THIRTY-ONE

 

 

“Rhalgorn, you are making a great fool of yourself. I intend to remind you of this day many times in the years to come.”

Rhalgorn showed me a crooked grin. “We will see who does the reminding, Aldair.”

“Where do you want this lovely feller?” asked Signar-Haldring. A broad smile crossed his features, for he was enjoying this business immensely. In his big arms he held the limp form of the Metal-Man that Stumbaucius had christened Wall-drop.

“Just there will be fine,” Rhalgorn said coolly. “We will get to him shortly.”

Signar stood back and studied the thing on the floor. “You figure ol’ Wall-drop’ll sing us a tune, Aldair, or maybe do a little dance? Can’t say which would please me most.”

“He will do a great deal more than that,” said Rhalgorn. “He will open that door is what he’ll do.”

“You have absolutely no reason to believe that,” I said. “I have every reason in the world, Aldair. It is simply matter of logic.”

“Stygiann logic?”

“Of course.”

“Well, that explains a great deal.”

“it does, though you say it in jest. I have studied the tin creatures thoroughly, and I have learned a great deal about them.”

“Such as?” asked Thareesh.

“Such as the fact that they do things.”

“Of course they do things,” I said. “We already know that.” He shook his head. “I mean, they do certain things. Sturn 

baucius told you this but you failed to listen. Some carry things. Some know where things are kept. Another does nothing but make sure the little Man-suns are working. Wall-drop, here, opens doors.”

“What?” I stared at him. “You’ve never seen Wall-drop open a door and you never will. He’s broken, Rhalgorn. He doesn’t do anything.”

“He is not broken,” Rhalgorn said flatly.

“He looks broken to me.”

“As you yourself said, he is not doing anything. That is not the same as being broken. The others keep working—or pretend to—because no one told them to stop. Wall-drop stopped because he had nothing to do.”

“Rhalgorn—!”

“The other Metal-Men open doors,” he explained, “but I am not talking about that kind of opening. I have watched them. They will open doors that are unlocked, but they will not bother with the others. I have asked them to, but they will not. Because they don’t know how. Wall-drop does.”

I waited, but he was evidently finished for the moment. “That’s it? This is what you brought us down here for? To listen to some—patchwork Stygiann logic!”

“I brought you down here to open a door,” sniffled Rhalgorn.

“Fine,” I said. “Go ahead, seer of the Lauvectii. We are waiting.”

I think Rhalgorn would have gladly stopped this nonsense then and there. Stygianns are the most arrogant braggarts ever conceived by the Creator, but they would rather die in battle than appear foolish.

Trying hard to look solemn, Signar dutifully followed Rhalgorn’s instructions. He carried Wall-drop to the door and held him straight. Wall-drop’s head sagged. His limp metal feet dragged on the floor. Rhalgorn stood back and studied the situation a moment. Finally, he said, “Now, Wall-drop-open this door for us.”

Wall-drop continued to sag.

“Perhaps he doesn’t know his name,” Thareesh suggested.

“That’s right,” I added. Stumbaucius gave him this name. He probably had another before. Try some different names, Rhalgorn.”

“Aldair,” Corysia said firmly, “just leave him alone.”

“I am only trying to help, Corysia.”

“That is not what you are trying to do.”

“His name has no bearing whatever,” Rhalgorn said darkly. “You—whatever you are called. Open this door at once!”

Signar could contain himself no longer. He gave a loud burst of laughter that shook the room,

Rhalgorn ignored him. “Move the creature up a little closer, please. He is too far away.”

Signar bristled. I ain’t plannin’ on holding this thing all day Rhalgorn.”

“Only a moment more….” He frowned thoughtfully, then a big grin split his muzzle. “Ah, of course. How foolish of me, Creatures do not simply stand before doors. They must touch them before they open!”

“There is no knob on the door to touch,” I pointed out, “you may have noticed this before.”

Rhaigorn wasn’t listening. He grasped the thing’s left hand. and pressed it against the metal.

Wall-drop continued to sag.

“If you will stop this nonsense now,” I said, “we will all promise never to mention it again.”

“I won’t” said Signar.

“Must be he’s right-handed,” said Thareesh.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” said Rhalgorn. With that, he raised the limp right hand of the Metal-Man and held it against the door.

Wall-drop went suddenly rigid. Tiny blue hairs of lightning crackled across his body. Rhalgort and Signar howled. Their fur stood on end. A great invisible club picked them of their feet and tossed them to the floor.

Wall-drop swayed dangerously, then righted himself. His hand moved smoothly over the door, paused, then stopped. He took a shaky step to the left, and tried again. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, before our unbelieving eyes, the door slid aside with a whisper.

“Creator’s Eyes,” said Signar. “I ain’t seein’ this, for certain.”

Rhalgorn picked himself up. “What—what did you expect, fat-fur?” He was trying very hard to hide his own astonishment. “I said it would open and it—opened. I—”

“Shut up, the both of you!” I said, for I was already past them, staring at the sight before me.

 

How can I say what I saw there, and give meaning to the words? It was a vast, open chamber, bound on every side by pale, milky walls that seemed to flee from one another then arc to the heights in quick, sweeping curves that wondrously met again. There were clusters of golden spheres about the surface of the room, each the same as the other, and each more than three meters high. These spheres were grouped in circles of seven, and there were seven circles in all. Not all the circles were complete, for out of forty-nine spheres that would have made the pattern whole, fully a quarter were no longer there. The room, the walls, the golden spheres—all were lit by the chill-cold glare of Man-suns, though I couldn’t guess where even one of these devices might be placed.

Thus, I have described as best I can the room behind the door on the tenth level of Amazon Keep. In truth, I have said next to nothing, for there were things within that place we could neither touch nor see nor scarce imagine.

“I’m frightened, Aldair. I’m frightened out of my wits and I can’t say why.” Corysia pressed herself against me, gripping my hand in hers.

“I feel it,” I said, “it is a thing that is here, and yet is not.” I caught myself near whispering the words, for it was somehow a fearsome thing to speak in that place.

Glancing about, I found Rhalgorn, Signar and Thareesh. They were there beside me, but I could not be sure whether they were real and solid beings or mere shades of themselves. It seemed as if the tiny shards of every moment, day and hour that ever were flew thick about us, like the motes of a dusty summer.

“Time is out of tune here,” Thareesh said later, and I can put it no bettter than that.

Something made me turn at that moment; I caught a quick glimpse of motion from the corner of my eye. Jerking full around I saw the Stygiann, and knew what he was about.

“Rhalgorn!” I yelled, shattering the deadly silence. “Rhalgorn, no! Get away from that!”

He stopped, just short of a golden sphere. There was a curious, bewildered look across his features, as if I’d spoken in some foreign tongue. I moved to his side as quickly as I could, cursing the peculiar nature of the place that turned my boots to lead.

“Don’t touch it,” I warned. “Don’t even get near it, Rhalgorn. Look—” I pointed to the sphere before us. “By all the gods, it’s not even as it seems!”

Indeed, this close the thing was not the solid object it appeared to be, but an elusive circle of silver, pearl and gold spun thin as gauze—a mere shadow of something else we could not fathom. As I watched, it wavered, changed. It was a most pleasurable thing, to gaze at this marvel and know the slow, windless currents of the immeasurable years….

“‘Aldair!”

I blinked, coming suddenly back from nowhere.

“We’ve,—got to get out of here,” said Rhalgorn, “—now!”

“Yes. . ,” I tried to put the words together. “Get—out of here. . .”

Suddenly I was of the ground, slung roughly over his shoulder. Corysia? Where was she? Signar, Thareesh. .?

 

It was over.

I was out of that terrible chamber, my companions by my side. We neither spoke nor glanced at one another until we reached the top of those narrow stairs and left the tenth level of Amazon Keep far behind.