. But two full swallows were all that he took,
holding the cup from him lest his pleasure in its con-
tents cloak his mind to what must be firmly faced.

"We viewed them through those glasses which
bring the far close," Gammage continued. "They
brought many things from their ship and put together
a flying thing. By that time it was night, and they
went again into the ship and closed it, as if they be-
lieved they might be in danger. Four, of them only,
though there may be more inside we did not see.

"With the morning, in spite of the storm, out came
forth and entered the flying thing. He raised it into
the air and flew back and forth, in and out, among the
buildings. He did not try to land, but hovered above.
As if the Demon sought something. But we cannot
guess what he sought, nor the manner of his seeking.
With Demons—who can know?"

"He found us on the bridge," Furtig returned. "But
he did not attack, only stayed above us for a space
and then flew away."

"Returning," Liliha said, "to the ship. It could be
that when he hung above you he marked who—or what
—you were."

Gammage chewed reflectively on a claw tip. "What
you found, with the aid of Ku-La, is a treasure of
knowledge. But whether we shall be given time to use
it is another matter. If these Demons plan to reclaim
the lairs I am not sure we can defeat their purpose."

"You can withdraw—to the caves—as our fore-
fathers did when the Demons hunted them before,"
Furtig suggested.

"That is the last resort. The lairs are very large
and, as you proved, clan son, there are ways we small-

er people can travel in secret. The Demons cannot
force their greater bodies into such passages."

"Perhaps we shall be both Demon-hunted and Rat-
ton-attacked in the end." Furtig saw the gloomiest of

futures.

"There are also the Barkers—" Gammage chewed

again on his claw.

For the moment Furtig was content enough to sit
and let his fur dry in the warmth of the chamber, sniff
at the odor of his good drink, and now and then sip it.
But he longed for sleep; even if t}ie Demons were to
tramp these corridors soon, a warrior had to sleep.

He fought his eyes' closing by drinking the last of
the liquid. Gammage spoke again:

"The Barkers are not ones to take kindly to the
trapping of their scout. Unlike our people, they are
happiest in the pack rubbing shoulders to the next.
And they will move as a pack to avenge their kind."

What the Ancestor said was no more than all knew.
You killed or took a Barker prisoner, and you had to
face his fellows in force. It was one of the things that
made the Barkers so feared.

"They hunt by scent." Still the Ancestor recited
common knowledge. "Therefore they will trail in here,
and find the trap of the Rattons. The Rattons will
take to inner ways, and in doing so, they may escape
the Barkers. But—if the Barkers invade they can well

pick up our scent—

"Ku-La, when he is healed, will go to his people and
invite them to join us. As he has told me, those know
about the Demons, and the lairs—of how we must
labor to save what we have learned. If we take to the
wilds, it will need many backs and hands to help carry

what we must. Therefore, as Ku-La goes to his tribe,
so must you and Foskatt go to the caves. There you
must tell them of the coming evil and that they must
send their warriors—or bring hither all the People—"

"Do you think they will listen to me, Ancestor? I
am not an Elder, I am one who failed in the Trials,
and went forth from the caves. Will they heed my
words? You know our clans and that they are slow to
believe in new things."

"You speak as a youngling, clan son. From here
you will carry certain things to impress the Elders.
And you do not go alone—"

"Yes, Foskatt, too." But privately Furtig thought
Foskatt, for all his longer time in the lairs, would have
little more weight than he had himself.

Gammage had been a long time away from the
caves, he had forgotten the hold of custom on those
living there.

"Besides Foskatt," Gammage said, "Liliha goes,
also, by her own choice. And she, as well as you, shall
take weapons such as those of the caves have no
knowledge of. These are gifts, and you shall promise
more if your people come to us.

"This," he continued, "will be easily done—"

Furtig did not agree with that statement in the
least, but he had no chance to protest, as the Ances-
tor swept on—

"The Barker must be found. If he still lives, he
must be freed and returned to his People. That will
give us for the first time a small chance of holding a
truce talk with them. Otherwise they will storm into
the lairs, perhaps causing a disaster at the time when
we must unite against Demons, not war among ou>

selves. Now we have a common cause with even

Barkers."

So they were back to Gammage's wish, that all the

peoples, even those hereditary enemies, make a com-
mon cause against the greater menace. Listening to
him, sometimes one could almost believe that would
work. But perhaps he would even suggest sending a

truce flag to the Rations—!

Apparently Gammage was not prepared to go that
far. He was nodding a little, his tail tip beating back

and forth.

"To the Barkers we shall suggest a truce. The Rat-
tons—no—we cannot deal with them in any way!
They are as accursed as the Demons and always have
been. We must warn whom we can to stand together.
Liliha, see to the clan son. I think he sleeps now, even
though his eyes are open!"

Furtig heard that as a distant murmur. There was
a touch on his arm. Somehow he blundered to his feet
and wavered off, that light touch steering him this
way and that, until he had come to his own bed place

and stretched out there.

Demon—Ratton—Barker—sleep won out over all.

174

12

"Animals!" But even as Ayana spoke she knew that
was not true. Yes, those bodies were furred. And they
had tails. But neither could it be denied that they
wore belts around their waists, and attached to the
belt of one was a laser! The thing was armed with a
weapon much like the most potent in the ship's locker.

She studied the scene on the record reader into
whichTS^kas-f^ki^^- Th(> lig^ was admittedly
poor, but the longer she looked ihs Jn07S ."^ details
she could see. Animal, no, but neither was it like her
norm for "man."

However, it had a haunting familiarity. And it car-
ried a lumpy burden—the rear one of the two, that
is—on its back. Animals were used so. What of the
gorks on Elhorn—ungainly, half-feathered, half-scaled,
of avion descent but lacking their ancestors' wings2
For an instant or two she remembered gorks with a
homesick nostalgia.

No, the bundle did not mean that the creatures on

the bridge were' servants of men—not as the gorks
served. Not when one of them also wore a laser. Still
—she was teased by a wisp of memory.

"Animal—you are sure?" Jacel roused her from

that search.

"No, it is armed and wearing the belt—how can we

be sure?"

"It is matched with this life-reading." Massa con-
sulted the dial. "And there are similar life-readings
here, here, and here." The computer had produced a
sketch map earlier and Massa's pointer tapped that.
"Now here, and here are two other readings of a dif-
ferent type, one differing from the other—three kinds
in all." She made checks now on the map surface with
yellow for the first, red for the second, blue for the

last.

Yellow marked the building toward which the two
on the bridge headed, red lay behind them.

"Those blue—they are near the outer rim." Tan
surveyed the results with satisfaction. He had brought
back enough to keep the computer busy. Catching
those two in the open had been the^erxiw"^., ^tr or
luck—Tan's luck.

"The creature to the fore,"—Ayana moved closer,
"it has been hurt." Her medic-trained eyes were not
deceived by the effects of rain and wet fur. Was she
watching part of a drama such as one had on a story
tape—perhaps the rescue of a wounded comrade from

the enemy?

"Fighting?" Tan sounded excited. "Two species at

war?"

She looked up from the screen, startled by that
note in his voice. His eyes were shining. It took a cer-

tain temperament to produce a scout. Tan had tested
high in all the attributes the commanders believed
necessary. But there had followed rigid training. And
the Tan who had survived that training, winning over
all others to gain his place with this crew, was not ex-
actly the same Tan to whom she had been drawn.

Ayana knew that her own place in the ship depend-
ed not only on her ability to do her own job, but also
on the fact that she was a complement to Tan, sup-
plying what he lacked. It was the same with Jacel and
Massa. They had to complement one another or they
would not have been put together to form a crew, nec-
essarily living closely during the voyage; their person-
alities were so related as to assure the least possible
friction.

But now there was something in Tan Ayana shrank
from, refused to face. The Tan who had come out of
the grueling training had a hardness which she secret-
ly feared. He could look upon that wounded budv
dragging P^nfuUy alon^a^^^ thought of was

t,K struggle which had caused those hurts. It was as if
he actually wanted to watch such a battle. And that
Tan—no, she would not believe that that Tan was the
ruler of the mind and body she loved.

"But there is not"—Massa, frowning, paid no at-
tention to Tan's comment "a single life-reading for
our own kind! Yet this is a city built by man. We have
landed on a site such as our fathers made on Elhorn,
save that they did not ring it about there with a
city—a city so vast that Tan's record"—she shook
her head—"is more than we expected—"

"Expected?" Tan challenged that. "We can e-.pect
anything here! This is the world which sent ths First

Ships into space, where secrets, all the secrets we
need, lie waiting!"

"And from which," Jacel pointed out dryly, "our
own kind seems to have gone. We had better keep
that in mind when we go prying about for secrets, lest
some of those we find are other than we care to own or
discover. Do not forget that this city has inhabi-
tants—such as these—" He pointed to the reader.
"And do not forget either. Tan, that those men of
mighty secrets, our parents of the First Ships, fled in
such fear that they tried to keep hidden the very
existence of this world."

Tan looked impatient. "We have protection that
those animals do not know of—"

"Animals who carry lasers?" Jacel was not to be
shaken. "And if this is indeed a storehouse of waiting
secrets, perhaps some of them are already in the
paws—or hands—of those who intend to keep them.
'We walk softly, slowly, and with all care now. Or it
may be, in spite of caution, u^ rease t0 walk at alu'

He did not put any undue emphasis on thoseTffWtS.
Yet they carried the force of an order. Ayana hoped
that the conditioning they had all accepted—that the
will of Jacel was to hold in any final decision—would
continue to control Tan. Let him work off his rest-
lessness, his energy, in his sky exploration of the city.

It would seem that her hopes held the next day.
The storm died before midnight, and sunrise brought
a fair day. The light caught the windows in the build-
ings, some of which did not seem windows at all but
clear bands running in levels around the towers. And
those blazed as the sun struck them fairly.

Tan took off in the flitter, this time to trace .the
outer boundaries of the city. Again.he carried equip-
ment to feed back to their computer all the data he
gained. The others did not lift ramp at once, but set
out sensors to pick up any approach at ground level.
Jacel supervised that, being very careful about the
linkage. When he had finished he stood up.

"Nothing can pass that. A blade of grass blown by
the wind would cause an alarm," he said with* convic-
tion.

Ayana had climbed part way up the ramp. She
shaded her eyes against the steadily warming blaze of
the sun, tried to view the flitter. But Tan must have
streaked straight away, wasting no time hovering as
he had yesterday.

That furred creature, the hurt one—it must have
long since reached the tower. She wished she could re-
member why it seemed so familiar. The records of the
First Ships, because of that destruction, often with-
held just the details one needed most.

Oddly enough it came to her back in her own cabin,
and from the strangest source. She had been led by
that feeling of nostalgia to open her small packet of
allowed personal items. They were, perhaps to a
stranger, a queer collection. There was a flower pre-
served between two inch-wide squares of permaplast,
its violet-blue as richly vivid as it had been when she
had encased it. And a water-worn pebble that came
from the stream outside her home at Veeve Station.
She had kept it because the crystalline half was so
oddly joined to the black stone. And then there was
Putti—

Ayana stared now at Putti wide-eyed. There had
always been Puttis—round and soft, made for chil-
dren. They were traditional and common. She had
kept hers because it was the last thing her mother
had made before she died of the one illness on Elhorn
they had found no remedy for. Puttis were four-
legged and tailed. Their heads were round, with shin-
ing eyes made of buttons or beads, upstanding point-
ed ears, whiskers above the small mouth. Puttis were
loved, played with, adored in the child world; their or-
igin was those brought by children on the First Ships.

She had seen one of those original Puttis, also pre-
served in permaplast. And that one had been covered
with fur.

Putti! She could not be right, to compare the soft
toy with that muscular furred creature on the bridge.
But Putti could have been made by someone trying to
represent just such a creature in softer materials than
flesh, blood, and bone. She was about to start up, to
hunt Jacel and Massa with news of her discovery,
when second thoughts argued against that. The re-
semblance, now that she studied Putti closely, grew
less and less. She might make the connection in her
own mind, but that was not proof. Putti, a toy—and a
weapon-bearing primitive (if not an animal) skulking
through buildings long deserted by her kind— No, it
was foolish to expect the others to accept that suspi-
cion.

Furtig held the platter of meat on his knee and tried
to show proper manners by not stuffing his mouth or
chewing too loudly. He was hungry, but there was Li-
liha, smoothing her tail as she rested on a thick cush-
ion, now and then fastidiously flicking some small

suggestion of dust from her fur. He could hear. Just,
her very muted throat purr, as if she were lost in some
pleasant dream. But he did not doubt she was aware
of every move he made. So he curbed his appetite and
tried to copy the restraint of the In-bom.

"The flyer"—she broke her self-absorption—"is in
the air again. It does not hang above us but has head-
ed toward the west. Dolar and two scouts saw it rise.
There was a Demon in it."

"It is not like the servants here then, able to go on
its own?" Furtig wanted to keep her talking. Just to
have Liliha sitting there while he ate, relaxed in the
thought that he had won to safety through such ad-.
ventures as most warriors never dreamed of, and that
he had rested well and was ready to follow the outer
trails again, was pleasing.

"So it would seem. They made it of pieces they
brought in the sky-ship."

Furtig marveled at her patience. He should have re-
membered that; Gammage had spoken of it the night
before. But at that time Furtig had not been thinking
too clearly. Now he glanced up hastily, but Liliha was
not eyeing him with scorn.

"If they made it," she continued, "then within
these lairs may lie that which can also be used for the
same purpose. Gammage has set those who watched
the making into search for such."

Privately Furtig did not doubt that, given the time
and the means, the Ancestor and his followers would
be able to duplicate the flyer. But then to find some-
one to fly in it—that was a different matter. Though
he could imagine Gammage ready to make the at-
tempt if offered the chance. He, himself, preferred to

do his traveling—and any fighting—on the solid and
dependable ground. But there were advantages to
such craft. They could take a scout higher than any
spy tree. Just as the Demon was now viewing the lairs
from above.

On the other hand, unless the Demon had some un-
heard-of way of looking through solid roofs and walls,
he would see only the lairs and not what or who
moved in them under cover. Only in the open country
could such servants be used to advantage..

Furtig swallowed the last mouthful of meat. Now
he raised the bowl and lapped as mannerly as he could
at the residue of good juices gathered in the bottom,
The lair people lived well. They had fish, found in
small inner lakes (made it would seem for no other
purpose than to hold them in readiness to be eaten).
And there were other places where birds and rabbits
were preserved in runs, fed and kept safe until they
were needed.

The cave people might well think of that. Suppose 
they kept alive some of the creatures they hunted or
netted, fed them in pens. Then when game became
scarce and the weather ill for hunters, there would be
food at hand. Yes, there were more things than 
Demon knowledge to be learned here in the lairs.

He ran his tongue along the bowl rim to gather up
the last drop, then licked upper and lower lips clean.

"What of the Barker?" he asked.

He still believed that Gammage's plan of trying to
make truce with Barkers would not work. But he was
also wary of guessing the outcome of any of the An-
cestor's plans. He had witnessed too much of what
had been accomplished here for that.

"Dolar has sent a party with two of the rumblers.
The Rations fear those greatly, for they run forward,
crunching all in their path, and cannot be turned
aside in any way the Rattons have yet discovered.
With those to break a path for our warriors we hope
to free the Barker. In the meantime—Foskatt has
found the other tapes, and they are being brought
back. Ku-La is out of the healing place. Soon he will
go to talk to his people."

"As I must to the Elders of the caves." Furtig stood
up. He was no longer tired, nor was his fur matted by
crawling through the dust of the ducts and then
through the pelting of the storm. It was sleek and
smooth. He fastened on his belt neatly, seeing that in
the newly improvised loop there was still the light-
ning-bolt weapon of the Demons. Apparently that
was yet his.

Such a weapon would impress the Elders. If he re-
membered rightly Gammage's words during that last
meeting, he would be given other weapons to influ-
ence their decision. The sooner he took the trail to
that purpose then, the better. He said so as he fin-
ished checking his belt.

"Well enough," Liliha agreed. Her guidance would
take them through the lairs to the best point from
which to strike out for the caves.

Furtig had slept a long time, almost a full day. It
was close on evening and shadows were painting
larger and larger pools for concealment as, at last, the
three of them threaded a way through silent corri-
dors, past echoing rooms which might not have known
life and use since the Demons died or fled. As a guide
Liliha went first, wearing a pack between her slim
shoulders and around her waist the same belt of tools
and weapons as the warriors wore. Then came Furtig
and Foskatt, ready to play rear guard if needed.

They must move their swiftest while under the pro-
tection of the lair roofs, Furtig thought. For he did
not forget the flyer. Why the Demon had not killed
them on the bridge was a mystery to him. And he did
not want death to strike out of the sky now. It was
difficult enough to fight at ground level.

If Demons could see in the dark, then even the
coming of night would not aid them. To the end of the
lairs they could keep under cover, descending to the
underground ways when there was need. But Furtig
did not forget that wide expanse of open between the
lairs and the beginning of the growth that provided
normal cover for his kind. He hoped the night would
be cloudy when they reached that point.

Liliha brought them to a window from which they
could see that open space. They were at the edge of
the lairs. Furtig's sense of direction was in operation.
They were to the north of that place where he had
crossed before, but not too much so.

He studied the strip narrowly. His own fur was
dark, not far different in shade from the withered
grass. And Foskatt had the same natural adaptation
to the country. It was different for Liliha. Not only
was her fur lighter, but it was so thin a coating of fluff
that she might well be sighted from above.

"Look you, woods warriors," she said as he com-
mented on that. She slipped off her pack and shook
out something she had taken from it. Now she held
not a small square but a mass of something—

Furtig shook his head and tried to concentrate on

what she held. But it was no use—his keen sight
failed him. He could not look at it directly! To do so
made him queasy. He wanted to strike out, tear that
disturbing substance from her.

But she was winding it about her. And where that
stuff covered her body, he could no longer look. Final-
ly only her head remained free of the distortion.

"Another Demon secret, and one but lately discov-
ered. Gammage has but two of these, cut from a single
one. When I wear this no one can look at me. Unless
he wishes to have his eyes turn this way, that way,
and his head whirl about. Now, do not worry about
me, look to yourselves, warriors, and cross quickly.
The flyer makes itself known by noise. If you hear it
coming, take what cover the land offers.

"I-shall meet you where the trees grow. Good .trav-
eling to you."

Furtig could not look at her at all now. She had
pulled a flap of the distorting stuff up over her head
and become hidden. He had to turn away and knew
she slipped out the window only by the faint sounds
made by her going.

"The Demons," remarked Foskatt, "seem to have
an answer for any problem. Let us hope that such an-
swers can, in turn, be used against them. She is well
gone. It is indeed a kind of hiding I am glad we do
not have to deal with often. To the trail then, clan
brother!"

The window was wide enough to let them slip
through together. Furtig crouched on the ground al-
most happily. It was good to feel fresh soil and not
pavement, the ways of the Demons. He did not look
ahead yet, having no wish to see some eye-twisting

shimmer in the moonlight covering Liliha's going. His
hunter's training took over, and he fell back into the
patterns he had learned as a youngling.

It was difficult to keep on listening for the beat in
the sky, the possible return of the flyer. Once within
the screen of the brush beyond the open, Furtig rose
to his full height and gave a purring sigh of relief.

"For so far," Foskatt echoed his feeling, "we have
done well. But—"

Furtig swung around. He had picked up a scent
that was not Liliha's. No, this was strong and rank.
He was downwind of a Tusker, probably more than
one. And that surprised him, for Tuskers had no in-
terest in the lairs, very little curiosity about their
past, and were seldom to be found hereabouts.

There was still a truce between the People and the
Tuskers. And they shared the same territories, since
the Tuskers fed upon roots and vegetation. Though
the Tuskers were meat, they had no appeal for the
People, they were far too formidable to be prey.

Furtig could hear now that low grunting which was
Tusker speech. None of the People could imitate it,
any more than Tusker throat and tongue could shape
the proper words of a warrior. But they understood
sign language and could answer it.

A warning? Did the Tuskers know of the flyer? It
might be well to suggest that they keep under cover.
Furtig uttered a low wailing cry to announce his com-
ing. And without waiting to see if Foskatt followed,
swung into the heavy, disagreeable scent which would
lead him to the grubbing ones.

When he reached them, they were in battle forma-

tion, their big heads, weighed down by the great
curved tusks which named them, low to the ground.
The old warriors stood still, watching with their small
red eyes. One or two of the younger ones on the back
fringes of the party pawed the soil, kicking it up in
warning.

They were not a full family party as Furtig had ex-
pected. There were no females or younglings behind
that outer defense of one great Elder and such of his
male offspring as had not yet gone to start their own
families. Furtig knew that Elder—the seam of an old
scar across his nose marked him. Unlike the People
the Tuskers had kept to four feet, never learning to
walk on two. Also they used no weapons except those
nature provided. But mind to mind they were no less
than warriors of the caves or the lairs.

Furtig saw that they were deeply angered and
would have to be approached with care. For the
temper of such as Broken Nose was uncertain when
he was in such a mood. Furtig advanced no closer, but
sat down, curling his tail over his feet in a peace sign.

The younger Tuskers snorted. One pawed again,
wrinkling lips to show fangs. Furtig paid them no at-
tention. It was Broken Nose who ruled here. Having
waited for a small time to show that he had not only
come in peace but for good reason, he held out his
hands and began to try to tell the complicated story
of the Demons' landing, of the flyer, in a series of
signs.

One of the younglings grunted and his neighbor
shouldered him roughly into silence. Encouraged,
Furtig ran through his signs slowly, began to tell the
same tale again. This was no exchange of general

news about the countryside; he must improvise signs
to explain things totally new to both their peoples.

And having told it twice, he could only wait to see
if he had been clever enough to get his message into a
form Broken Nose could understand. For a very long
moment he waited and his heart sank. The boar made
no move. It could be Furtig had failed. He was about
to begin again when Broken Nose grunted.

One of the younger of his band moved forward a lit-
tle. He squatted clumsily on his haunches, balancing
so he could raise one hoofed foot from the ground to
gesture or use to draw in the leaf mold.

It was a complicated business that exchange of in-
formation. But at last Furtig thought he had the
story, and his fur stiffened and he hissed.

The Tuskers had witnessed the landing of the
Demon ship, though its final settling to the ground
had been hidden by the lairs. The unusual flashing of
fire had alarmed Broken Nose. He was old and wily
enough to know that suspicion and safety went hand
in hand. So he had sent his females and younglings
into what he believed good hiding in a rock-walled
place where there was but one entrance, which would
be well defended by two nonbreed'ing females, both
formidable opponents. Then he, with his warriors, had
set out to discover the meaning of the strange fire.

Having prowled along the edge of the flat lands
beyond the lairs, they had decided there was no
danger and had withdrawn. But they had been start-
ing out of their stronghold among the rocks only this
afternoon when the flyer had appeared.

There was a sudden giddiness, a strange feeling in
their heads. Even Broken Nose had fallen as one
gored. From the belly of the flyer had come what the
Tusker could only describe as a long root. This had
somehow caught up two of the smallest younglings,
jerked them aloft. Then the flyer had gone away.

It was Broken Nose's firm intention to track down
the attacker and wreak full vengeance—though he
was clever enough not to charge in, but to scout the
enemy position first. And the fact that he had seen
the flyer disappear into the lairs had shaken him. For
that was country he did not know, and many dangers
might lurk there.

"Hunters—at least of Tuskers—" Foskatt spoke for
the first time.

The soft growl in Furtig's throat grew louder. Not
that he had any kin ties with the young of the Tusk-
ers. But if today it had been those of Broken Nose
who disappeared into the flyer, tomorrow that might
appear at the caves and lift some youngling Furtig
knew.

That there was any hope of freeing the captives he
doubted. And Furtig thought the old Tusker knew
that, knew also that his proposed expedition against
the lairs would be hopeless.

Alone, yes. But what if Gammage's urging could
not only bring the People, but the Tuskers as well?
Furtig rubbed his hands across {???riiS iUF^Sd} chest, tried
to think out telling signs for communication.

Furtig was startled by a sharp grunt from one of
the young Tuskers. A moment later the familiar scent
of Liliha filled his nostrils. She came to sit down be-
side him, no longer muffled in that distorting materi-
al. And her coming gave him an idea of how to ap-
proach the Tusker Elder.

Swiftly he began to sign, trying to put all the
meaning he could into that flexing of fingers, waving
of hands, drawing on the ground. The moon was full
tonight, and this small clearing was well lighted.

The Tuskers appeared to follow the explanation
that this female was one who lived in the lairs, one
who sought the secrets of the Demons in order to de-
feat them with their own weapons. Having finished,
Furtig spoke to Liliha without turning his head:

"Show them something to prove the powers of the
lairs."

There on the ground where he had drawn suddenly
shone a round of yellow light. The Tuskers grunted.
Furtig could hear the youngsters stamp nervously,
though Broken Nose betrayed no sign of surprise. As
Elder he must so assert his superiority.

"This"—Furtig moved his hands into that light—
"is one of the secrets of the lairs. We have others,
many others. So that this time the Demons will not
find us defenseless. There is one ship of them only,
and we have counted but four Demons."

"Scouts may run before the tribe," pawed out the
young boar. "There may be many more coming."

"True. But now we are warned. There are many
hiding places in the lairs." Furtig was eett^g IT little
excited. It miffhf ^g ne was going to win allies for
vJrttmmage even before he reached the caves and had
to face the skepticism of his own Elders.

"And no dangers?"

"There are Rattons there, on the lower levels."

This time Broken Nose himself grunted. Rattons
could be understood better than Demons. If the Tusk-
ers had not seen Rattons, they had heard of them
and their devilish traps. Then Foskatt spoke softly:

"We have little time to argue with the Tuskers.
This is a matter of our own people."

He was right. They had delivered a warning to the
Tuskers, who must now make their own decision to
flee beyond the range of the flyer or to stand and
fight. Furtig began the last signs—

"We go to our people. But watch for the flyer—
stay under cover."

Again Broken Nose grunted. This was an order to
his own followers, for they turned and trotted into the
bushes, only the old boar and his interpreter linger-
ing. The latter signed:

"We stay to watch."

Furtig was glad of their choice. Those eyes in the
huge tusked head, swung low before him, seemed
small. But he knew their keen vision. There was no
more deadly foe to be faced than this clan when its
anger was roused and it prepared for battle. There
could be no strangers leaving the lairs along here that
the Tuskers would not mark. And, Furtig thought,
even armed though they might be with strange weap-
ons, if the Demons-came on foot, they had better
come warily. For all their bulk and seeming clumsi-
ness, the Tuskers were able to lurk undetected in hid-
ing. They had vanquished Barkers many times in red
defeat, using the wind itself to mask their scent.

Ayana gazed at the plate before her. The meat's rich
juices formed a natural gravy. The others were eating
eagerly, with the greed of those who have been on E
rations for a long time. The meat had tested harmless,
resembling the best one could find on Elhorn. Why
then did it nauseate her to look at it? She lifted a
piece to her lips, found she could not bite into it.
Why?

"A whole herd," Tan said between mouthfuls. "We
shall have food in plenty close to hand."

Ayana continued to look at the meat. It was well
cooked, and, while it had been cooking, the savor had
made her mouth water. She had hardly been able to
wait, any more than the others, until it was ready.
She had been as eager as they to taste the first real
food they had seen since they lifted.

"Luck, pure luck," Tan continued, "running into
these on my first cast into the open country. They
have not been hunted for a long time. Easy enough to
pick up a couple."

Ayana stood up. She had been fighting the thought
valiantly with all her strength of will. But it broke
now through her defense, and she could not control
her words.

"How do we know that—this is an animal?"

She was a fool, of course. But there were those
furred things on the bridge. Without the trappings,
the weapon, they might be called animals. Yet she
was sure they were not. These things they had cooked
had not had the same appearance, that was true. But
they knew too little, far too little of this world. She
could not stomach meat which might be—be the flesh
of intelligent beings. There, she had faced the thought
which had struggled darkly in her mind. With a little

cry she clapped her hands over her mouth, pushed
past Jacel, and hurried, not only from the cabin but
down through the ship until she reached the ramp
hatch.

But that was closed; they were sealed in. And it
seemed to her that she must have fresh air, that the
fumes of the cooked meat, which she had thought so
appetizing earlier, were now a sickening vapor.

Ayana battered at the hatch fastening, the door
rolled open, and she could fill her lungs with the air of
night. Then hands fell in a harsh, punishing grip on
her shoulders, jerking her back into the ship's shell.

"What are you trying to do? Set yourself up as a
perfect target for anything out there?" Tan was
angry. She had heard that note in his voice only a few
times in her life.

He pushed her to one side forcibly, turned to reseal
the hatch. Ayana rubbed her arm, blinking fiercely.
Tan was not going to see betraying tears in her eyes.

When he had, the seal tight, he swung around, his
eyes hot and hard, watching her.

"Now—what did you mean by that scene?" he de-
manded as if there had never been, or could be, any
good feeling between them.

And his hostility awakened her own spirit.

"Just what I said. We know too little of the situa-
tion here. You thought of those beings on the recorder
tape as animals. But they are not, and deep in your
mind, you know that. Now—you bring others back—
for food!" Her revulsion returned. She had to cover
her mouth for a moment. "We do not know what they
are!"

"You need a mind-clear treatment!" His anger was
chilling, no longer hot and impulsive but worse. He
was entering one of those remote moods when he froze
anyone who tried to communicate. "You saw what I
brought back. It was all animal. Perhaps"—he came a
little closer, stood looking down at her with that cold
menace—"perhaps you do need a mind-clear. You did
not test out as entirely level-stable—"

"How do you know that?" Ayana demanded.

Tan laughed, but there was no lightness of spirit in
that sound.

"I had my ways of learning what I needed to know.
It is always well to be aware of the weaknesses of
one's fellows. Yes, I know your L report, my dear
Ayana. And do you believe that I cannot put that
knowledge to the best use?"

He caught her shoulders again and shook her, as if
to impress her with his strength of both body and
will. It was as if that ruthless handling shook from
her mind a shield she had clung to for years. Tan
was—Tan was— She stared at him, beaten for the
moment, not by his will, but by her own realization of
what Tan really was.

"We will have no more stupid imaginings." He did
not wait for her to answer; perhaps he believed she
was fully cowed. "Eat or not—if you wish to starve
that is your decision. But you will keep your mouth
shut on such ideas!"

Jacel, Massa, were not fools, nor, Ayana believed,
could they be dominated by Tan. If what she had said
made them consider— But for the present, until she
had time to think, she must let him believe thai he
had won. Though he appeared to have no suspicion
that he had not. There was confidence in the way he

pulled her around, shoved her at the ladder, with the
unspoken but implied order to go aloft.

The worst was that Ayana must continue to share
their small cabin. The horror that grew in her was
even greater than the desolation she had known mo-
ments earlier. Tan would enforce such a relationship,
she knew. There' was only one escape. She was the
medic—and the cramped medic-lab cabin was hers
alone. She could shelter there until she had time to
think things out.

She climbed, her thoughts racing. If Tan believed
he had broken any resistance in her— One level more
—the medic cabin. She had hardly believed she could
escape him so easily. But she made a quick dash,
thumb-locked the door behind her. She fully expected
him to bat out his rage against its surface. But there
was only utter and complete silence.

Ayana backed away until she came up against the
patient's bunk. She faced the door, taut, listening.
When there came no assault, she relaxed on the edge
of the bunk.

The palms of her hands were sweating, she felt
weak, sick. The confrontation of the past few mo-
ments had frightened her as she had never been
frightened before in her life. Tan knew her L report.
He could turn that to his own advantage. Every
weakness, every way of reaching her had been charted
on that! He could use such knowledge to influence the
others to distrust her. Her outburst at the table had
given him a base on which to build false claims. She
had played directly into his hands— She was-—

Ayana began to fight back. He had thrown her so
far off base that he had gained the advantage for a

while. It was time she forgot what had happened and
began to consider the immediate present. She had
been warned; perhaps Tan had made his first mistake
in revealing that he thought he could dominate her.

Think, use her brain; she had a good one, L report
or not. Ayana had a good and useful mind. Now was
the time to put it to work, not allow herself to become
enmeshed by emotion, let alone fear, the most weak-
ening of all.

She must not depend on either Jacel or Massa, but
stand alone. For if Tan could prove to be an entirely
different person from the one she thought she knew,
loved, then whom could she trust? Herself—and her
skills. Ayana began to look about the cabin and what
it contained. Herself and her skills—perhaps she would
find that enough

Though she did not rise, her head was up, her
shoulders no longer hunched as if she expected at any
moment to feel the sting of a lash laid across them.
She was Ayana and she fought to remain that—her-
self, not something owned by Tan!

Bright as the moon had been in the clearing, it was no
guide to paths under the growth cover. But Furtig
slipped along easily, treading the way in memory as
well as if he walked one of the well-paved ways of the
Demons. These were hunting lands where those of the
caves often came.

The night had voices, birds whose hunting also de-
pended upon the cover of the dark hours, insects,

smaller life, which stilled instantly as th.e scent of the
travelers reached them.

Furtig breathed deeply, planted each foot -with
pleasure in the fact that it met soil and not the hard
surface of a corridor. He was of the caves after all.
And with every whisper of sound, the rich scents the
wind brought him, he rejoiced.

Liliha, for all her In-born life, did not lag, but with
gliding grace matched the pace the two warriors set.
Perhaps she looked from right to left and back again
more often than they, for to her this was all new. But
she appeared to find more interest than cause for
alarm in what lay about.

They halted at a spring Furtig remembered well,
drank their fill, ate of the supplies they had carried
with them from the lairs. But always they listened,
not for the usual night sounds, but for the beat of the
Demon flyer within weapon reach overhead.

"If there are only four of them," Furtig said, "then
they can be defeated. Even if they are scouts—if they
did not return, their clan would take warning."

"It depends," Foskatt pointed out, "on why they
scout. If it is merely to seek new ground, and they do
not return, yes, perhaps that would be the end for
their kin."

"We cannot," Liliha said with the assurance of the
In-born, to whom the study of Demons was a way of
life, "judge anything that the Demons do by what we
would do in their place. They do not think as we."

"If they think straightly at all," Foskatt growled.
"Remember the old tales—in the final days after the
Demons had loosed their own doom, they were so
twisted in their ways that they hunted and preyed
upon each other, dealing death to their kin as well as
to our kind in turn. And it would seem that they have
begun such ways once more. At least they have taken
the Tusker younglings without cause—for one pur-
pose—"

"Again you are not sure," Liliha countered. "It
may be they have taken the younglings to study
them, to see what manner of people are now in posses-
sion of the world they ruled so evilly in the old days."

"I do not think so," Furtig said. He was unable to
prove that Foskatt was right in his reading of the De-
mons' motives. But somehow he was as sure of it as if
he had indeed witnessed the outcome of the stealing
of Broken Nose's young.

"Why did they not capture Ku-La and me in the
same fashion?" he continued. Ever since he had heard
of that seizure from the air which the flyer had prac-
ticed, this had puzzled him. It would have been very
easy to capture the two of them from that open
bridge. Of course, had the Demon tried it, Furtig had
held the lightning weapon. Was that why they had
escaped? Had the Demon seen and recognized from
aloft the lightning thrower? If so—then Gammage's
plan to arm as many of the People as they could had
great merit.

It was as if Liliha now read his thoughts. "You
were a warrior, armed—not a helpless and frightened
youngling. It may be that the Demon wanted no trou-
ble with captives so he chose the least dangerous that
could be found. How much farther are these caves of
yours?" she ended briskly.

"If we do not have to turn from the straight trail,
we shall be there shortly after sunrise."

They kept on under trees, using brush as a canopy
where trees thinned or failed. They crossed any open
space with a rush, always listening for ominous
sounds from the air. Dawn found them working their
way into the higher lands of the caves. Furtig heard
the yowl of the first Sentry, alerting the next. That
cry would pass from one to the other until it reached
the ears of the Elders. He did not know if he had been
recognized for himself, or merely as one of the People.

But the fact that the three came openly was in
their favor. Sentries and guards would loosely encircle
them as they went but would not try to stop them.
However, as the three breasted the next-to-the-last
slope before they reached the cliff of the caves, they
were fronted by one who rose out of the dried grass to
await them. Her gray fur was silken, shining in the
sun. And though she was small, she held herself
proudly erect.

"Eu-La!" The sight of her brought back the warm
memory of how she had sent him forth on this venture
armed not only with the fighting claws she had found,
but also with her belief in him.

"Cave brother," she said gravely, as gravely as one
who had mothered younglings, so dignified was she.
But her eyes slid from him to Liliha and her lips part-
ed on a hiss.

"You bring a strange Chooser—!" She spat the
words as if they were an ill saying.

"Not so!" He should have known. Just as a warrior
would flatten ears and twitch tail at the sight of a
non-kinsman, so would female meet strange female.
"This is Liliha, an In-born of the lairs. She has not

chosen, nor will she, save among her own kin—that is
lair law."

Eu-La was openly suspicious, but she looked again
to Liliha, studying her carefully.

"She is not like the cave Choosers. That is true."

"And it is also true, as your kinsman has said," Li-
liha uttered in the throaty, purring voice of friend-
ship, "that I have not come to choose among you, but
to speak of other things, things of danger, to your
Elder Chooser."

She moved closer, and, as if Eu-La were suddenly
convinced, they each extended a pink tongue, touched
it to the cheek of the other, in the touch-of -friend.

"Open is the cave of Eu-La to Liliha of the lairs,"
Eu-La said. Then she looked to Foskatt, who had fall-
en a little behind. "But this is also a stranger."

"Not quite so, cave kin. I was once of the caves be-
fore I went seeking Gammage. I am Foskatt, but per-
haps you have not heard my name, for I went forth
seasons ago."

"Foskatt," Eu-La repeated. "Ah, you are of the
cave of Kay-Lin. The Elder Chooser there has spoken
your name."

He was startled. "And who is that Elder Chooser?"

"She is Fa-Ling."

"Fa-Ling! Who was litter sister of my mother!
Then indeed I still have close kin in the caves!"

"But you, Furtig, have you learned all Gammage's
secrets that you return?" There was a teasing purr in
Eu-La's voice.

"Not all, sister. But a few—yes." His hand went to
the lightning thrower at his belt. "But more than any
talk of secrets, we bring news for the Elders."

"Two sets of Elders now," she told him. "There
have been changes at the caves. The western People
have come to join us. They have taken over the lower
caves. A new tribe of Barkers moved into their lands
and they lost five warriors and an Elder in battle.
There is much fear now that the Barkers move
against us next. And it is a large pack."

Furtig listened closely. Perhaps now the Elders
might agree to Gammage's plan. If they believed that
they could not hold the caves, even uniting two tribes,
they might be pushed into trekking to the lairs.

Save—the Demons and what had happened to the
younglings of the Tuskers. Perhaps one could suggest
that the cave clans take to flight, yes. But away from
both Barkers and lairs, not into the buildings where
Rattons and Demons alike waited. Bad or good, Fur-
tig could not judge. He could only deliver the message
and warning he carried.

Resolutely Furtig continued on, Eu-La matching
him step to step. Now and then she glanced at him
measuringly, as if so trying to read his thoughts. But
she asked no questions, seemed pleased enough that
he had returned.

Her acceptance of Liliha had been quick. Furtig
hoped that was a sign that the other females would do
the same. If the In-bom could continue to make it
clear that she was no threat to their mate-choice, he
did not see why they would be hostile. Compared to
Eu-La—or Fas-Tan—her scantily furred body might
not please, might seem to be ugly. Though being used
now to the In-bom Furtig did not consider it so. But
he hoped, for the sake of their mission, that the others
would.

If Liliha had any vanity she had not displayed it.
And perhaps now she was quick enough to see that
the uglier and stranger she made herself seem, the
more acceptable she would be. Ugly, strange—the
two things Liliha could never truly be!

Ayana moved in the medic cabin. Her body was stiff;

she had held herself so tense, her muscles had
cramped. At least she had a plan, but its success de-
pended upon a great many factors. And most of those
could only be resolved by time. She had no idea how
long she had crouched here, considering what Tan
might do, and then what she could do to oppose him.

Yes, time and patience. She must hold on to pa-
tience as if it were a safety line. Yet patience had
never been a strong part of her.

She rubbed her hands down her cheeks; her face
was cold, she shivered slightly. Nervous chill. Sudden-
ly she wished for a mirror, to look into it and see the
new Ayana, how much she had been changed by this
time of facing black truths and learning that she
might live and die by uncertain choices. Just as Tan
would never again look to her as when he wore that
mask he must always have assumed before her.

As she arose she swayed, clutched for a hand-hold.
Not only was she stiff, but movement brought vertigo,
as if the whole world were unstable. But Ayana
reached a cabinet in the wall, brought out a tube of
tablets. One of those she held to dissolve under her
tongue. She did not mind its bitter taste.

Now she worked swiftly, stripping the shelves of
certain things, until a small pile of vials and tubes lay
on the bunk. Possession of those gave her weapons
and defenses. But she must find somewhere to conceal
them.

"Thus it is." Furtig faced the Elders, and not only
them but all those in the caves, who had crowded in
crouching rows behind. He could read no emotion in
their eyes, which, when the light of Gammage's lamp
touched them, were like disks of glowing fires, orange,
red, and green. At least the messengers had been'
given cave hospitality—not warned off.

Before him lay the weapons they had brought. And
he had demonstrated each. There were two lightning
throwers, another producing a thin stream which
made ice congeal about the target, even though this
was not the cold season.

The fourth, which Liliba had carried and which she
alone knew how to operate, was the strangest of all.
For a warrior might escape by luck or chance the
other two. However, from this tube spun small
threads at Liliha's twirling. Those floated as might a
wind-borne spider's web. That web, once launched,
was drawn instantly to the warrior at whom Liliha
had aimed it, in this case Foskatt.

Once it had touched his shoulder, as if that touch
was a signal, it straightaway wrapped itself about his
body so he could not move. Nor could he break that
hold, though the cords of the web were very fine and
thin. Liliha had to cut it in two places, and then the
whole thing withered and fell in small black particles
to the ground.

The Elders, in spite of this display, kept impassive
faces. But from the others came growls and small
hisses of wonder and alarm that such things existed.
Liliha was frank: these tanglers were few, some did
not work at all. But the lairs held endless caches of
other wonders.

"But you say"—it was Ha-Hang, one of the Elders
of the western tribe, who spoke—"there are others in
the lairs. You have spoken of Rattons in force, and
Demons, at least as a scouting party. If the Demons
have indeed returned, it is best to let them have the
lairs. Those of our kind saved their lives before by
taking to the v/ilds when the Demons hunted."

For the first time Foskatt spoke. "Only just, Elder.
Remember the tales? It was only because the Demons
sickened and died, fought among themselves, that our
mother kin and a few mates escaped. It took many
seasons thereafter of hiding and bearing litters, in
which too many younglings died, before the clans
could do more than run and hide.

"These Demons are neither sick nor fighting among
themselves. If they come in strength, how long will it
be before they hunt us again?"

Furtig did not wait for any to answer that ques-
tion; he carried on the attack. "Also, Elders, in those
days we had no Gammage, ho seekers of Demon se-
crets, to aid us. Those who were our ancestors had no
weapons and little knowledge. Compared to us they
were as fangless, as clawless, as a newborn youngling.
Perhaps these Demons are scouts, but among us how
is the move to a new hunting ground made? We send
scouts and if they return with ill news, or do not re-
turn, then what is the decision? We go not in that di-
rection but seek another.

"These Demons' ancestors must have been those
who fled the sickness and the fighting of their kind,
even as we fled the lairs. Therefore their legends of
the place are sinister; they will be ready to believe
that evil awaits them here. And if their scouts do not
return—"

It was the best argument he could offer, one which
fit in with their own beliefs and customs.

"Demons and Rattons," Fal-Kan said. "And Gam-
mage wishes all, strangers and caves alike, to gather
to make war. Perhaps he also speaks of a truce with
Barkers?" His voice was a growl, and he was echoed
by those about him.

Liliha spoke, and, because she was a Chooser, even
Fal-Kan dared not hiss her down. She held out her
hand with its strangely long fingers, pointed to where
the Elder Chooser of Fal-Kan's cave sat on a cushion
of grass and feathers, holding the newest youngling to
her furry breast.

"Do you wish the little one to become Demon
meat?"

Now the growl arose sharply, ears flattened, and
tails lashed. Some of the youngest warriors rose, their
claws ready for battle.

"The Tuskers believed they were safe. Would any
of you dare to take a Tusker youngling from his
mother's side?"

That picture startled them into silence. All knew
there was no fiercer fighter in the whole wilds than
the Tusker female when her young was threatened.

"Yet," Liliha continued, "a Demon flying through
the air did so. Can you now say that you will be safe
in the wilds when this Demon can fly at will, attack
from above, perhaps kill with such weapons" as these?"
She gestured to the display. "In the lairs we have hid-
den ways to travel, so small the Demons cannot enter.
Our only chance is to turn on them, while they are
still so few, the very deaths they used in the old days
to destroy our kind.

"You war with the Barkers, but not the Tuskers—
why is that so?"

It was not an Elder who answered when she paused
but Furtig, hoping to impress at least the younger
warriors of that company—those not so set in the
ways of doing as always.

"Why do we fight the Barkers? Because we are
both eaters of meat and there is a limit to hunting
lands. The Tuskers we do not fight because they eat
what is of no use to us. But there is food in the lairs,
much of it, and no need for hunting. And if you saw
before you a Barker and a Demon and had a single
chance to kill—which would you choose? That is
what Gammage now says—that between Barkers and
Demons he chooses the Demons as the greater enemy.
As for the Rattons, yes, they are a spreading evil
within the lairs, and one must be on constant guard
against them.

"But also they promise an even worse fate if they
are not put down. For Gammage has proof they seek
out the secrets of the Demons also. Do you want Rat-
tons perhaps riding sky things and capturing war-
riors, and Choosers, and younglings with such as
these?"

,With his foot he edged forward the tangler so that
they could understand his meaning. This time the
growl of protest was louder. War with the Barkers
was open and fierce, yet there was a grudging respect
for the enemy on both sides. The Rations were dif-
ferent; the very thought of them brought a disgusting
taste to the mouth. There were far off, strange leg-
ends of individual Barkers and People living togeth-
er when they were both Demon slaves in the lairs. But
Rations had always been prey.

Ha-Hang spoke first. "You say Barkers are less
dangerous than Demons. We have lost warriors to
Barkers, none to Demons. And what is a Tusker
youngling to us?"

He had a gap on one side of his jaw where he had
lost a fighting fang, and both ears were notched with
old bite scars. It was plain he was a fighting Elder
rather than a planning one.

"Truth spoken!" applauded Fal-Kan.

They were losing, Furtig knew. And perhaps the
Elders were right to be cautious. He himself, until he
had heard the Tuskers' story of the flyer, had been of
two minds about the matter. But those moments
when he had lain on the bridge with the Demon hov-
ering over him had given him such a deepset fear of
the flyers that he wished he could make it plain to
these here what an attack from the air might mean.

Yes, they could hide in the caves. But what if the
Demon took up patrol so they could not come forth
again? What if the flyer swept low along the very edge
of the cliffs, attacking the cave mouths? Furtig had a
hearty respect now for Gammage's warnings against
Demon knowledge. One could expect them to do any-
thing!

"This affair concerns not only the caves and their
defense," the Chooser of Fal-Kan's cave, she who
was of the Ancestor's blood, said throatily. "It also
concerns our young. And this matter of the Tuskers'
young whose mothers could not defend—"

"We live in the caves, the Tuskers in the open,"
growled Fal-Kan. And his warriors added a rumble of
approval.

"Younglings cannot live in caves all their lives," the
Chooser continued. "I would listen to this Chooser
from the lairs; let her tell us of the younglings there
and how they are cared for. What knowledge have
they gained beside that of knowing better how to
fight, which is always the first thought in the mind of
any warrior?" Fal-Kan dared not protest now, nor in-
terrupt.

So Liliha spoke, not of battles or the need for fight-
ing, but of life within the lairs as the Choosers would
see it. She spoke much about the ways of healing
which had been discovered, how Choosers about to
bear young went to places of healing, and how there-
after the young were perfect in form and quick and
bright of mind. She spoke of new foods which ensured
even in the times of poor hunting that there would be
no hunger, and told of the many things a Chooser
might do to make her own life of greater ease and in-
terest.

Some of what she said Furtig had seen with his o'wn
eyes, but much of it was as a Chooser would explain it
to a Chooser, and this talk in a mixed assembly was
new. At first the Elders stirred, perhaps affronted by
the breaking of custom, yet not able to deny it when
the Choosers themselves, who were even sterner
guardians of custom, accepted it. Then Furtig could
see even the males were listening with full interest.

She talked well, did Liliha. Foremost in the line of
Those-Who-Would-Come-to-Choose sat Eu-La, her
eyes fast on the almost hairless face of the female
from the lairs. Furtig looked from his clanswoman to
Liliha and back again. Then he caught a glimpse of
Foskatt.

Perhaps the other had heard Liliha's information
many times over, for there was an abstraction about
him. He was leaning forward a little, staring at—Eu-
La! And there was a bemusement on his face which
Furtig knew for what it was. Just so had he seen the
Unchosen look at Fas-Tan when she passed with a
slow swing of her tail, her eyes beyond them as if, as
males yet Unchosen, they had no place in her life.

Eu-La—but she was hardly more than a youngling!
A season at least before she would stand with the
Choosers. Startled, Furtig studied her. She was no
longer a youngling. He had seen that when she had
met them outside the caves, but it had not really im-
pressed him.

Eu-La a Chooser? There was a small rumble of
growl deep in his throat as he thought of her perhaps
in the open with a Demon flyer above. Furtig's fingers
stretched and crooked involuntarily, as if he wore his
fighting claws.

But he had no time to consider such things now, for
Liliha had finished and the Elder of the Choosers
spoke:

"There is much to be thought on, kin sisters. Not
yet, Elders, warriors, Unchosen, are the cave people
ready to say that this or that will be done."

Never in his life had Furtig heard a Chooser speak
so before. But perhaps the Elders had, for not one of
them protested her decision. And the gathering broke
up, the Choosers threading into the caves, Liliha fol-
lowing the Chooser who had spoken.

Furtig and Foskatt gathered the sample weapons
into their carrying bag again. The warriors padded
out into the dark, making no sound as they moved.
And the guardian of the lamp had come to stand be-
side it as if impatient for Furtig and Foskatt to fol-
low.

"What do you think?" Furtig asked in a whisper.
"Has Liliha made the right impression?"

"Ask me not the way of a female mind," returned
Foskatt. He was tightening the cords about the bun-
dle. "But it is true that when it comes to the general
safety and good of younglings it is the Choosers who
decide. And if they believe that the lairs promise more
than the caves, then these people will go to Gam-
mage."

Had Tan thought about the advantage this cabin
gave her? Ayana sat up on the bunk in the medic-lab.
She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but she
awoke with a mind free of that fear and despair
which had held her. Was it the fact that she had
been selected, even conditioned, to be the other half
of Tan that had made her so helpless?

But, if they had selected, conditioned her so, that
preparation had not endured. She would think for
herself, be herself—and not Tan's mate. Tan's other
part, from now on.

Looking back at the years on Elhorn, even the days
of the voyage, Ayana could not understand the person
she had been. It was as if she had slept and was now
awake. And Tan—certainly Tan had changed too! It
could not be only the alteration in herself which had
caused the break between them.

She had known him to be impatient of restraint,
curious to the point of recklessness. But now all his
faults were intensified; never before had he been ruth-
less or cruel. It was as if this world, the long-sought
home of their kind, had acted on him—on her—

And if that was so—-what of Jacel, Massa? Were
they, too, other people? If they were now four others,
their old, carefully cultivated close relationship bro-
ken, how could they work as a unit, do their duty
here?

Ayana looked at the small kit she had put together
before she had slept, and she shivered. What had been
in her mind to seek out those particular drugs and
want to 'hide them—or USE them? She had been more
emotionally disturbed than she could believe possible,
in spite of all her training.

If she, a medic, one supposedly dedicated to the
service of life, could, in some wild moment of terror,
contemplate such, an array of armament, what w'uld
the others do? She might do well now to destroy all
which lay there, so that if such wild thoughts came to
mind again there would be nothing—

Save that which lay there could help as well as
harm. The drugs were specially selected for this
voyage and they could not be replaced. No, not de-
struction; however—concealment.

No one knew this cabin, its fittings, better than she
did herself. Ayana began a careful search for a hiding
place, finding it at last, and strapping the packet on
the underside of the bunk.

That done, Ayana faced her ordeal. She must leave
the safety of this cabin, go out into the ship. Some-
how she must be able to pass off what had happened
as a temporary emotional storm, and present to all
eyes, including Tan's, the appearance of firm self-
control.

As she forced herself to her own cabin, she met no
one. There was no sound in the ship. Twice she
paused to listen. Without the vibration, the life which
had coursed through its walls while they were spaced,
this whole complex of cabins had a curious hollow and
empty feeling.

It—it was as if she were encased in a dead thing!
Ayana caught her lip between her teeth, bit upon it
hard that that small pain might be a warning. Emo-
tions rising, fear— What was wrong with her?

She would have no armor against Tan's charges,
against the others, until she could face this objective-
ly. Was it herself—or this world? Was there some-
thing about this planet that upset her, forced her out
of her pattern of living? It was better to believe that
than to think that there was a flaw so deep in her that
she was breaking because of it.

No one in the cabin. But Tan's protect suit was
gone. He must have taken off- again. And where—
when—?

Ayana climbed to the control cabin. No one there—
had they all gone and left her? Alone in a dead ship,
on a world which their ancestors had fled after some
disaster so great that it must be erased from all
records?

She almost fell down the steps in her hurry to seek
the cabin of Jacel and Massa. But now she smelted
food—the mess cabin!

Massa sat there alone. Between her hands was a
mug of hot nutrient. Of the two men there was no
sign.

"Massa—"

She looked up and Ayana was startled out of ask-
ing the question she had ready. Massa was older than
Ayana by a planet year or two. She had never been a
talkative person, but there had been about her such
an air of competence and serene certainty that her
presence was soothing. Perhaps that was one of the
factors the home authorities had considered when
they made the final selection of the crew. She had al-
ways been detached, held people at arms-length.
What she was in private to Jacel must have satisfied
him. However, Ayana had held the other girl in awe,
had not seen in her any ally against Tan.

But this was not Massa's usual serene and untrou-
bled face. She looked as if she had not slept for a long
time, and her eyes were red and swollen as if she had
been crying. The way she stared back at Ayana—hos-
tile!

That very hostility brought an end to the wall be-
tween them. Had Massa, also, discovered Jacel to be
another person?

"Where is Tan—Jacel?" Ayana slipped by to the
heating unit, poured herself a mug of nutrient, and
seated herself to face Massa, determined now not to
be driven off by a forbidding look. In fact, the signs oj
the disturbance in the other girl acted on her in an
oddly calming way.

"You may well ask! Tan—he is like a wild mani
What did you do to him?"

"What has Tan done?"

"He has persuaded Jacel to go in—on foot, not in
the flyer. On foot! Into what may be a trap. He—he is,
unmotivated." She spat forth the worst she could find,
to say about a supposedly trained colleague.

"On foot!" Ayana nearly choked on the mouthfvl
she had taken. Two men in that huge expanse oj
ruined buildings! They could easily be lost, trapped—

"On foot!" Massa repeated. "They have been
gone"—she consulted the timekeeper on the cabin
wall above them—"two complete dial circles."

"But the corns! Why are you not monitoring the
corns?"

"The hook-up is in." Massa laid her hand on the
wall corn. "They have not reported for a half circle. 1
have the repeat demand on automatic. If they answer
we can hear them at once."

"We can trace their way in then, through that,"
Ayana nodded to the corn.

"Yes. But dare we try to use it so? I was trying to
decide." Massa set her elbows on the table, leaned hei
head forward into her hands. "Trying to decide," she
repeated dully. "If we leave the ship and go hunting
and are caught by those creeping horrors—"

"Creeping horrors?"

"Tan went out early this morning. He returned
with recordings. The picture was blurred, but it
showed small life forms, in an open place between
buildings. They signalled him with one of the old rec-
ognition codes—though it did not quite make sense
by our records. There was no place near that point
where he could land the flyer. That's why they went
on foot. But I say that those things—they were not
people!"

"But to go out like that, it is against everything we
have been taught, against all the rules of safety."

Massa shrugged. "It seems that home rules do not
apply any more as far as Tan is concerned. And—he
came and talked at Jacel—not to him but at him! It
was almost evil the way he worked on Jacel, made
him believe he was not a real man unless he would go
to meet those signalling things. They, neither one of
them, would listen to me when I tried to urge some
sense. It was as if they were different people from
those I had always known. And sometimes, Ayana, I
feel different, too. What is this world doing to us?"

There was nothing left of her serene confidence.
Rather the eyes now looking into Ayana's were those
of someone lost and wandering in a strange and
frightening place. So—she was not alone! Massa felt
it also, that this world was somehow altering them to
fit a new pattern, one which was for the worse, com-
pared to that they had known.

"If we only knew," Ayana said slowly, "the reason
why the First Ship people left here. That reason—it

may be that we have to face it again now. And we
have no defense, not even guesses. Was it invasion of
furred creatures like those on the bridge, or like these
others who now signal in our own old codes? Disease?
It could be anything."

"I only know that Jacel has changed, and Tan is a
stranger, and I no longer understand myself at times.
You are a trained medic, Ayana. Could this air here,
which our ship's instruments tells us is good, be some
kind of subtle poison? Or is it something from those
rows of dead buildings, standing there like bones set
on end to mark old graves which must not, for some
terrible reason, be forgotten—something reaching out
to send us mad?"

Her voice rose higher and higher, her hands began
to twitch. Ayana put down her mug, caught those
hands to hold them quiet.

"Massa! No, do not imagine things—"

"Why not? What have we left us but what we imag-
ine? I did not imagine that Jacel has taken leave of
his senses and gone out to hunt evil shadows in those
buildings! He is gone, Tan is gone, and both for no
sane reason. You cannot say I have imagined that!"

"No, you have not." By will Ayana kept her own
voice level and steady. "But are you of any help now?
What if—"

She had no time to see if that argument had any ef-
fect on Massa. For at that moment there was a click-
ing from the corn, and they both looked to it, tense,
reading in that rattle of sound the message.

"Need aid-Ayana-medic—"

"Jacel!" Massa jerked from Ayana's hold, was on
her feet. "He is hurt."

"No. That was Jacel's sending. Did you not recog-
nize it? And if he is sending, he cannot be the one in
need." Clicks might not have any voice tone, but they
had practiced so long together that they were able to
distinguish the sender by rate of speed.

And it would only fit the pattern that Tan, driven
by whatever beset him on this world, had gotten into
difficulty—bad—or Jacel would not have sent for her.

"Keep on that direction beam." Now that she was
being pressed into action, Ayana knew what to do.
"We may need a beacon call back."

"I am going too—"

"No. They need a medic, and we must have some-
one in the ship. Your place is here, Massa."

For a long moment it looked as if she would argue
that. Then her shoulders slumped, and Ayana knew
she had won.

"I will take a belt corn, go in on their out-wave. Set
that for me, Massa, while I go to get a suit and my
kit."

"And if this is somehow a trap?"

"We have to take that chance. I must go." Ayana
faced the bare truth squarely.

It was mid-morning with no clouds or sign of storm.
The sun was warm, too warm across the glare of fused
scars where ships had taken off and landed—how long
ago? Beyond, the gray-white cliffs of the buildings.
Ayana wearing her protect suit, her belt heavy with
explorer's devices and aids, the medic kit at her back,
tramped on, the corn beep at her belt as a compass.

As long as those she sought wore similar devices she
would eventually find them. How long would that
take? Her impulse was to run, her self-command kept
her to a ground-covering stride which would not in-
vite disaster. There had been no more messages. But
she had left Massa -at the corn in the control cabin
ready for any such call.

Massa would relay to her any message, but some-
how she was sure that none would come.

Now she approached the buildings. Windows re-
garded her slyly. The sensation of being spied upon
was like a crawling touch on her skin. She had to fight

her fears to keep on in the direction the corn marked
for her.

Though at a distance the blocks of the buildings
seemed to ring in solidly the open landing site, yet, as
Ayana advanced, she saw that this was not true.
There was a space at a 'side angle, where one could
pass between two towers.

The opening was a narrow street at a sharp angle in
relation to the port, so that when Ayana was only a
step or so down it, she could no longer look back to
the ship. But the corn urged her ahead—this was the
way.

There were drifts of sand and earth at the begin-
ning of the street, but farther down, where the wind
could not reach so readily, the pavement was bare. On
both sides there were no windows or doors in the first
stories of the buildings, leaving them blankly solid
like the walls of a fortification. Though well above
there were windows. It was not until Ayana reached
the first crossway that there was a change. Here were
doors, windows, at street level. The doors were closed
and she tried none of them. Her beeping guide turned
her into another cross street which headed yet farther
into the city. They had believed that they had built
cities on Elhorn during the last two hundred years.
But what they had done there was the piling up of
children's blocks compared to this! And what had
brought it all to nothing?

There were no signs of such destruction as a natu-
ral catastrophe or war might have left. Just silence—
but not emptiness! No, with every step she took,
Ayana was aware of hidden life. She could not see it,
nor hear it, and she did not have a persona detect

(that had gone with Tan), but she knew something
was there. So her hand swung close to her stunner,
and she looked continuously from side to side, sure
that soon—from some doorway—

Another crossway, again she was to go right accord-
ing to the corn. Something— Ayana stopped short,
the stunner now drawn; something had scuttled away
up ahead. She was sure imagination had not tricked
her. She had actually seen that flicker of motion at a
door. All her instincts warned her to retreat, but the
beep of the corn held steady. Somewhere ahead Jacel,
or Tan, or both of them had their corns on call, and
that would not happen unless need was greater than
caution. She had no choice after all.

But Ayana kept to the middle of the street, well
away from those buildings. The open would give her
what small advantage there might be. Now she
reached the doorway where she had seen the move-
ment. The door there was open, but, as far as she
could detect, nothing crouched within. She did not
explore. But as she passed it, she went stiff and tense;

to have that behind her was bad.

The second cross street brought her out into a place
which was in direct contrast to the rest of the city.
Here was a sprawl of growing things, a huge, autumn-
killed tangle choked in a frame of corroded metal.
Ayana, facing that mass, thought she could trace in
some of the upright and horizontal crossbeams the
frame of a building. But if it had ever been more than
just the skeleton of such, the vines and other growth
had taken over and destroyed all but the bones.

Much of the riotous vegetation was dry and dead.
But from that black, withered mass new shoots rose.

Not of an honest rich green, but of a green that was
oddly grayed, as if it were indeed only the ghost of
the plants that had put forth new shoots and runners.

It was into the center of that sickly mass that the
beep directed her. Though how she could enter such a
tangle—

Ayana walked along the outer fringe of the growth,
seeking by will, not by inclination, some possible
opening. Shortly she came upon a path hacked, bro-
ken, burnt. Though why those she sought had forced
their way into that unwholesome mass she could not
guess.

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 hol-
low 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 indica-
tions 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 morn-
ing 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 Elemon knowl-
edge.

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 war-
riors, had spoken after the withdrawal of the Choos-

ers. 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 Lili-
ha, 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 an-
swered. "What brings the cave sister from her sleep-
ing 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 hoarse-
ly.

"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 sis-
ters. "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 bya 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 young-
lings, then they listen well. And Liliha answered
many more questions in the dark hours. Do not be-
lieve 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 real-
ized, 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 rev-
ers without clans.

He was lucky. Within the lairs there was much to
be done. If he could not equal the In-bom with then-
learning and their mastery of the Demon machines,
there was always exploring and fighting the Rattons.
Yes, he was lucky to have so much, and ought not,
even in his thoughts, reach for that which he could
never win. Foskatt—Eu-La—if it came to that if
might be very well.

But these were days to think not of Choosing and
the beginnings of new clans and families, but of what
was going to happen to those already in existence.

Eu-La proved right. In the end the Choosers' deci-
sion was that the move to the lairs was better than a
life in the wilds, where younglings might be taken as
had those of the Tuskers. Their answer to the threat
of Rations and Demons was that four Demons with
their own weapons turned against them were not for-
midable. As for Rations—from the earliest legends of
the People such had been their natural prey. There-
fore Gammage might expect these clans to come to
him before the moon overhead vanished into the
Nights of Dark.

But Eu-La wished to return with the messengers.
So four rather than three set out again by night to re-
turn to the lairs.

There was no sign of the flyer, though they never
felt safe from it. And when they met again the Tusker
patrols, they learned it had not been seen.

The Tuskers had another message. One of their
scouts had witnessed at the far end of their territory a
strange thing. A truce flag had been set up. And, left
by it with food and water to hand, a Barker who
seemed to be recovering from ill treatment. Those
who left him were a part of People from the lairs. He
had been claimed by his own kind before nightfall,
and the Barkers had not torn away the flag.

Rather they were now gathering, with more of their
scouts arriving all the time. And there were signs they
planned to camp nearby in the woods.

"So we freed that Barker from the Rations," Furtig   !
said. "But that may have been by far the easier part.

To get the People and the Barkers under a common
truce flag is a thing unheard of."

"Yet," pointed out Liliha, "the Barkers did not
tear down the flag. It still stands. Thus they have not
yet refused to talk. They summon their own clans to
speak together, even as we have gone to argue with
those of the caves. But whether—"

"We cannot trust Barkers!" Furtig broke in. "Even
if the Demons are all the legends say they were, we
cannot trust Barkers."

"Barkers lived with the Demons," Eu-La said.
"That is where they first learned evil ways." She was
repeating the old legend of their own kind.

"But so did our people once," Liliha reminded her.
"The First Ancestors fled from the^ lairs only when
the Demons turned against them in their last mad-
ness and cruelty. But you are right in this—Gam-
mage must have a powerful argument to make the
Barkers listen. Saving one of them from the Rattons
is not enough. But it is a beginning."

Furtig thought of the truce flag. Even though the
Barkers had not thrown it contemptuously to earth,
refusing contact, it would take great courage for any
warrior of the People to go to it unarmed, trusting in
the good will of his enemies. Who would Gammage
choose—or who would volunteer to do that? And how
would he who went know that it was the proper time?
Would the Barkers advance a flag of their own in an-
swer?

Furtig was suddenly more eager than ever to get
back to the lairs, to know what had happened since
they had left. Had the Demons been reinforced? But

a quick question to the Tuskers reassured them as to
that—no second sky-ship had come down.

Broken Nose and his people would keep guard here,
and, being informed of the coming of the cave clans,
they would provide an alarm system to let those trav-
el in such safety as could be devised.

Ahead lay the lairs and what might await them
there. They slipped into the open with all the stealth
and craft they possessed.

Ayana stripped off the sterile gloves, and crumpled
them into a small ball, since they could not be used
again. Jacel lay with beads of pain sweat still plain on
his face. His eyes were closed, and she knew that the |
pain reliever had taken effect. Also the wound was not
so bad as she had first feared. If they could now get
him to the ship and under a renewer, in a day's time
he would have no more to show for that gash than a
well-closed seam.

But she was more than a little puzzled. There was a
med-kit at Jacel's own belt. Tan wore another. And
such a gash as this was easily handled by the materi-
als they carried. Why had they sent out that panicked
call for her?

She had asked no questions until now, being intent
on the patient. Tan, standing against the wall, had
volunteered nothing. Nor had Jacel. In fact he had
appeared to be affected out of all proportion to the
seriousness of the wound itself. Perhaps—Ayana
glanced around the bare chamber—there had been
some poisonous substance feared—but instant anti-
spray would have handled such.

Now that she had time to think-— Ayana did not
look at Tan squarely, but as if she did not want him
to see she noticed him. But Tan was not watching
her; he was staring on through the other door in the
room, seemingly so absorbed that he must see or hear
something—or be waiting for something to happen.

"What is it?" Her words sounded too loud, even
echoed a little.

Now he turned his head. And in his eyes Ayana saw
that queer gleam which frightened her. She shivered.
Cold as this place was, the protect suit should'have
kept her warm; but Tan now had the ability to chill
her through when he looked like that.

"You will have another patient, a very important
one. We have had wonderful luck, Ayana, we have
made contact—"

"Contact with whom—or what?" she demanded
when he paused.

"With those who live here. Do you know, Ayana,
this is a storehouse of information. They have shown
us tapes, machines— What we learned from the First
Ships is nothing, nothing at all to what we can learn
here! If we have time—"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, our friends are not the only ones trying to
get this information. There are others—and they may
be closer. There was a war here in the old days. And
do you know what kind of a war?" He came away
from the wall to stand over her.

Ayana rose quickly, not liking to have him tower-
ing above her so.

"A war between men and animals—animals, mind
you! Things with fur and claws and fangs that dared
to think they were equal with man—dared!" He was
breathing fast, his face flushed. "But there were oth-
ers. Men in their last days here were few, they had to
have friends, helpers—and they found them. Then,
when man was gone those others were left, left to de-
fend everything man had fought for, all the knowl-
edge he had won through his own efforts, defended
against the animals. They are still fighting that bat-
tle, but now it is our fight, too!

"They need you, Ayana. There is a place of medical
information—think of it—a storage of all the wealth
of knowledge of man's time on this world! They have
been trying to hold that against the enemy. They
need our help so badly. One of their leaders, a genius
among them, one who has been able to untangle many
of the old records, was badly injured in fighting the
animals. He has been taken to this center, and now

they need your aid.

"Think of it, Ayana—such devices of healing as
were just hinted at in our records! You can see them,
learn to use them—you can help this leader. It is such
a chance as only luck could have given us."

He was in one of his exultant moods, but to a de-
gree she had never seen before.

"Tan's luck—" she said before she thought.

He nodded vigorously. "Tan's luck! And it is going
to help us—help us win a whole world for man again!
But they're coming—listen!"

She could hear Jacel's heavy breathing, and then
something else, a light pattering. There was a gleam
of light beyond the door, and those Tan expected ar-
rived. Ayana gasped and shrank back.

These were not the furred creatures of the bridge

which she had half expected, but something she in-
stinctively found repulsive.

They scuttled on their hind feet, but they had
naked tails at the ends of their spines. And they were
small, the largest standing a little above her knee at
its full height. Fur grew on them in ragged patches,
with naked skin between. On some, the smaller, that
fur was a dirty gray; on the two largest it was white.
Their heads had the long, narrow muzzles of animals
showing sharp teeth. Against the domes of their skulls
their ears were pointed.

Ayana hated them on sight. She watched with fro-
zen horror as Tan advanced to greet the tallest white-
furred one, which seemed to be their leader, squatting
down so that his head came closer to that of the crea-
ture.

Around its neck hung a small box. It reached with
one paw—hand?—and touched that. Then it uttered
a series of squeaks, but from the box came distorted
but still recognizable words.

"Chief-waits-hurry-hurry—"

"She is here." Tan nodded toward Ayana. "She is
ready."

"No!" Ayana cried. Not for all the knowledge, all
the treasure of this world heaped up before her, would
she go with these small horrors deeper into their bur-
rows.

Tan, on his feet, came at her, and she could not get
away. She could not even slip along the wall out of his
reach.

"Little fool!" He caught her arm in so painful a grip
that she gasped. "Do you go with them on your own
two feet, or do I inject you with a sleep-shot and let

them carry you? No stupidity is going to wreck my
plans now, do you understand?"

And she knew that he would do just that. If she
went, perhaps with an outward show of willingness,
she could at least see the road they took, might even
be able to escape. If he drugged her and they took
her—no, she had no choice.

"Try no tricks with them, they are not animals."
Tan showed his teeth almost as if they were the fangs
of the waiting squad. "Jacel discovered that. Now get
going—"

He gave her a push, and she stumbled toward the
door. Around her the creatures closed in.

Ayana stood looking about, first in bewilderment and
then with a growing excitement which drew her atten-
tion from those chittering things which had brought
her here—and even from Tan, who had followed be-
hind and with whom she had not spoken since this
nightmare began. For he had actually picked up and
carried the chief horror—that half bald, half white-
furred leader, exchanging speech with him. The girl
had pushed ahead to avoid that monstrous compan-
ionship. For monstrous her emotions told her it was!

But this place! She had studied in detail every
scrap of information having to do with medical knowl-
edge that they had found in the looted tape banks of
the First Ships. Ayana had had access in addition to
all the combined learning, surmise, and speculation of
those who had had more than a hundred years before
her to study the same records.

So now she turned slowly about, surveying a vast
and much better lighted chamber, cut by many parti-
tions rising to her shoulder height or beyond, into
booths and cubicles. This was indeed a medical center
such as her teachers had hardly dared dream existed
on the parent world.

Some of the machines she recognized from old dia-
grams—diagnostic, operative, healing— For a moment,
in her amazement and excitement, Ayana forgot her
company and went forward confidently, pausing here
and there before an installation she did know, passing
for now those she could not understand. Why—with
these—if they still worked—one could cure a nation!

Ayana put out her hand, ran finger tips along the
outer transparent wall of a healing cell. If they
worked! But how long had it been since they had been
put to use? She might be able to work out the proce-
dure for activating those she did know, always provid-
ing they were intact. But if their machinery was at
fault, she had no way of knowing what a tech would
do to put that right again.

She passed down one aisle between those partitions
and came into an open space. There before her—That table—the smell-—the pools of—blood! Ayana
recoiled as she faced it. Amid the sterile disuse
of the rest of the place, this was like a blow in the
face, to bring her to the realization of how she had
come here. The tangle of blood-stained instruments
thrown in an ugly pile on one end of the table hinted
more of cruel butchery than of any desire to heal,
What had they done here—these small monsters with
whom Tan seemed to have made some evil pact?

"Well?" Tan's voice from behind made her start,
"What do you think of this? Did I not tell you there
was more to be found than you could guess? Now-Oudu wants to know if you can use it to cure his
chief."

She looked away from that blood-stained table
with a shudder, tried to close her mind to it. And she
was able to find voice enough to croak:

"Some of this was on the tapes. The rest"—Ayana
shook her head—"is new. And we do not know wheth-
er the power works."

"Oudu will know." He looked at that thing he car-
ried, as if, Ayana thought, it was human!

"Some work—" The dry rustle of the words overlay
the shrill chittering as the box on the creature's chest
translated. "There is material to try with—"

"Material?" Ayana could not force herself to look
directly at Oudu, nor address it—him. "What does he
mean?"

"I believe they have been experimenting for them-
selves. They have taken prisoners from time to time,
the animals roaming in here. They use them, just as
our ancestors used to do. That's why those were here
in the first place—they were lab animals."

"We—we were helpers of the Great Ones!" came
that other voice. "Workers here. The others, they were
used to try the machines upon—as we do now. But
many escaped, many lie in wait—kill—destroy. They
destroy the records, the knowledge. Soon all will be
gone if we do not stop them."

"See?" Tan demanded. "We have to stop such de-
struction—or we'll lose everything."

"Do not waste time!' Oudu cut in. "Shimog dies.
Let this knowing female use her knowledge to make
Shimog live again.'

Ayana swallowed. "I have to see-see—"

"Naturally. They have him down here." Tan passed
that ghastly table as if it did not exist, and she fol-
lowed, glad to leave it. But she knew now that she
played a game, and it would not be Tan's. No alliance
with these things—she could not do it. Not for all the
knowledge here!

Not even, asked something within her, if it means
the success or failure of your mission? The life or death
of those on Elhorn? But Elhorn was far away, and
here—here was now, before her. She could only fol-
low Tan's lead for a time, waiting for a chance, a plan,
to wrest herself free of this nightmare.

They came to a cubicle at the end of the line, and
there was a gathering of the creatures, several on
guard at the door, two by the cot within. Lying on the
cot was one even larger than Oudu and even more
scantily furred.

It—he—was swollen of paunch. And the skin, where
it showed, was dark, scaled with sores. Breath came
and went in slow, heavy panting, -as if the effort to
breathe was almost too great. Its attendants drew
back as Ayana forced herself on her knees close to the
creature.

She could not find any pity, even when the thing
turned its head a fraction and looked at her. For the
consciousness within those eyes was coldly evil.
Ayana recognized intelligence of a type so alien to all
she believed in that it was like meeting black and
deadly hatred formed into a repulsive body.

There was no way of telling how or why Shimog
suffered. She could only guess that it was from some
disease. But that might be native to this planet, or to
the creature's own foul species. Certainly she had
never seen such symptoms before.

"What can you do?" Tan demanded impatiently.
What? She had no idea. Except one. She had seen
something out there she had recognized-—a renewal
chamber. If this Shimog was in the least responsive to
what would act for humans, that might be the best
hope.

"The renewal chamber. If the installation works—
that might help."

"A machine?" Oudu demanded. "You can run this
machine?"

"I have seen directions for such," she answered,
careful not to make any promises to these small dev-
ils. "I would have to try it, to make sure that it was
running properly, before we used it on your chief."

"To do so then you must have an animal?" came
the swift demand.

"But it will only work on one hurt—or ill."
"We have what is needed."

Oudu did not add to that, but he might have given
some inaudible order, for most of those who had come
with them scurried away.

Troubled, Ayana arose. "I must see the renewer—"
Free of that cubicle with its fetid odor, its aura of
dark hate, she ran back to the glass-walled booth with
the soft flooring. It was large enough to accommodate
some twenty beings of Shimog's size, perhaps five hu-
mans.

She did not open the door, but went to the controls.
I Since she could not set for any particular disease,
well, it would be full treatment. Yes, here were the
symbols she had seen on the tapes. And a single
finger-press brought an answering spark of life-
worked! At least the power was still on. And—Ayana whirled—those sounds!

Toward her—she wanted to be sick. Those they
were dragging, crying, babbling. No—this was a dead-
ly nightmare! Then her head rang as Tan slapped her
hard across the face.

"Those are only animals, experimental animals, do
you understand? Sure, the Rattons don't play pretty
with their enemies but neither do the animals with
Rattons!"

Ayana caught her tongue between her teeth, bit on
it. Tan—was this Tan? Not her Tan but the one who
had come alive since they had landed on this cursed
world. For cursed it had to be!

The nightmare crew pulled, rolled those torn and
mangled bodies into the renewal chamber, slammed
the door.

"Get to it!" Tan's hands on her shoulders brought
her about before the controls. "Prove it, one way or
the other."

She could not think straight—but she must. Those
poor wrecks, perhaps she could give them merciful un-
consciousness, death. Ayana sent the machine into
humming life. She did not look into the chamber as
she jerked the lever up to full power, hoping that
would kill mercifully, quickly. Now she was disciplin-
ing her thoughts into some kind of coherent order.

She would never join Tan in his alliance with these
Rations—not ever! There was a point past which no
thought of gain could carry one. And Ayana was
there. Therefore, if she was to get out of this venture

alive, she would have to move before the Rations real-
ized that she was not their ally.

Tan had taken her stunner, but she had something
else in her kit which could be a weapon. If she could
get that in hand—

"This will take time." She kept her voice level.
"And Shimog—a sedative might help."

"Give it to him then."

Still not looking into the chamber, Ayana went
back to the ailing leader. She brought out openly
what she needed, charged it. Luckily Tan knew no
more than the necessary medic first aid. Correct dos-
age of this meant nothing to him.

"I will give your leader"—she would not look to
Oudu—"sleep that he may rest until the machine is
proven."

"Not so!" Oudu's harsh protest shook her, though
she hoped not to open betrayal. "Prove no harm—
Mog!"

One of the guard came forward.

"Prove on Mog."

"Very well." She held the injector to the Ration's
forearm, pressed the plunger.

He blinked, gave a little sigh, and crumpled to the
floor. Oudu bent over him for a moment.

"Truth. Mog sleeps. Let Shimog also sleep."

Ayana bent to that task. The easiest part of her
plan was over. She screwed at the cap of the injector
as if closing it. But instead she opened it to full. Now
she held a weapon of a sort, one meant to handle per-
haps even more than one difficult patient at a time,
ones who could not be closely approached.

What she had used on Mog and Shimog had been
but a small portion of the dosage with which she had
charged this. The trouble now was the difference in
height between her enemies—Tan so much the taller.

Because of his superior height and strength, she de-
cided he must go first. Ayana arose, still watching
Shimog, as if she wished to be sure of his condition.
Then she turned swiftly, the injector ready.

Straight into Tan's face went that subduing spray.
She had no time to see its efficacy as she went on to
aim at the Rations.

"You—you!" Tan's hands came at her. His fingers
actually closed on her arm, then loosened as he went
down. Around him the Rations, bewildered by her at-
tack, also wilted.

Ayana caught up her kit. She did not know how
long they would be unconscious. By the time they re-
covered, she must be well away from here—perhaps
even back to the ship, if that were possible. But be-
fore she left she had one more duty, to make sure
those poor things in the chamber were safely dead,
their suffering over.

Down one aisle, up the next, then she was at the
chamber where the motor purred on. She looked in—

It was not possible!

With both hands flat against the glass Ayana
watched something out of a wild dream. Lost, man-
gled limbs, mutilated bodies—they could not regrow—
heal—in this fashion! She had turned the power to
full force. Had she, in hopes for a swift death for the
wreckage the Rations had dragged there, done just
the opposite—given them not only life, but healed
such hurts as she had thought no living thing could
long survive?

If—if this was happening as her eyes reported-—
then she could not go and leave them. Once the Rat-
tons recovered, knew she was gone, then the ven-
geance they would take on these—! She would have
condemned them to far worse torment.

But the changes, the healing, although already
spectacular, would have to be complete, and how long
dared she wait?

Ayana opened her kit. She had one more charge of
the sedative, but it was less than the full one she had
just used. Her only chance would be to keep watch on
those she had left with Shimog. What if others came?
Shimog was their leader. Would there not be visitors,
a changing of guard?

Tan's weapons—the blaster—her stunner!

Ayana ran back. She rolled Tan over, plundered his
belt of everything which could serve as a weapon.
Then, as she passed that terribly stained table, she
swept off the instruments, the things which had been
used to maim and not repair.

Back before the chamber she piled up her strange
assortment of armament. How long would she have to
wait? Waiting was harder to face, she discovered,
than open attack.

In the time which followed she prowled back and
forth between the cubicle and the renewal chamber.
On her second visit to the cubicle she heard a scut-
tling and stood ready with the stunner.

Moments later five more Rattons were laid out with
their fellows. But how long before someone took
alarm and sent a larger force, perhaps one even a blast'
er could not rout? There was no hurrying the heal-
ing, but every time she checked the process, Ayana
was amazed at what was happening. What wonders
her ancestors had been able to do! But if they could
produce such miracles of life, then what had brought
about the death of this city, the flight of the First
Ship?

The Rations boasted that they had been the com-
panion-aides of the men who had once lived and
worked here. She knew that degeneration could cause
awesome changes in both physical and mental states.
But she did not believe that man and Ratton—Rat-
ton? There was a familiar sound to that name—she
frowned and began to search memory.

Those others, too, the animals— Once more she
went to study them. There was still the teasing re-
semblance to Putti— If she could only remember!    I

"Ratton—" She repeated that name aloud. "Rat-
ton—rat!"

Rat! A tape picture came to vivid life in her mind.
Rat—a creature used in lab experiments! But those
had been small! What had happened to bring a four-
footed, small rat to the size of the erect-standing, in-
telligent Ration? Had this been the result of experi-
ments? But rats had been tools used by men, never
his aides—unless something had gone wrong. If they
could only learn the truth!

"Rat!" Ayana said again. The word was ugly, as
ugly as the things it named. She looked once more to
her patients. They lay as if asleep, but they breathed
easily, mended steadily—if perhaps too slowly for all
their future safety.

They were akin to the creatures Tan had recorded
on the bridge. Then they had gone armed. It was ap-
parent that they walked erect and were not animals.

About them that elusive memory— Putti—but not
really the soft-bodied plaything of childhood. More
pictures on learning tapes? Ayana tried systemat-
ically to recall what she could of those. If the Rations
had been rats—then these must also have had anoth-
er beginning.

Like a flash on a visa-screen, bright and sharply
clear, she remembered at last.

Not Putti but cat!

"Cat!" Ayana called that name as if to awaken the
sleepers.

Cats! So the Rattons had lied. For the cat on the
ancient tapes had been truly a companion of man. So
much so that his children had lovingly cherished their
Puttis when they could not have the real creature to
solace their wandering days.

Though these, in turn, were not cats of the past.
Ayana could trace the likenesses, perhaps most in the
heads with the stiffly whiskered faces, in the upstand-
ing, pointed ears, and in the tails.

But one of the sleepers was again different—anoth-
er species. She studied him now. There were no
whiskers, though he was tailed. But the tail did not lie
in as limber a way. His "face" had a longer muzzle,
and his ears, larger, were in flaps.

The others were cats, or they had come from cats.
But what was this one? Again Ayana returned to
memory pictures. And she found what she sought—
canine—dog! Again an old companion of man.

Cat-people, dog-people, still here in man's home,
carrying on war with Rations. But where were the
men? How long since they had disappeared? And why
had they gone? Were the Rations responsible? Ayana
could hardly believe that. Even though those horrors
might~be able to muster whole armies, they could not
have cleared out their masters, masters who were
equipped with the weapons she knew existed here—
the kind she had seen the cat-person wearing.

One of the patients stirred, opened his eyes. Large
and green, they stared straight into hers. His ears
flattened to his skull, he drew himself up against the
wall of the chamber, his clawed hands coming up in
menace.

He must believe she was one with the Rations! But
now they had a- common cause. How could she ex-
plain? Unless by understanding where he was, what
was happening, he would know—

The look in those green eyes, cold and measuring,
daunted Ayana. She edged away from the window,
decided it was time to check again on the sleepers.
But this time went more slowly. If the cat-people, the
dog-person, should turn on her, too— She could use
the weapons, but if she did she would never learn the
truth, perhaps never herself escape from this place in
which the inhabitants apparently hunted each other
with ferocious zeal.

Ayana stood looking down at Tan. When she left he
would remain. So she must give him a chance. He was
no longer one with her. If he had ever really been so,
but he was one of her kind. And she believed that
these filthy new allies of his would turn on him vi-
ciously when they discovered what had happened.
She should return the stunner to him, give the rest of
the sleepers an extra spray so they would still be
under when his sedation wore off. In the meantime
she would try to prevent any more arrivals.

The door at the end of the hall had no locks that
Ayana could understand. But she closed it and then
piled there all the loose and heavy objects she could
turn into a barricade.

When she had finished Ayana stumbled back to the
renewal chamber so tired she could barely urge one
foot before the other. She had Extend pills, enough to
renew her energy for the final dash out of here. But
she would not waste those by premature use. There
were E rations, one tube, in her belt loops. She turned
the cap to heat and waited until she could twist that
off and squeeze the semi-liquid contents into her
mouth.

Having eaten, she went to look in the chamber.
Time was passing far too fast, she might be pushed to
a move soon.

Those inside were all conscious. The one cat-person
who had first revived was standing. As she watched,
he reached down to draw another up, a female, the
scars of her wounds still rawly red but closed. There
was another male, and the dog-person, who, Ayana
saw, had moved away from the other three, fitting his
back into a corner as if he expected to be attacked.

There came a sudden sharp sound, enough to bring
a weapon into Ayana's hand, set her looking about
wildly. Then she realized that the light on the control
board had gone out, the hum of the machine was sub-
siding. Apparently the chamber had turned itself off.
Perhaps some indication that the work was done.

Now that the time had come to release the captives,
Ayana found herself hesitant. The manifest anger in
the male's expression— But they were weak, helpless,
and she was armed—

With the stunner ready in her right hand, she spun
the lock with her left. The door opened.

They were gathered just within as if ready to bolt
for freedom, the three cat-people to the fore, the dog-
person behind. Ayana heard hisses—a rumble of
growl. She did not want to use the stunner, it might
plunge them all straight back into captivity.

"No—" But they could not understand her, of
course. However she babbled on as if they could.
"Friend—friend!"

Their ears were flat to their skulls, their fangs ex-
posed, their hands up with claws extended. If they
came at her she would have no recourse but to shoot.

"Friend-^-"

A louder growl in answer. Ayana moved aside, re-
treated slowly, step by step, leaving a clear path be-
tween them and the door through which Tan and the
Rations had earlier brought her. Though she still held
the stunner at ready, she waved them on in a gesture
she hoped they would understand.

They moved slowly, stiffly, but gave no sign of pain.
They moved with their heads turned toward her, their
eyes watching. Then they reached the door and were
gone, though for a moment or two she could still hear
the shuffle of their feet.

Ayana breathed a sigh of relief. Her waiting was
done. Now she must make good her own escape. She
went for the last time to the huddle of the Ration
party, giving the Rations a dose of stunner ray and
then laid the weapon in Tan's lax hand.

He groaned and she jerked back as if he had made
to seize her. He must be close to waking. She must get
away fast— Ayana turned and ran, stopping only by
the renewer to catch up her kit, following the path of
the released captives.

She was afraid to use her torch. Luckily there
seemed to be a very dim light here, enough to show
the way. She must concentrate on the route she had
tried to memorize when they brought her in. But first
the Extend pills. Her chest hurt as she breathed after
that last spurt of speed. Ayana groped within the kit.
Two ought to be enough. She mouthed the tablets.

They were bitter, and she had trouble swallowing
them dry. But she hurried on even before they
worked, so she was in another passage when that ach-
ing fatigue lifted. Ayana felt not only completely rest-
ed, but alert of mind, able to do anything. The eu-
phoria which was a side effect of such a large dose of
Extend gripped her and she forced herself to re-
member that this feeling of superb well-being was
only illusionary.

This passage—had they come this way? But they
must have— The trouble was that one of these ways
looked exactly like another. Where had they left
Jacel? She had tried to establish landmarks on the
way in but had found few. And there were several
places of forking corridors. She must remember—she
must!

She had no warning. Out of some shadowed way
she had not even glanced into, they sprang. Furred
arms closed about her thighs as one -attacker struck
with force enough to crash her to the ground.

Furtig studied their captive. So—this was a Demon!
Though a female, not a warrior. But still a Demon
and as such to be feared. He heard a soft hiss of
breath. Eu-La, somewhat accustomed now to the
wonders of the legendary lairs, had moved beside
him and with her Liliha. While behind them came two
of the In-born males carrying a box with a coil of wire
laid on its cover.

The Demon was awake. When they had taken her
captive, she had fallen heavily and struck her head, so
they had taken her easily enough before she could
reach for weapons. And now here came Jir-Haz, to
whom they owed the capture itself.

"You can do this?" Furtig asked Liliha. "Speak to
the Demon in her own tongue?"

"We hope to do this thing. By listening to Demon
voices on their tapes we can understand their words.
But we cannot make those same noises ourselves. But
perhaps with this"—she laid a proprietary hand upon
the box—"we can twist our speech enough for her to
understand our questions."

But the Demon spoke first. She had been looking
from one to the other of them, first in what Furtig rel-
ished as open fear (thus proving that the warriors of
the People qould strike fear even into Demons) and
now with something close to appeal. For she spoke to
Liliha, at first so fast and in such a gabble of sound,
Furtig could make little of it.

However, Liliha, her ears attuned from very young
years to the teaching machines, did sort out enough of
those uncouth noises to make sense.

"She wishes to know where she is—and who we
are." Then, the In-born having set one end of the wire
into the box, Liliha took up a disk fastened to the
other and held it close to her mouth, speaking slowly
and carefully into it.

"This is the lair of Gammage. We are the People."

It was weird, for they could hear Liliha's words.
But also there was a secondary gabble, like a blurred
echo following.

The Demon's face was so strange, so unlike that of
a rational being that one could hardly hope to learn
anything from her expression. But Furtig dared to
imagine she was surprised.

"Speak slowly," Liliha was continuing. "We can
understand Demon speech, but our tongues cannot
twist to answer it."

He saw the Demon's tongue tip on her lower lip.
She could not move; they had bound her after peeling
off her coverings. For it seemed that the Demons had
no fur but wore loose outer skins to be stripped off.

"You-are-cats—" Even he could understand those
queerly accented words.

"Cats? No, People," Liliha corrected her. "Why
come you here?"

"What-are-you-to-do-with-me?"  The  Demon
looked beyond Liliha to Jir-Haz. "He-was-in-the-
healing-chamber. I-let-him-go—"

"Who knows a Demon's purpose?" Jir-Haz de-
manded of them all. "Yes, I was healed, as was Tiz-
Zon, and A-San and the Barker. After we were near to
death, she had the Rations put us there. -That they
might return us to life and then once more rend us for
their pleasure! Is that not so. Demon?" He leaned
closer to hiss at her.

"I-could-have-killed—" the Demon said. "But-
I-let-him-go."

"That is the truth?" Liliha asked Jir-Haz.

His tail lashed. "We told our story to the Elders.
Yes, she let us go. Doubtless that the Rations might
have the sport of once more hunting us! Why else
would a Demon heal our bodies and then release us?"

Liliha spoke into the disk. "Jir-Haz says that you
did this for the Rattons, that they might once more
torment our people. Such was what the Demons did
in the old days."

"The-Rattons—" The Demon's face was flushed.
She tried to loose her hands, struggled against the
ties. "I-was-with-the-Rattons-against-my-will—"

"There was another Demon, a male," Jir-Haz cut
in. "He was not with her when she came to look in
upon us during the healing. Nor was he there when
she loosed us. Ask her concerning him!"

Liliha relayed the question. The Demon lay still as
if she knew the folly of battling those bonds.

"I-left-him-with-Shimog. I-put-them-all-to-sleep
-so-I-might-escape-and-your-people-also—"

"Why?" Liliha asked, almost, Furtig thought, as if
she could believe what must be a false answer. For
why should a Demon turn against one of her own kind
to aid the People? No, she was false and would betray
them if they believed her.

"Because-I-saw-Shimog-and-what-they-had-
done-to-your-people. I-am-a-healer-of-hurts-not-
one-to-give-them!"

"All Demons are false!" burst out Jir-Haz. "The
other Demon, the Rattons, stayed out of sight that
she might play friend and later point out our trail."

But Furtig had been thinking, and Jir-Haz's last
accusation bothered him.

"When you captured this one," he asked, "was she
not alone? Were there any Rations or the other
Demon with her?"

"Yes," Liliha added. "If she was alone, why was
that so, supposing that she hunted you? Your story is
that you had sent A-San ahead, and the Barker had
gone his own way. She had three trails to follow,
which did she seek?"

Jir-Haz's tail twitched. "None," he said slowly.
"The Demon was taking a fourth way, going from our
part of the lairs. And it is true she was alone. Also,
after we had taken her we waited for a space, but
none followed."

"So, we can believe that this Demon was not hunt-
ing you. She was alone when she watched you in the
healing chamber, she was alone when she opened the
door of that and bid you go. These are all the truth?"

"It is so," Jir-Haz acknowledged.

"Then what you yourself saw and report being so
much the truth, must we not begin to believe that this
Demon was not engaged in any hunt devised by Rat-
tons, and that perhaps she too speaks the truth?"

"But she is a Demon!" Jir-Haz protested.

For the first time Eu-La broke silence. She had gone
to stand close beside the bed on which they had laid
the Demon.

"She does not look like one who kills. See—" Eu-La
leaned over to set claw-tip to the Demon's middle.
"She is all softness, easily torn. And, though like all
Demons she is large, yet I do not believe that our war-
riors need look upon her as an ever-ready enemy. If
she loosed Jir-Haz and the others from the Rattons,
perhaps she had some reason. Why not ask her? She
said she heals not harms, ask her how she does this
and why. And how she came among the Rattons—"

"Also, to some purpose," Furtig cut in "ask her
why she came to the lairs and if more Demons are on
the way." Of course the answer to that might not be
true, but it would do no harm to ask it.

He wished Gammage was here. Of them all, certain-
ly the Ancestor was best suited to deal with a Demon
and weigh truth against not truth. But the lair leader
had departed to a truce flag meeting with the Barkers
—since that hard-voiced people had sent a message
and a flag to stand beside the first, thus agreeing to
the meet. The second Barker, whom this Demon had
freed, was he another scout of the same pack? And if
so was he now making his way back to his people?

What influence would his report have on the negotia-
tions?

Slowly the Demon answered their questions. Yes,
she had come from the sky—she was one of four—All that they knew. So they were learning nothing.
But when they questioned her about the Rattons—then they could not check her story. She had come
from the ship at a call for help from one of her com-
panions; She had found him injured and had treated
him. Then the other, the Ration friend (if anyone
could friend that scum) had ordered her to treat a
Ratton leader, had threatened her if she did not.

The longer Furtig listened to her halting, slowly
spoken words, the easier it was to understand them.
And somehow they sounded true. In spite of Jir-Haz,
his own inborn distrust of Demons, everything, he
could not say this was false.

When she spoke of Shimog the very tone of her
voice (now that he was more familiar with it) bore
out her aversion to the Ratton leader. But it was Lili-
ha who brought home with a question the strange
point in the whole tale.

"So they told you that Rattons were the comrades
of Demons? But we have not learned it so. In fact, it
is recorded that until the final days when the Demons
went mad, Rattons were enemies to all. My people,
the Barkers—we once lived in friendly company with
Demons. Then the evil which the Demons themselves
wrought seized upon them. They turned against all
other living creatures, hunted them—"..

"This evil." There was such urgency in the De-
mon's voice as made them all stare. "What manner of
evil? I tell you—we came searching for the reason we
left this world, why my people long ago lifted to the
stars and then hid all mention of the past from us.
Tell me, if you know, why did they go? What hap-
pened to them here, to you—to this place?"

She looked from side to side as if begging one or an-
other to answer. Such was the power of the emotion
which flowed from her that Furtig believed in her
wholly—that she had come seeking just what she
said. Liliha did not answer at once. She spoke to Fur-
tig.

"Cut her loose!"

His hand slipped into fighting claws in obedience.
Then he hesitated. Jir-Haz growled wamingly. It
would seem that he still clung to his suspicions.

"Loose her," Liliha repeated. "What do you fear?"
she asked Jir-Haz. "Look, she has no weapons, not
even claws. Do you believe she can overcome us all?"

Furtig went forward and, seeing his hand so armed,
the Demon shrank back with a cry, trying to free her-
self before he could reach her. Liliha spoke swiftly.

"He will not harm you, he comes to loose you."

She quieted then, and he cut swiftly through the
cords.

"What would you do with me?"
"We can show you better than we can tell. Come."
So they brought the Demon to the room of learn-
ing, and there Liliha started the tape readers, those
records which had given them the information con-
cerning the last days of the Demons. Though these
were faulty and lacking in many details, as if those
who had made them had lost the skill to do so proper-
ly. Afterward Liliha explained even more of the tradi-
tions of the People and of what Gammage and the In-
born had learned.

But that took some time. And Furtig was not long
a part of it. He had other duties, and it was true that
the Demon female did not need such guarding—she
was weaponless and surrounded by Choosers who
were certainly as keen-eyed as any warrior.

There was still the matter of the Demon male and
the Rattons. How deep into Ratton territory they
dared send their own scouts was a question to bother
even Dolar. But before night their numbers began to
be augmented by an inflow of People. Not Furtig's as
yet, but Ku-La's forces.

What these brought with them, as well as their
weapons and supplies, was information, some bits
held from the days of the Demons, some gathered by
investigation in those parts of the northeastern lairs
where Gammage's explorers had never done any real
searching. Once their Choosers and younglings were
established in the safe heart of Gammage's territory,
their warriors spread out to join the In-born and the
handful of newcomers such as Furtig.

Reports came in now from questing scouts. The
Demon who had been injured had crawled out of the
tunnels, gone back to the grounded ship, which was
always under observation. The ship itself was sealed,
no hatch open. It was as if the two within it held it as
a fort against attack. On the other hand the fourth
Demon, he who had joined the Rattons, had also been
sighted.

A young warrior of Ku-La's people, very small and
slim and so able to take ways closed to those of larger
frame, had managed to squirm through a side duct
and look into a very busy place in the Ratton bur-
rows.

There were machines there like the rumblers, and
these the Rattons were swarming over, working on,
under the leadership of the Demon. It was apparent
that the machines were being readied and that could
only be to attack.

Armed with this report Dolar, with Furtig in tow,
went to the chamber where the Demon female was
with Liliha. She had shared food with them, and at
her request they had given her back those looser skins
she wore. As the warriors entered she was sitting with
Liliha exchanging talk, the translating machine on a
divan between them.

"Ask her," Dolar said abruptly, "what the Demon
does with the machines and the Rations. We believe
that they prepare an attack, and we must know how
these machines will work."

Liliha relayed the question. But when the Demon
answered, she spoke directly to Dolar.

"There are many kinds of machines. Can you tell
me, or show me, the form of these?"

He clanged his fighting claws together. A machine
was a machine. How could you find words to describe
it? Then he rounded on the In-born who was his at-tail
messenger.

"Bring the seeing box."

The warrior had not gone empty-handed into the
narrow ways, but had taken with him one of the dis-
coveries of his own people, a box which made a perma-
nent record of what he saw.

When this case was set before the Demon she ap-
peared to know it for what it was, instantly pressing
the right button. Across the room, on the wall, ap-
peared a picture, small enough fox Furtig's two hands
to cover, yet clear in details.

For a long moment the Demon studied the picture
and then she spoke:

"I do not know what all these machines may be.
See, there are at least three different kinds. But there
—that one upon which the Ratton stands—that
shoots forth fire. It is like the weapon your people
took from me but much more powerful, for the fire
spreads wider. I believe that these are machines of
war." Her voice died away, and yet she continued to
look at the picture as if there was something there to
hold her full attention.

"Machines of war, fearsome ones," Dolar repeated
as if to himself. "Let those come seeking us and per-
haps the Rations will win."

The Demon female spoke again. "You have showed
me much. Also—there is something—if I can only
make it plain to you—" She twined her hands togeth-
er, finger punishing finger in that tight grip, as if she
might wring the words she wanted to say out of her
own flesh. "I am one who heals. I have been taught to
do so since I was very young. We did not know why
our ancestors—our long-ago Elders—left these lairs.
And we have a trouble on our home world which is
bad—therefore we were sent to seek out our old
homeland, and aid.

"But when our ship landed here—we—we changed.
No more were we as we had always been. We became
strangers one to the other—" She looked at none of
them as she spoke thus, but ever at the wall pictures.
"We seemed to become—no, perhaps I cannot say it.

But you have showed me that there was once a mad-
ness here, an evil thing which possessed my kind. I
think that the shadow of that lingers still, so that we
are becoming enemies, one to the other. If this is true,
that illness must be healed, and we must go. And it
may be too late." She covered her face with her
hands, sat shivering so that Furtig could see the shud-
ders of her body. Liliha put out her hands, laid them
upon the Demon's shaking shoulders. Then, as he
never thought to see, she drew the Demon to her as
she might in comforting a sister Chooser, and held her
so.

Ayana pulled away, though the comfort of that soft
warmth the cat-woman offered was such that she
longed to cling to it. She wiped her wet cheeks with
the backs of her hands. All that she had learned was a
weight on her spirit. But it was, as these people made
much of saying, the truth. No wonder her kind had
fled this place. This sickness of spirit was as strong as
once had been the sickness of body which had either
produced it -or been the end product of it. She need
only look at that picture of Tan, at his intense, ab-
sorbed face as he readied machines to wipe out life,
and know how deeply they had been stricken.

These lairs, as they called them, lairs of darkness in
spite of all the light within, lairs of knowledge which
could kill as well as cure. Knowledge, could one pick
and choose among knowledge? A thing which might
cure in one form could be used to kill in another. As a
medic, who should know better than she? Had she not
even sought out death dealers herself on board ship,
gathered them together?

But what Tan intended—that must not be! And
there was something else, a warning she must give of
another kind. She had seen this Gammage only brief-
ly when they had first brought her in. His urging for
union among intelligent species—yes, that was a step
forward. But his thirst for alien knowledge—his tin-
kering with the scraps and remnants they played with
here—no! That was tampering with that which might
end him and his people as surely as the Rations and
Tan, equipped with war machines, could do.

However, the immediate threat—resolutely Ayana
pushed aside what might happen tomorrow, concen-
trated on today. Suppose Tan and his nightmare
army of allies did activate those machines of crawling
death? Weapons used by men who had built and inhab-
ited this complex would be very sophisticated. And
Tan would release what he could not control.

These cat-people looked to her for an answer. And
she did not have one. Jacel—Massa—could help, but
would either of them do so? She had no idea of what
had happened between Jacel and Tan before she had
reached them. But that comment of Tan's about Ja-
cel's discovery that the Rations could be dangerous if
crossed lingered now in her mind. There must have
been ill will between the two men, some argument.
Could she build on that?

It seemed to Ayana a very thin hope, but it was all
she had now.

"There are many machines, and I have no knowl-
edge of them." She made her explanation as simple as
possible. "But those in the ship still can help. I see no
other way—"

She had been long enough with the cat-people now
to be able to read expressions a little, and she saw
that suggestion was not welcome, especially to the
large male with the scarred ears. But she could not
help them. Only Jacel and Massa knew the machines.
And how much time did they have?

The growling, spitting speech of the People among
themselves was prolonged. Finally the males went out
together, leaving her once more with the females she
had learned to call Liliha and Eu-La.

"You are a Chooser?" Liliha asked, and Ayana saw
both the cat-women watching her closely, as if her an-
swer was important.

"What is a Chooser?"

They appeared startled. Then Liliha explained.
"There is a time when one wishes younglings. One's
body is ready to hold such. As mine—" She slid her
hand over her slim belly. "But not yet is Eu-La so."
She pointed to her companion's slighter figure. "When
this time comes the warriors display their strength so
that we Choosers may look upon them, judge their
skills, select one to father a youngling. You have so
chosen?"

Ayana looked down at her own hands. Not to get a
child had she chosen (or rather had had the choosing
done for her) but rather that a certain needed series
of traits could complement and perhaps fill out anoth-
er's character. Had she been subtly conditioned to ac-
cept Tan so readily? Now she suspected that. He had
become a stranger so fast, as if the sickness which
clung here had broken through'that shell of acceptance.

"I did not choose, he was chosen for me." She felt
an odd shame at making that confession.

"This then is the custom of the Demons, that a
Chooser may not choose for herself?" Liliha asked
after a long moment of silence.

"Because there were but four of us in the ship, and
we must each know certain things, yes, we were cho-
sen by others."

"Ill doing." Liliha's voice was a hiss. "For when a
Chooser chooses in truth, she knows the worth of a
warrior and he does not later become an enemy. I sor-
row for you that this was so, that now you must eat
bitterness and ashes." Her hand rested over Ayana's.
"It is well you do not have a youngling within you.'

"That is true," replied Ayana.

She was not left alone, nor was she still outwardly a
prisoner. Oddly enough, she had no desire to leave.
Liliha, Eu-La, the other cat-women who drifted in
their soundless way in and out, brought food, or sim-
ply came to sit and look at her (though she never
found their curiosity rude or disturbing) were some-
how comforting, though she could not have told why.
Several brought babies, purred them to sleep or
played with them. But after a space Ayana began to
worry.

The memory of Tan and the Rations, busy with the
war machines, was never erased from her mind,
though she did sleep at last. And she drifted off to a
purring song Liliha seemingly sang to herself as the
cat-woman brushed the shining length of her tail.

There was only the gray light of early dawn coming
through the windows when they roused her. Liliha
was there, and, by the door, the cat-man she had seen
with the scarred older warrior, the young one who had
been present before when they had questioned her.
He was making the small, almost yowling sounds of
their excited speech, and Liliha used the translator.

"The Ancestor would speak with you—it is very ur-
gent."

The male crossed the room with lithe strides, hold-
ing the translator. Ayana noted that his strange claw
weapons hung from his belt, that belt which was his
only clothing. For, though the cat people appeared to
vary in the amount of natural fur on their bodies,
nearly hairless like Liliha in some cases, or as deeply
furred as this male, they wore no coverings.

They went along the corridors, down two ramps,
and then climbed another for some distance, until
they reached a room where there was a gathering of
warriors, a sprinkling of females.

All were grouped about one male. He was a little
stooped, his muzzle fur frosted, his arms and legs thin
and shrunken. About his bowed shoulders was a cloak
of shimmering stuff, which set him apart from the
others, though his very air was enough to do that. She
recollected having seen him much earlier, in that time
she had been a bound prisoner.

This was Gammage who was their leader, or ruler,
whose dream it was to reclaim the Demon knowledge
for his people.

He stared straight at Ayana as she entered. In one
hand he held a translator disk, the box resting before
him on the floor.

"They tell me," he began abruptly, "that you be-
lieve those in the ship have more knowledge of these
war machines."

"That is so." Cat—man—mixture—there was some-
thing very impressive about this Elder. Ayana could
understand how he had managed to gather together
seekers after knowledge and inspire them through the
years.

"Will they support the Rations, or will they aid
us?" He came directly to the point.

"I do not know, I can only ask," she said simply, as
directly as he had asked.

Gammage made his decision. "Then that you shall
do."

Furtig crouched in the shadow of the doorway, one of
the party that had escorted the female Demon out of
the lairs. She stood out there alone now, in full sight
of those in her ship. And the People had given her
back the device to signal her companions. Furtig held
one of the lightning throwers. He could send the
crackling lash to cut down the Demon at the first sus-
picion of betrayal.

Liliha, though she was armed—so close to him now
that when she moved the thin run of fur on the out-
side of her rounded arm brushed his—made no move
to draw her weapon. She had insisted that the Demon
was to be trusted, that she wanted indeed to halt the
Rattons and her own male. Though it was hard for
the warriors to accept such a turning against one's
own kind.

It would seem that this was a Chooser thing, allied
in a way to whatever moved them when they made
mate choice. Liliha had sworn before the Elders, and
it was very plain she believed what she said, that this
Demon, though she had chosen the male now prepar-
ing to send fiery death against them, had not done
that by her own willing and that she wanted no young-
ling of his.

Strange were the ways of Demons, strange even
were the People's ways now. For their party had not
only been augmented by Ku-La's warriors, but, in ad-
dition, by those from the caves, who had finally ar-
rived. And—in an opposite doorway—were Barkers!

Never had Furtig believed he would be allied in any
way with those. Yet Gammage and the two scouts res-
cued from the Rattons had convinced the Barkers to
send in a small pack, perhaps as observers only. Still
they were warriors, and no real fight would leave
them lurking in the shadows.

A strange sound from the field—the bridge into the
sky-ship was now dropping from the open hatch in its
side. The Demon need only to run up that to be safe.
Furtig was not sure any of them could use the strange
weapons quickly enough to cut her down.

Liliha held to her ear one of the corns—as the
Demon called them. Through that she could hear
what the Demon said to her own kind. And she was
not running, not moving at all. For some very long
moments nothing happened. No one appeared in the
hatch. All through those dragging minutes Furtig fully
expected some awesome weapon to come into action,
to their finish.

However, it would seem Liliha was right about the
female Demon keeping to her word. At length a figure
appeared on the ship's bridge, advancing slowly. It
was muffled in clumsy wrappings so it hardly looked
like a living thing, more like one of the unreliable lair
servants.

It tramped down the ramp, strode ponderously to-
ward the waiting Demon. While it was still some
paces away, its thick-fingered hands, almost as clum-
sy as Furtig's own when he tried to use some delicate
lair tool, thumbed something at throat level. The
head covering rose and flopped back on its shoulders.

"That is the other female," Liliha reported. "The
one Ayana calls Massa—"

Furtig supposed that among themselves the De-
mons had names as did the People, the Barkers, even
the Rations. But he had never thought of the enemy
as living normal, peaceful lives—only as the evil crea-
tures of the old tales.

Dolar was beyond Liliha. "What do they say?" he
rasped.

"The one from the ship asks questions— Where has
Ayana been, what happens here. Now Ayana tells her
there is much danger, they must talk. She asks about
the other Demon—Jacel. Massa is angry. She says
that he is ill, that Ayana must come and see to his ill-
ness. She asks where is Tan—there is anger in that.
Now she says that Tan is the one who allowed the
Rattons to wound her mate. That he must be wrong
in his head—"

"Twist-minded like the Demons of old," cut in
Dolar. "Mad—then dead. We must see to it that this
time we are not also caught in that death! What say
they now?"

"Ayana tells Massa that there is great danger, that
Tan will bring death unless he is stopped. Massa says
let Tan do as he will here, let them get on the ship
and raise it into the sky, return to their own world—"

How easy that would be! Furtig growled, heard a
similar sound from Dolar. Easy enough for these De-
mons to lift, leaving the evil one to finish here. And
how could any of the People stop him? Oh, they
might be able to blast these two females now. Then
the one left in the ship—if he were sick perhaps he
was also twist-minded—might join the one in the lairs
in loosing the weapons the ship carried—

"Ayana says 'no/ " Liliha's voice quickened with
excitement. "She says that the one called Tan must
be stopped. That they can never leam what they
came for—"

"And what is that?" demanded one of the warriors
crouched behind them.

"They came here—Ayana spoke with Gammage of
it this morning," Furtig answered, as Liliha was plain-
ly intent on the corn to her ear, "hunting two things—
the reason their Ancestors quit this world, and an an-
swer to an evil now destroying their new home among
the stars. Gammage has promised that when we have
beaten the Rations she may seek such knowledge."

"When we beat the Rattons—say rather if we beat
the Rattons!" commented someone else. Furtig saw
that speaker was Fal-Kan.

"Be that as it may, there is knowledge here that
they seek," Furtig answered with not quite the defer-
ence due an Elder. "Gammage made a bargain with
this Demon. But she must persuade those in the ship
to honor it."

"The one called Massa"—Liliha signalled for si-
lence—"says she will do nothing until Ayana aids the
sickness of her mate. If he is helped, then she will
think of this."

"If the Demon goes inside the ship we shall have no
way to watch her!" Dolar instantly objected.

"She will not go alone." Liliha arose. "I go with
her."

Into the private lair of the Demons? Furtig moved.
He had already slipped his left hand into his fighting
claws. And in the other he had the lightning thrower.

"Not alone!" He thought his tone was not his usual
one, but no one seemed to notice. Dolar twitched tail
in assent.

Liliha handed the second corn to the tough old
Elder. "Set it so." She fitted it into his ear. "I do not
know whether it will reach into the ship for you to
hear. We can only hope it does."

Without glancing at Furtig, she stepped gracefully
out of the doorway, her tail curled upward a little as if
she went with pleasure. Pride brought him level with
her, trying to assume the same appearance of uncon-
cern.

The Demon Massa saw them first, gave a cry, and
Ayana turned her head. Liliha, having no interpreter
box, pointed to her, the ship, and used hand language.

Ayana nodded her head. Furtig, with the other in-
terpreter, caught fragments of speech. She spoke
much faster than she did with the People, and so was
difficult to understand.
"We will go to Jacel."

Massa turned, all those extra layers of loose skin
making her move slowly. Ayana walked behind her,
Liliha and Furtig keeping pace. So they climbed the
ramp to the ship.

Furtig's nostrils expanded, took in the many odors,
most of them new, some disagreeable. There were
strange pole steps one must climb. He set the light-
ning thrower between his jaws, for he must use all
four limbs here. He hated the closed-in feeling of a
trap which the cramped interior gave him.

Yet he stared carefully about him, intent on mak-
ing good use of, this chance to see the marvels of the
Demons, wishing he could understand it all better.

In the small side chamber where the other male
Demon lay in a niche within the wall, there was room
for only the two females. But Furtig and Liliha could
watch through the doorway. The Demon's face was
flushed, his head turned restlessly from side to side,
his eyes were half open. But, though they rested on
Furtig, there was no sign that the Demon really saw
the warrior.

Ayana was busy. She used a box from which wires
ran to pads she held against the Demon's head,
against his chest, watching the top of the machine
where there sounded a steady clicking. Then she took
up two small rods, opened them to slide in even thin-
ner tubes in which liquid moved as she turned them.
The ends of the outer rods she pressed to the bare
skin of the Demon, on his arm, on his chest, at one
point on his throat.

Before she had finished, his head no longer rolled,
but lay quiet, his eyes closed. Then she spoke to
Massa, slowly, as if she wanted the People to hear and
understand.

"He will sleep, and wake all right. It is an infection
from his wound, but not serious. This place is poison-
ous in more ways than one, Massa."

Massa had settled down beside the sleeping male,
her hand over his, watching his face intently.

"Tan—Tan did this to him," she said. "What hap-
pened to Tan?"

"The same thing which destroyed those who re-
mained here." Ayana put away the instruments.
"Madness. And now Tan is about to destroy even
more. You will have to help stop him, Massa, help
us—"

"Us? Us, Ayana? You are helping these—these an-
imals?" The Demon Massa looked to Furtig and Lili-
ha, and there was fear in her eyes.

"Not animals, Massa—people—the People. This is
Liliha, Furtig." She motioned from one to the other.
"They have their lives and more than their lives at
stake here. Our ancestors made them—"

"Robos?"

Ayana shook her head at that queer word. "No. Re-
member the old learning tapes, Massa? Remember
'cat' and 'dog' and 'rat'—and Putti, a dear friend?"

Furtig saw a little of the fear fade from the other's
eyes, a wonderment take its place.

"But those were animals!"

"Were once. Just as we were once also. I do not
know what really happened here, besides the spread
of a madness which wrecked a whole species and al-
tered others past recognition. But whatever our an-
cestors loosed, or tried to do deliberately, out of it
grew the People who were cats, the Barkers who were
dogs, and the Rattons—rats. And it is the latter Tan
deals with—the filthy, merciless, torturing latter! He
uses their aid to start old war machines, planning to
wreck this world. Our ancestors left the company of
those who began this grim wastage; we must stop it
now."

"I do not know how you have learned all this."
Massa raised the hand of the sleeping Demon and
held it to her cheek. "But Tan—he turned those evil
Rations on Jacel. I owe him for that!"

Beside Furtig, Liliha stirred. She spoke in a small
whisper. "This one did not have a mate chosen for
her, or if she did, then her choice was the same. She
will join us, I think, because she hates the ones who
harmed him."

Thus when they came forth from the ship again
they were not three but four. And all of them carried
boxes and containers Ayana and Massa had chosen
from supplies.

They transported these to the place where Gam-
mage had gathered his battle leaders. Not only were
Elders of the Barkers there, keeping to themselves,
watching the People from eye corners (as the People
surveyed them in return), but also Broken Nose
brought in the pick of his warriors and they stood
snuffling and grunting in one corner, their heavy-
tusked leader in the circle about Gammage.

While the Ancestor made hand and speech talk,
deft-fingered In-bom moved small blocks here and
there on the floor.

"The passages run so." Gammage gestured to the
collection of blocks. "Walls stand thus. They can
bring out the war machines only here, and here. We
have scouts at each exit to warn of their coming—"

"But will we have time for such a message to reach
us?" The Barker Elder's hand signs were awkward by
the People's standard but effective enough to be un-
derstood.

"Yes—he will do it." Gammage pointed to Furtig.

"He is here—the scouts are there—" The gestures
of the Barker were impatient.

"He can see—in his head—"

Furtig only hoped that Gammage was right, that
his ability to contact the scouts would work. Poskatt
was one, having with him the box to step up their
communication. A second warrior, a small, very agile
follower from Ku-La's tribe, had tested out well in
box-Furtig contact too. It was the best they could, do,
for Foskatt could not cover both exits at once.

The Barker chief stared at Furtig. If he did not be-
lieve Gammage, at least he did not say so. Perhaps he
had been shown enough inside the lairs to lead him to
accept any wild statement.

"Only two ways for them to come," Gammage con-
tinued vocally for his own people and the Demon fe-
males. "And it is near to those that they must be
stopped. We have taken all the servant machines and
set them at the beginning of each way, ready to put
into action. Though those will only cause a little
delay. And with such fire shooters"—she looked now to
Ayana—"as you say those are, perhaps the delay will
be a very short one."

"Massa?" Ayana spoke the name of her sister
Demon like a question.

The other was studying a picture projected on the
wall, the one showing the details of what Tan and the
Rattons were doing. "Those are storage powered."
Her words made little sense to Furtig. "If the power
could be shorted, or stepped up by feed radiation—"

"They would blow themselves up! "Ay ana joined
her. "Could we do that?"

"With a strong enough transmitter hook-up. But to
do it underground— The backlash would be so power-
ful—there is no way of measuring what might hap-
pen."

"Yet if they bring those out—use them—"

Massa looked from Ayana to the mixed company of
allies. "To whom here do we owe a debt? And re-
member, Tan would be lost, too."

Ayana turned her head also, looked from Liliha to
Furtig, to Gammage, old Broken Nose, the people of
Ku-La, those of the lair, the caves, the Barkers. It
was as if she studied them all to make sure she knew
them.

"Tan has already made his choice," she said slowly.
"The debt is owed to all .these. It is an old debt.
Those of our blood started them on the road which
they now travel. Our blood did ill here, and if we do
not halt Tan, it shall do worse. Since we were respon-
sible, these must have their chance. There is our old
madness—and here is new life beginning. If we allow
this war to break loose, we shall have to face a second
failure for our kind. We must do what we can here
and now."

"You then accept the full consequences of what will
happen?" Massa spoke solemnly like one giving a
challenge to battle.

"I accept."

"So be it."

Under the guidance of Massa, who went through
the storerooms of the In-born (pausing sometimes
with exclamations of one finding treasures until she
was hurried on by Ayana), the lair defenders drew
out many things they did not understand, placed
those on carts which could be driven down into the
lower levels.

They finally chose a single point, where the attack-
ers must pass if they would reach the key entrance to
Gammage's territory, and there they erected the bar-
ricade. Massa crawled in and out laying wires, placing
boxes, those she had brought from the ship, others
from the stores.

Furtig saw none of this. Against his will he sat in
Gammage's headquarters, trying to keep his mind re-
ceptive to scout reports. Squatting on their heels be-
fore him were two younglings selected for their swift
running, ready to carry warning to those who set up
the final line of defense.

Meanwhile, out of this section of the lairs in which
Gammage's people had so long sheltered, that tribe
and the more recently joined kinsmen were moving
not only their families and personal belongings, but
load after load of the highly useful discoveries. For
Massa had warned that when attack came, and if the
counteraction she planned worked, there might even
be an end to the buildings themselves.

Warriors, shaking, with weariness, started appear-
ing from below, stopped to pick up and stagger on
with some last loads of discoveries. At last came the
final party of all, Gammage, Dolar, the two Demons,
three of the People, and two Barkers.

"We go—" Gammage staggered. He looked very
thin and frail and old, as if all his years had fallen on
him at once. Dolar was supporting him as he went.

"The Demon says this is a distance weapon, released
by what she has in her hand—"

Furtig did not rise. "I cannot receive the alarm
from below at any greater distance than this." As he
said that a hollow emptiness was in him as if he
hungered—but not for food, rather for the hope of
life. He had tested the limits of the mind-send—and
had accepted the fact that he could not retreat with
the rest, any more than could Foskatt or the young
scout of Ku-La's band, who were at their posts below.
"But—" Ayana paused after that one word.
Slowly Dolar made an assenting tail sweep.
"How long"—Furtig hoped his voice was reasonably
steady, the proper tone for a warrior about to lead
into battle—"must you know before you use this ma-
chine of yours?" He was using the interpreter and
spoke directly to the Demon.

Ayana pulled at her wrist, loosening a band holding
a round thing with black markings. One of those
markings moved steadily.

"When this mark moves from here to here—that
long do we have between alarm and when we use the
weapon."

She slipped the band off, gestured for Furtig to
take it.

Furtig turned now to Gammage. "How long before
the Demon war machines can reach the place of the
trap after they are sighted coming forth?"

The Ancestor bit at claw tip and then went to look
at the blocks which stood for the level ways. "If the
war machines go no faster than rumblers, and if those
we have put in place do hold them back for a
space—" He broke off as Liliha came running lightly
across the chamber. In her hands was a wide dish of
metal and in its center a cone. Furtig recognized it as
what the In-born used to measure time. Gammage
took it and spanned the cone with two claws.

"Light this at your first warning. Let it burn as far
as I have marked it—then give us your signal."

So at both ends there was a small length of time—
time for Foskatt and the scout below—time for him-
self.

"These go with you." Furtig pointed to his messen-
gers. He caught up the covering on the divan, ripped
it apart, and went to a window.

"See, when the scouts' signal comes that they move
out below, and this burns to the line—I shall fire this
with the lightning thrower. It will blaze in the win-
dow, and you, seeing it, can set off your weapon."

He hoped it would work. At least the arrangement
gave him a small chance. The others left, taking the
last of the bundles with them. If Massa was right—
how much of the lairs would be lost? But better lose
all than their lives and have the Demon and Rations
rule.

Furtig went back to the divan and sat down. Now
he must concentrate on the messages. His skin itched
as if small bugs crawled over his body. He licked his
lips, found that now and then his hands jerked. With
all his might he strove to control his body, to think
only of Foskatt and the other scout—think—and
wait.

It had been two days since the Demons had agreed
to aid them. What had the Rations and the other
Demon been doing all that time? Putting machines to
work—? All the pictures the hidden scout had taken
were essentially the same. Apparently some machines
had been discarded—others chosen—

How much longer—a night, another day? The
longer the better as far as the rest of the People and
their allies were concerned. They would be on the
move away, back from this whole section of lair which
was now a trap. Only the Demons and the war leaders
would stay with the power broadcaster.

Periodically Furtig contacted the scouts. Each time
the report was the same—no sign of any attack.
Night came. Furtig ate and drank, walked up and
down to keep mind and body alert.

He had returned to the divan when the long await-
ed signal came—from Foskatt.

Instantly Furtig ordered the other scout to with-
draw, then touched the cone on the plate with a drop
of liquid. There was a burst of blue flame, followed by
a steady burning.

Furtig drew the lightning weapon, hurried to the
doorway, his attention divided between the cone and
the bundle of stuff in the window.

Longer than he had thought! Had he mistaken the
markings Gammage had made on the cone? He held
the dish—no, there was the line clear to be seen. Now
he looked at that other measure which Ayana had
given him, ready to depend upon it when the dish
light marked the time.

Now!

Furtig hurled the dish from him, aimed at the bun-
dle in the window, pressed the firing button. A long
shaft of lightning crossed the chamber. His aim had
been good, striking full upon the bundle. There was
flame there which certainly the watchers in the next
building could not mistake.

He was already through the door, running at top
pace down the corridor, coming out on one of the
bridges lacing building to building. And he kept on,
intent only on trying to put distance between him
and the place he had just quitted. Another corridor,
one of those shafts for descent. Not daring to wonder
if it worked, Furtig leaped into it as he might into a
pool of water.

Then he floated down, his heart pounding. The
tremor came. And that almost caused his death, for
the soft pressure which supported him failed. It was
only that it strengthened again for a moment that
saved him, gave him a chance to catch at a level open-
ing.

He was swinging by his hands and somehow scram-
bled up and through. There came another tremor. The
building about him shook. Furtig ran, wanting only to
gain the open. The rest of his flight was a nightmare.
He kept picturing the whole of the lairs about to
crash down on him.

Only when he reached the open did he turn to look
back. There was a change. It took him several half-
dazed moments to realize that the outline of at least
one tower against the sky was now missing. All the
buildings were now.dark, no lights showing.

Liliha, Gammage, the Demons, the party who had
remained to set off the trap—Furtig, his panic gone, turned around. He dared not
trust the interior of the lairs now. In fact the convic-
tion was growing in him that, knowledge or no knowl-
edge, he was through with the lairs. But he must
know if the others had escaped. And Foskatt—under-
ground—

He could not search the lairs— Why had he not
thought straight? Furtig hunkered down on the
ground, began to use his own talent.

Liliha! It was like looking into her face and she—
she felt his questioning—understood! Foskatt— Fur-
tig began again—but perhaps they were too far sepa-
rated. He hoped that was the answer when he could
not raise the other.

Morning came and they stood on the edge of the site
where the sky-ship pointed up and out. Foskatt and
the other scout were still missing. They were all there
but one—and without that one—

"He was very old." Ayana's eyes held a tiredness in
them as if she needed to rest a long, long time. "And
he was weaker than he let you know. He must have
been. When the explosion came"—she raised her
hand and let it fall with a small fluttering gesture as if
she tried their sign language—"then he went."

Gammage, the Ancestor, the one who had always
been—a living legend. A world without Gammage?
But now Ayana spoke again.

"In a way he was wrong. He wanted you to be
stronger, more intelligent with every generation. He
wanted you to, as he thought, be like us. So he sought
out our knowledge for you. He did it, wanting the best
for his people. But in a way he gave them the worst.
He wanted you to have all we once had but that was
not the answer. You know what happened here to us.
Our knowledge killed, or drove us out.

"You have your ways, learn through them. It will
be slower, longer, harder, but do it. Do not try to
change what lies about you; learn to live within its
pattern, be a true part of it. I do not know if you un-
derstand me. But do not follow us into the same er-
rors.

"One thing Gammage did for you which is right
and which you must save more than you save any-
thing you have taken from the lairs: He taught you
that against a common enemy you can speak with
Barkers under a truce flag, gather and unite tribes
and clans. Remember that above all else, for if he had
only done that much, Gammage would be the greatest
of your race.

"But do not try to live as we. Learn by your own
mistakes, not ours. This world is now yours."

"And the Demons?" Dolor growled into the inter-
preter. He moved very slowly, as if with Gammage's
death some of the other's great age had also settled
upon him.

"We shall not come again. This is no longer our
world. We have found in the lairs the knowledge
which will perhaps save us on our new home. And our
people will accept that, after hearing what we have to
say. Or if they do not accept—" She looked over their
heads to the lairs. "Be sure in my promise—we shall
not come again!"

Even, she thought, if we have to—to make sure
that the ship does not return to Elhorn. This promise
must be kept. She did not look back to the People as
she drew herself wearily up the ramp. If matters had
been different, if the old madness had not gripped
them— Tan—resolutely she closed her mind to
that. But if the madness had not struck in the begin-
ning perhaps the People would not have existed ei-
ther. Did ill balance good somehow? Now she was too
tired, too drained to think.

Those on the field scattered back to the lairs. There
were warriors questing about the ruins, hunting signs
of Rattona, but so far none had been sighted. They
had, though, brought back a dazed Foskatt, who had
been struck on the head and was now closely tended
by Eu-La. The other scout was still being sought.

Furtig and Liliha stood together, watching fire
sprout around the sky-ship. They hid their eyes then
against the glare as it rose, pointing out. The Demon
had promised—no return.

But the other things she had said—that Gammage
had been wrong, that they must find their own kind of
knowledge— How much of that was truth? They
would have time now to discover.

"They have gone," Liliha said. "To the stars—
where someday, warrior, we shall follow. But before
then, there is much to be done—even if we are no
longer Gammage's people."

He would follow her willingly, even back into the
lairs. Furtig had a feeling that henceforth wherever
Liliha light-footedly trod he would follow. No—not
follow—for she was waiting for him to walk beside
her. He purred softly, and his tail tip curved up in
warm content.