The Iron Breed (37 page)

“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 not 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. Something 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 objects.

“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 appeared 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 explanation 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!”

7

When Furtig glanced around Foskatt was not watching him, but staring at the cave scene as if he, too, found it astounding. Then Foskatt's hand shot out, his fingers tightened about Furtig's arm.

“Think,” was his order. “Think of some particular 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 remembered. 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 stupid.

“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 swinging, 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 perhaps 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 younglings 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 familiar with the disks. But what does matter is that you could do this. Do you not see? If we can learn your secret, such boxes as these will keep us in contact with one another though we are apart. What would scouts not do to have such devices!”

What it would mean as an aid in hunting was immediately 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, brother,” 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 particular 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 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 forever. 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 direction 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 focused 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 companion's heels in his eagerness to get to the solid security of the building ahead.

This time their way was not invisibly walled; instead 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 offered 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 fled 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 even from a litter brother. No, we differed inside. Some were closer to the old Ancestors who were born for generations here in the lairs, whom the Demons 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 knowledge 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 hidden 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 healing”—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 mainly so that we can stand firm and safe when the Demons 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 thicknesses 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.