“It was here,” he said. “It was here that they turned back. From now on we must go carefully, disturbing the ground as little as possible and picking up every piece of fern.”

  They had gone on for more than an hour, passing many intersections, before Herd stopped again. “I think we are safe now, at least for a time. Let us stop here for a little.”

  They rested then and listened while Herd Eld told a strange tale of stalking the warlike Nekom—as the Nekom, themselves, stalked something or someone that was moving through the tunnels ahead of them. As he talked, Herd began to smile.

  “It did not seem amusing at the time,” he said. “I was far too frightened to find it so. But when I picture it now—myself, creeping silently, with darkened lantern after a large group of Nekom, who were creeping silently after a quarry who seemed to be just ahead. Now and then Befal would give a signal—he alone was carrying a lighted lantern—and the Nekom would stop and listen; and then I could hear it, too. Something else was moving through the tunnels not far beyond.

  “Then Befal decided it was time to charge. Suddenly the Nekom rushed forward into the darkness, and in a moment I heard screams of fright and the sounds of struggle. I arrived outside the ring of light from Befal’s lantern in time to see the stately Bruha release herself from the grasp of several Nekom and pronounce an awesome litany of curses on all Nekom, and on Axon Befal in particular.” Herd’s smile grew broader. “The Nekom had been following a half-dozen Hax-dok, led by Bruha, herself.”

  “But how—?” Kanna said.

  “Who knows. Perhaps the same enterprising bronze worker who led the Nekom to the tunnel earlier sold his services to the Hax-dok. Bruha had planned, no doubt, to witness the ritual by which our Ol-zhaan made possible our escape through the Root; and, having thus learned the secrets, she would return to Erda in triumph—where she would repeat the miracle—waiting, no doubt, only long enough for the Erdlings to offer her an appropriate amount of honor and power, in exchange for her magical services.

  “At any rate, they argued mightily for some time—Bruha and Befal—shouting accusations; but at last Befal offered to allow the two Ol-zhaan to live long enough, after their capture, to teach Bruha their rituals. It was then that I began to put my plan into action.

  “I retreated a little way down the tunnel, lit my lantern and turned it very low. Drawing their attention by crying out as though in fright, I turned and ran. They came after me in a thundering herd, perhaps twenty Nekom and five or six Hax-dok. I turned at the first intersecting tunnel and ran up it until I passed a mass of grundroot protruding from the tunnel wall. A few yards farther on I smashed my lantern, as though it had been dropped in flight, and then I ran back and crouched against the root.

  “They thundered past, stopping for a moment, to examine the lantern, and then running on at top speed. And then I crept back to where you were waiting.”

  Herd laughed then, unrestrainedly, and the others joined him, forgetting for the moment the trials and dangers that still lay ahead. For at least the tunnel before them was clear; the fern lay undisturbed marking the way; and somewhere ahead lay the secret opening and the forest of Green-sky.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “HOW MANY DAYS HAS it been?” Teera asked.

  “Five, I think, or six,” Pomma told her. “I’m not sure anymore. It seems like forever and—” She stopped, noticing that Teera was, once more, close to tears. It still frightened her to see Teera cry, even though she had long since learned that the weeping did not last for long and seemed to do Teera no lasting harm. In fact, she sometimes seemed to be the better for it.

  There had been times, in the last few days, when Pomma had even thought of trying it herself. Of throwing herself on the floor in a frenzy of sobs and gasps and flooding tears—just to see what it would feel like. In fact, she had tried, allowing herself to think of her parents and their grief and of her own growing fear that she and Teera were to be imprisoned for the rest of their lives. But although she could sometimes feel her eyes grow hot and wet, the first loud sob usually shocked her into silence. She had been too well trained in Joy.

  Now, running to Teera, she threw her arms around her and held her close, comforting her with Spirit and with touch. “They will let us go soon,” she whispered. “Raamo won’t let them keep us here much longer.”

  Before Teera could answer, there was the sound of footsteps just outside the door, and the Kindar serving man, Pino, entered, carrying a tray with food and drink. Pomma sighed with relief. Now Teera would not cry, at least not for a while. The coming of the time for food-taking was still a great comfort to Teera.

  “And what games have you been playing today?” Pino asked, as he placed the tray on the tendril table and removed the plates of sliced pan-fruit and nutcake, bowls of spiced mushrooms and goblets of honeyed fruit juices.

  “No games,” Pomma said.” We haven’t played any games today. We haven’t felt like playing.”

  Pino D’erl returned to the heavy, tightly woven tendril door, but he did not open it, at least, not at once. Instead he waited, leaning against the door frame, and watched the children. They were eating now, two small girl children, one pale-haired and so delicately made as to seem half bird or butterfly. The other, more sturdily built with thick dark hair and a face that seemed to glow with rich, dark colors.

  They were beautiful, Pino thought, but then many children were beautiful. But these two were unusual in other ways.

  There was the fact, of course, that they had been brought here secretly by the master, D’ol Regle, and that their presence was not to be spoken of. The master had made that very clear. Pino was not to speak to anyone of the children—at any time—for any reason. And Pino had spoken to no one, just as he had promised.

  Every day he had prepared their food just as he had been told to do; and sometimes he had stood outside the door and watched them for a time before he entered. He had stood there and watched them playing; and it was then that he knew that they were very, very unusual.

  Watching them, there had been times when his breath forgot to come and go for amazement, and his heart pounded as it did when he dreamed of being chased by the Pash-shan.

  He would have been very glad to discuss them with someone who might be able to explain, and thus relieve his fear that he had lost his wits or that his eyes no longer saw things truly. But he had promised, so he spoke to no one, not even to D’ol Regle himself.

  Thus musing, Pino leaned in the doorway until suddenly one of the children, the dark one, noticed him and raised a hand in his direction. Perhaps it was only the start of a greeting, but Pino was frightened; and before the small hand could point directly at him, he slipped away. Closing the door behind him, he slid the heavy bars into place and hurried on about his business.

  If the days since the abduction had seemed long and painful to Teera and Pomma, they had seemed at least as long to Raamo and D’ol Falla. Burdened with the knowledge of the children’s captivity and uncertain about the return of Genaa and Neric—and still undecided concerning what should be done in the face of the threat made by D’ol Regle and the Geets-kel—they lived each hour in increasing anxiety.

  Each day Raamo continued to follow the schedule of the novice Ol-zhaan, attending an endless series of classes and ceremonies. The early hours of each morning still found him in the palace of the Vine-priest, and now he also came again in the evening. Each night after the food-taking in the Hall of Novices had been completed, he returned to wait and watch for the arrival of Neric and Genaa with the Verban, Hiro D’anhk. Before his departure, Neric had said that, on their return, they would approach the Temple Grove through the outer forest and wait in the outskirts of the grove until rain and darkness made it possible for them to reach the Vine Palace without being seen. So Raamo returned, every evening to wait with D’ol Falla until the mid-hours of the night; and while they waited, they spoke of the future and what it might bring.

  They spoke of what Neric and Genaa might decide when they heard of the threat, and of what solutions might be offered. They spoke with hope of Hiro D’anhk, and of how, during his days as director of the Academy, he had been noted for his wisdom. And more and more often, D’ol Falla spoke of her own hope that Raamo would find an answer in foretelling.

  In the days since the kidnapping of the children, D’ol Falla had spent many hours in the chamber of the Forgotten among the ancient books and records. There she had carefully noted every mention made of the Spirit-gift of foretelling. The references were few and brief, since the gift of foretelling had been rare, even in the early days. The greatest among the foretellers had never established and recorded a prescribed ritual, as had many who were gifted in other ways. But what little was recorded, D’ol Falla carefully copied and then repeated to Raamo during the long hours of their vigil.

  Under the guidance of D’ol Falla, Raamo fasted and spent long hours in meditation. He learned the ancient chants attributed to the foretellers of the past. But all with little result.

  It was on the seventh night after the taking of the children that D’ol Falla, once more, began to speak to Raamo concerning her hope for a foretelling.

  “But I have felt so certain that you have the gift,” D’ol Falla told Raamo. “And you have said, yourself, that you foresaw the healing of your sister. You saw that she would be cured when a robed figure with small dark hands reached out to her. And then after the coming of the child, Teera, who is small and dark, the foretelling came true. Surely there is a chance that you could summon the Spirit-force once more, when Pomma is again in great danger. Surely you can find the answer.”

  Raamo smiled sadly. “The answer,” he said. “What is the answer?” Covering his face with his hands, he began to sway to and fro, and after a moment D’ol Falla could hear that he was humming softly to himself.

  D’ol Falla sighed and fell into a deep silence, and it was into that silence that the sound came—the sound of many footsteps in the darkened entryway. Shadowy figures crossed the dimly lit reception hall, and a moment later the soft rays of the honey lamp fell on their faces. It was Neric and Genaa and the exiled Hiro D’anhk. Behind them came two strangers, a man and a woman dressed in the close-fitting fur garments of Erda. The waiting was over. The travelers had returned.

  The Joy of reunion, of adventurers safely home from a dangerous and unprecedented journey, was great—but very brief. There was the truth to be told. The terrible truth of the children stolen and held hostage, and the threats of D’ol Regle and the Geets-kel. Most painful of all was the telling of Herd and Kanna Eld, who had faced the dangers of the journey in good spirits, strengthened by their hope of an early reunion with their child. They came only to learn that she was held captive, and lay under threat of death. The telling had to be repeated many times and in many different ways before the Elds were able to grasp and understand its awful meaning.

  At last Herd Eld said, “You tell us, then, that this D’ol Regle, this Geets-kel, has in his possession a weapon capable of causing the deaths of many people in an instant, and that he has said that he would take the lives of Teera and the sister of Raamo if we set about the freeing of the Erdlings, or if we even so much as tell the Kindar the truth concerning what lies below the Root and the true nature of the Pash-shan?”

  “Yes,” Raamo said. “It is unbelievable to me, even now, but it is true.”

  Turning abruptly, Herd walked away into the shadows, and Kanna followed. It was many minutes before they returned. When they, at last, came back into the lamp light, the dusky gold of their Erdling skin seemed to have paled and grayed, and their eyes were wet with tears. It was Kanna who spoke first.

  “We have spoken together of this thing, and we have come to a decision. We cannot save Teera at the expense of all the people of Erda. The Erdlings are starving, and we were sent here as their representatives. We have no right to barter away the lives of hundreds to save the life of one. Even though the one is of our own flesh.”

  It was D’ol Falla who spoke at last, after the long silence that followed the words of Kanna. “Truly, the Erdlings are well represented in Green-sky,” she said. “But you must know that your sacrifice may be for nothing. If D’ol Regle is capable of killing the two children to save the power of the Ol-zhaan, he is surely capable of killing all those who oppose him. And in the tool of violence, he undoubtedly has the means to do it. I have never seen it used, but I have read descriptions of its terrible effects. It was once used to kill multitudes, and there are in all Green-sky only we seven and the two children who know the truth. And if we die, the truth dies with us.”

  It was Hiro D’anhk who spoke next. “It seems difficult, almost impossible, to believe that there are many, even among the Geets-kel, who would agree to such evil. In the days when I lived in Orbora as director of the Academy, I often worked with the Ol-zhaan. Can you tell me, D’ol Falla, which Ol-zhaan are among the Geets-kel?”

  “There are sixteen, besides myself. Among them are D’ol Wassou, D’ol Birta, D’ol Fanta, D’ol Praavo, D’ol Vesle—”

  When the sixteen were named, Hiro shook his head slowly. “I have known nearly all of them well. They were not all as wise and noble as we were taught to believe, but they were—human, and for the most part, I think, well meaning. I cannot believe that they would agree to this—to this atrocity. If we should go to them; if we appear before this Council of the Geets-kel, to which D’ol Regle has summoned us, and if we tell them about the plight of the Erdlings; if they see Kanna and Herd and Teera, standing before them as fellow beings and not as dim and threatening shadows, surely they will see that the Kindar must be told the truth and the Erdlings freed, whatever the changes and dangers that may follow.”

  “I don’t know,” D’ol Falla said. “I have asked myself that question over and over, and at times my answer has been the same as yours—that when the time came, and the decision had to be made, finally and irrevocably, that the Geets-kel could not bring themselves to choose such evil. But at other times I am not sure. I have read many of the ancient histories of the days before the Flight, and in that reading I have learned that is almost easier for humans to give up their own lives, and those of their children, than to willingly relinquish privilege and power. I truly cannot say what they will do.”

  “Perhaps it would be best not to wait to find out,” Genaa said. “I know that you, D’ol Falla and Raamo, have promised that you would do nothing until you have appeared before the Geets-kel, but Neric and I have not promised. Nor have my father and the Elds. If we should go now to the city and seek out the leaders of the Kindar, the grandmasters and the learned men of the Academy, and tell them, the truth will spread so quickly that D’ol Regle will not be able to kill all who know it. I know that it would be far better and safer if the Kindar could be prepared more gradually, but it seems now that they must learn at once, or not at all.”

  “I agree,” Neric said quickly. He turned to Hiro and the Elds for their approval, but even as he did so, he was already in motion towards the entryway.

  “Wait, Neric,” Raamo spoke urgently. “You will not be able to reach the city.”

  “What do you mean?” Neric asked.

  “They are watching. For several nights now when I have come to the palace to wait with D’ol Falla, I have seen them.” Turning to D’ol Falla he said, “I did not tell you because there was nothing we could do, and I did not want to burden you further. But I am quite certain. They wait and watch from the branch ends and Vine clusters around the palace.”

  “But who? Who are they?”

  “I’m not sure. I have not seen their faces. I think that they may be Kindar in the service of D’ol Regle. Or they may be Geets-kel.”

  The stunned silence lasted only a moment. Then Neric spoke. “How many of them are there? There are six of us here who are strong enough to—”

  He stopped there. His face was flushed and twisted with a wild excitement, and his eyes were fixed and rimmed with white. His glance burned across the faces around him. Striding past them, he approached a pedestal that supported a carving of a paraso bird in flight. Seizing the carving, he swung it from side to side with great force, then tossing it aside he grasped the pedestal itself. Holding it before him with both hands, he returned to the others.

  “Will you come with me?” he said, and it seemed to Raamo that it was not Neric’s voice that spoke. And though they stood face to face, staring into each other’s eyes, Raamo could awaken not the slightest echo of Spirit-force.

  Putting his hands over the fists on the pedestal, Raamo said, “I will go with you but not like this. I will go with you only if you go with open hands.”

  Neric frowned and raised the pedestal higher above his head, pulling free from Raamo’s grasp.

  “Stand aside,” Neric said, but Raamo continued to stand before him. The heavy pedestal jerked up and back, and D’ol Falla cried out sharply.

  At that moment the sound of trampling feet came from the entryway, and three figures moved swiftly forward across the huge chamber. Two of the three wore hooded shubas, and in the dim light it was not possible to distinguish their features, but the third’s large and ponderous shape was unmistakably that of the novice-master. As he came closer it was possible to see the familiar face, full and hearty and unchanged in shape and line, but somehow strangely altered—as if a hardening had set in, turning the living tissues into a stony mask. And before him, grasped in both his hands, there was a heavy triangular object with a wide blunt snout.

  “The Geets-kel are waiting,” D’ol Regle said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  DEEP IN THE LEAF-GROWN far-heights of the Temple Grove, the secret meeting chamber of the Geets-kel hung suspended amid clustering grundleaf and heavy screens of Vine. A long narrow table ran down its length to end at a raised platform, on which stood another smaller table. Seated around the long, lower table, the Geets-kel were, as D’ol Regle had said, waiting.