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  “Farseer, there is darkness in the heart of your kind, in Oddlings, perhaps in all living things if we knew how to measure or discover it. The Vanished Ones were not all masters of the Light. They may well have had their Voltrik, their Orogastus. At least the war legend hints so—although the name by which that evil was known has not come to us.

  “Even as the Nyssomu and the Uisgu were lifted up by the Light to be thinking creatures of life and hope, so it is said that the Skritek were formed to do the work of evil, and were left masterless at the end to be ever a plague for our land.”

  “Yet there was that one who spoke to me—though I did not see the Speaker clearly.” Kadiya dared now the most compelling question. “I have heard that there is an essence in all beings which is loosed by the death of the body. Was it such an essence that I met here? Or can it be that Binah was not the only Guardian who remained? Jagun, I must know!”

  She thought regretfully of wasted time. Haramis had always sought out the old books and records of the Citadel, but from early childhood Kadiya had been impatient of such things. The need for action was strong in her; even now it made her shift uneasily as she bit into her ration. She thought of the garden beyond. There was food in plenty there, fruit far better than this which was like ashes on her tongue.

  The Oddling had not answered. In herself she knew what must be done—in the morning she must go searching for more than food. Many things had been discovered in the time-devoured ruins already explored by Nyssomu and Uisgu. What might have lingered undisturbed here in a place where exploration had been forbidden?

  Choking down the last crumb, the girl reached for the grub rod.

  “Give me the use of this for a space, Hunter. I wish to know what manner of lodging we have chosen this night.”

  He nodded but made no move to join her as she crossed to carry the light to the nearest wall. Yes, she had not been mistaken; in spite of the gloom, she had sighted something here. Now she held the tube closely to the stone, moving it slowly.

  There were paintings on those walls—mostly of flowers, but here and there of some fanciful creature—so time-dimmed as to be hardly visible. It was oddly conceived: she might be looking out from a window into the garden. Flowers and fruit on the same branch, and, in the air above them, flying things of slightly more brilliant hues which appeared to leap out of the stone when even the very soft grub light touched them.

  As she moved along Kadiya saw intricate detailing which invited further study. But nowhere was there any representation of a living creature save those flyers. The artist or artists who had worked here left no portraits of themselves or of those who might have commissioned such scenes.

  Kadiya reached the corner and turned to view the second wall. Halfway along that was an opening and here the floral patterns gave way to curves, broken lines—writing? She thought there was a suggestion of such, but she had no key to unlock it. Some of those lines she traced with a finger, as if by touch she could solve their mysteries.

  Then another dark doorway was before her. She swung the tube into the gap. The glimmer was too faint to show what lay beyond. Perhaps in another place she would have disliked the fact that the opening held no barrier which could be closed. Here she had not the slightest feeling of uneasiness, though she did not go through.

  There was another section of writing and then a second corner faced her. This wall was the one in which the entrance to the outer world was set. Again there were pictures, but not of a garden in rich growth. Rather she was looking upon water. It did not have the dark dullness of a swamp lakelet, nor the yellow traces of a river, nor was it the mirror pool. No, this was painted a glistening silver-blue, and far out from a bit of shore indicated at the bottom of the wall was a shadow of what might be an island.

  No boat troubled the surface of that clear water, though the curl of waves was indicated and Kadiya was sure it was no mere pool. Could this be a scene of that famed lake-sea which had once been?

  The fourth wall was in contrast to the other three. What the glimmer picked out there brought an exclamation from her. Seeming ready to step down from that surface into the room was a row of strange creatures.

  “Jagun!” Kadiya summoned the hunter who had been unrolling their sleep mats, playing no part in her explorations. “Jagun, what are these?”

  He padded across the floor to join her and Kadiya moved the light tube as close to the painting as she could.

  “These … I have never seen such before.”

  “I do not know, Farseer.”

  Was she overreacting or had she heard a trace of sullenness, even evasion in that?

  “There may have been many things here in the old days which are unknown in the here and now.” He wheeled and went back to his preparations for the night.

  The pictured figures stood on their hind legs in a human-like position, and they had upper appendages which resembled arms, save that the “hands” were collections of formidable claws. Their bodies followed the general outline of a warrior’s shield, wide at the top—shoulder level—tapering down to a much narrower space between their legs. The heads were set upon those wide shoulders as if they lacked necks. The shield-shaped bodies were serrated across the forepart into plates, each of which appeared to be, in turn, formed of small scales. The skillfully used color of the wall painting gave a gloss still to some parts of those bodies, an iridescent sheen such as Kadiya had seen on the wing cases of insects. They were a greenish blue even to their heads which were shaped very much like a drop of water about to fall from the lip of a jug—the wider part dividing two very large ears set well apart on either side of the upper skull, the narrower portion forming a snout. The eyes were small but the artist had somehow set into them a gleam of red which now caught the grub light and gave startling life to the whole countenance.

  Strange indeed, yet there was nothing alarming about them. Their claw hands were spread wide open before them as if they reached for an offering gladly given, or else ready to greet a friend. There was something wistfully appealing about them.

  Tentatively Kadiya touched the forehead of one of the group, more than half expecting she might feel a texture other than stone. But that came from the skill of the artist; they were but paintings.

  “Farseer!” Jagun’s summons was peremptory. “It is time to rest—not to go gazing at walls.”

  Again the girl felt that it was that wall and what had been painted there which made him uneasy. Because of that half-suspicion she longed to know more. However, he was right: fatigue made her body heavy. She rubbed her hand across her forehead—that dull ache she always felt when she had driven herself too long nagged at her. Kadiya went back to the place close to the door where Jagun had chosen to set up camp.

  This time there was no drone or rattle of rain, no seepage of storm to turn discomfort into real misery. Kadiya placed the tube between their two sleeping mats. This was the end of the trail—at least the trail she had seen in her mind until this night. The pressure which had urged her away from the Citadel was gone. Still, as sleep overtook her, the last thing in her mind was the memory of the sword she had left defiantly wedged in ground reluctant to receive it.

  Kadiya awoke suddenly as she had often done during the past days while they threaded a swamp concealing enemies. She was aware of some change; her trail-heightened senses had alerted her from sleep.

  Through slitted eyes she viewed her surroundings. The glow rod had nearly finished its light—the grubs were going into hibernation having been so long removed from nourishment. But she could still see Jagun, and the hunter had not moved.

  Now Kadiya called upon hearing. There was a silence in this place which was deadening, divorced from all the night sounds of the outer world. She could pick up the quiet hiss of her companion’s breathing—nothing else. But the girl was sure there had been something to waken her.

  Their earlier talk of an essence which might linger behind the dwellers who had once been—?

  There was cer
tainly no hint of Skritek stench, though she was well aware those killers could move with noiseless stealth when they wished. No. Her body still inert now Kadiya strove to adjust to another form of seeking.

  Yes!

  She sat up abruptly, thrusting aside the edge of the sleeping mat. It was there! Like a horn call to action! Yet she did not reach for the armor she had discarded—though she did buckle on the belt with the empty sword sheath, the dagger still pendant.

  Emerging with caution from the building, she looked across the pool to those pale gleams which marked the statue Guardians of the stairs. Slowly Kadiya moved toward them, a struggle between hard-learned caution and eagerness in her. The inborn desire for action won.

  Up those stairs she went, halting on each to view, right and left, the motionless sentinels. Somehow their features were clearly visible in spite of the gloom—as if there was life buried within.

  Kadiya stood at last among the columns looking back across the pool and the city of vine-smothered buildings beyond. Light!

  From old conditioning her hand swept instantly to dagger hilt. Certainly there—to her right—she had seen a flicker of light!

  The radiance of that half-misted figure she had met here? Impossible—yet …

  3

  There would be no party of Nyssomu or Uisgu here. The Oddlings might explore other ruins for the “treasure” which could be traded in their market at Trevista—but not the remains of a city Oath-forbidden. Nor in the aftermath of a war which had pulled all the swamplands into action would there be at this early date hunting parties such as were sometimes employed by the more venturesome of her own people.

  The war! Those of Labornok who had drenched the land with blood had even dared to invade the swamps. Their General Hamil had won almost to this city. Could there have been stragglers from that force, driven and harassed by Oddlings, threatened by the very nature of the country they did not understand, cut off here?

  Or someone—something—else? Kadiya still clung to the memory of that veiled presence.

  The night was going now—she could see more as she studied the city spread out from this viewpoint. If there were others here then it was best that she learn what she could of them, and as quickly as possible.

  Kadiya sped down the steps, located a cross street leading in the right direction. As she entered that side way the caution she had learned through the past months curbed her first rush.

  Slacking pace she looked for cover ahead.

  Here the buildings were set flush with the street and even the growth of vine curtain, so profuse elsewhere, was strictly limited. She did not follow a straight path. Instead she wove from street to alleyway, down that narrow strip, to street again, always hoping she was heading in the right direction.

  The heavy mist which took the place of storm-driven rain within these walls thickened and curled, slowing her even more. Every few strides Kadiya paused with her back to the nearest wall and studied the way before her, paying close attention to any rags of fog which might conceal movement.

  Luckily her sodden swamp boots made no sound on the pavement and she continued to use hunters’ caution, all she had learned from Jagun, a master of such craft.

  Another way here, even more narrow. It was so walled by buildings that its length was twilight dark. Neither wall along it showed any break of window or door. But about two thirds of the way along a loop of vine twisted down two stories. It had almost the look of a noose trap, save it was in no way concealed. The girl approached it one step at a time, listening—and also striving to enlist that other sense of which she was not entirely sure.

  During the time she had worn the sword talisman she had always been aware of a warning. However, that weapon was no longer at her command. The Oddlings possessed senses of their own as danger alerts. Those worked well in the swamp mires. But within a city? These walls and buildings were alien—even to she who had been born and bred in the Citadel, also a remainder of the far past.

  On impulse Kadiya closed her eyes, strove to quest outward with thought. She had done so once with some success as a guard against the presence of the Dark. Could it serve in another way?

  Answer came as light as a brush of soft feathers against her skin, save that passage was from within, not without her body. Kadiya’s breath hissed—she had hardly expected an answer—but there was no time to muse on what had happened, to question or examine. Instead she strove to hold to the feeling as if she might fasten, by some turn of a wrist, a hook within the jaw of a fish. Not that she wished to draw that feeling near her. No, rather to guide herself toward its source.

  Pushing away from the wall Kadiya opened her eyes—only to learn that her intent hold on that elusive guide had brought her shaving-close to disaster. For the vine noose uncoiled in a blur of speed to whip through the air. The girl threw herself backward, stumbled, and went down bruisingly hard on one knee.

  A vicious jerk brought a cry as the end of that lash tangled and then swiftly vised a grip on her wild mop of hair. The pain was intense as the vine dragged her forward. Kadiya felt as if her scalp might be torn from her skull.

  She had her dagger out, and—though she could not see much of that which hung from above holding her prisoner and in spite of the agony her efforts caused—she twisted and turned, to stab and cut above her head. At times her blade met resistance.

  Tears of sheer pain wet her cheeks as the thing continued to pull her upward. Now her feet barely touched the pavement as her captor strove to swing her aloft. Before her dropped a second rope-like strand. Kadiya sliced at it. Her weapon sank in; the vine, half cut through, recoiled against the stone wall.

  Perhaps this had some effect on the line which kept her prisoner. The upward pull seemed to pause as she sawed furiously at her hair. The keenness of that blade was her salvation, for it sliced through those tautly stretched locks and she landed facedown on the pavement.

  Without trying to regain her feet Kadiya wriggled forward, the flesh of her palms grating painfully on the harsh surface.

  There was a swishing sound from above. She made a last plunge which she hoped would take her out of reach of the thing, skidding across the way until her shoulder struck against the opposite wall.

  A sensation of vicious rage struck like a spear into her mind. But in its way that attack aided her, for it was the anger of a hunter baffled by prey.

  Kadiya pulled herself up against the wall, facing the direction of the menace. The long rope thing lashed the air at her, coming once or twice close enough to fan air against her cheek. Frantically she edged away.

  The aura of hot rage was a new kind of pain. She shook her head from side to side, limp and panting. She was at least beyond the reach of the thing.

  Now she knew an anger in return. She felt betrayed by that feeling of peace which had seemed to enfold her since she had entered the city. Was that part of a trap? Moments ago she had believed that there was no threat from these empty buildings and walls about. Now—

  Breathing hard, she closed her left hand tightly about her amulet as her right held ready the dagger. Then she called upon what small power she had learned she possessed.

  The Dark had its own betraying emanation—just as the Skritek gave forth their foul body odor. She had met the Dark and she would not forget that scent which only an inner sense could know. Yet here and now she could pick up nothing of such a foulness. There was a smell, yes. That she could identify as issuing from a thick ooze dribbling from the cut vine. Sap—or blood?

  In the swamp there were plants which were a danger to all living things. They were not born of evil magic, but their very nature offered peril. Here in the city there was lush growth wherever the ground had been left uncovered to root it. Those vines she had seen elsewhere had wreathed and covered many of the deserted buildings.

  This thing, its one portion still twisting snakewise, could well be of a similar species, rooted on the far side of the wall. However, if it were a hunter—such as those swamp things
she had seen—how did it continue to live here where there appeared to be no other life?

  Kadiya wiped the stickiness from the blade of her dagger by drawing it across her travel-ragged breeches. With her other hand she gingerly explored the aching crown of her head. Several wisps of hair came loose, their roots bloody.

  The flesh on her knees was raw. She was still shaking from her ordeal. Prudence argued that she return to their camp, to seek treatment for her wounds and any knowledge Jagun might supply.

  As she stood there she had kept loose that mind sense. The rage of the attacker still threatened—she could also pick up an undercurrent of pain as if the wound of the injured member fed that hate. However, that feather touch, that which now she identified as a summons, still called.

  There were too many unanswered questions. If she could gain only a few answers, then she must. With the grim intent which had ridden her on her quest for the sword talisman awakened once more in her, Kadiya made her choice to go on.

  The gray light of the day was strong enough now for her to see well ahead. She stepped from the mouth of that alley into another wide open space.

  Though the buildings here were not tall, they were imposing. Their forewalls were not smooth but thickly patterned with deeply incised designs, especially about the doors and windows. There were patches of vegetation from which came the heady perfume of flowers. As Kadiya emerged into the open there came a scurrying and the swift flight of some creature not much larger than her hand. So there was life here.

  She kept well away from all the greenery as she made her way into the middle of the square where there was the basin of a fountain. To her surprise water still played there, arising in feathery plumes from two separate points to meet in the center before beginning a combined descent.

  Kadiya stumbled onto the wide rim about the basin and fell rather than sat on a bench which encircled it. She rested the dagger close enough to be snatched in an instant, then leaned forward to plunge both hands into the water.