 Part 1 of The People of the Crater by Andre Norton. Reading by Greg Marguerite. The People of the Crater by Andre Norton. Part 1. Send the black throne to dust, conquer the black ones, and bring the daughter from the caves of darkness. These were the tasks Garin must perform to fulfill the prophecy of the ancient ones and establish his own destiny in this hidden land. Chapter 1. Through the Blue Haze. Six months and three days after the peace of Shanghai was signed and the Great War of 1965-1970 declared at an end by an exhausted world, a young man huddled on a park bench in New York, staring miserably at the gravel beneath his badly worn shoes. He had been trained to fill the pilot's seat in the control cabin of a fighting plane and for nothing else. The search for a niche in civilian life had cost him both health and ambition. A newcomer dropped down on the other end of the bench. The flyer studied him bitterly. He had the decent shoes, a warm coat, and that air of satisfaction with the world, which is the result of economic security. Although he was well into middle age, the man had a compact grace of movement and an air of alertness. Aren't you Captain Garin Featherstone? Startled the flyer nodded dumbly. From a plump billfold the man drew a clipping and waved it towards his seat-mate. Two years before Captain Garin Featherstone of the United Democratic Forces had led a perilous bombing raid into the wilds of Siberia to wipe out the vast expeditionary army secretly gathering there. It had been a spectacular affair and had brought the survivors some fleeting fame. You're the sort of chap I've been looking for, the stranger folded the clipping again. A flyer with courage, initiative, and brains. The man who led that raid is worth investing in. What's the proposition? asked Featherstone wearily. He no longer believed in luck. I'm Gregory Farson, the other returned, as if it should answer the question. The Antarctic man? Just so. As you have probably heard, I was halted on the eve of my last expedition by the sudden spread of war to this country. Now I am preparing to sail south again. But I don't see how you can help me. Very simple, Captain Featherstone. I need pilots. Unfortunately the war has disposed of most of them. I'm lucky to contact one such as yourself, and it was as simple as that. But Karen didn't really believe that it was more than a dream until they touched the glacial shores of the polar continent some months later. As they brought ashore the three large planes he began to wonder at the driving motive behind Farson's vague plans. When the supply ship sailed, not to return for a year, Farson called them together. Three of the company were pilots, all war veterans, and two were engineers who spent most of their waking hours engrossed in the maps Farson produced. Tomorrow the leader glanced from face to face. We start inland, here. On a map spread before him he indicated a line marked in purple. Ten years ago I was a member of the Verdane expedition. Once when flying due south our plane was caught by some freakish air current and drawn off its course. When we were totally off our map we saw in the distance a thick bluish haze. It seemed to rise in a straight line from the ice plane to the sky. Unfortunately our fuel was low and we dared not risk a closer investigation. So we fought our way back to the base. Verdane however had little interest in our report and we did not investigate it. Three years ago that caddock expedition hunting oil deposits by the order of the dictator reported seeing the same haze. This time we are going to explore it. Why, Garen asked curiously, are you so eager to penetrate this haze? I gather that's what we're here to do. Farson hesitated before answering. It has often been suggested that beneath the ice sheeting of this continent may be hidden mineral wealth. I believe that the haze is caused by some form of volcanic activity and perhaps a break in the crust. Garen frowned at the map. He wasn't so sure about that explanation but Farson was paying the bills. The flyer shrugged away his uneasiness. Much could be forgiven a man who allowed one to eat regularly again. Four days later they set out. Helmly, one of the engineers, Rawlson, a pilot and Farson occupied the first plane. The other engineer and pilot were in the second and Garen with the extra supplies was alone in the third. He was content to be alone as they took off across the blue-white waist. His ship, because of its load, was loggy, so he did not attempt to follow the other two in the higher lane. They were in communication by radio and Garen, as he snapped on his earphones, remembered something Farson had said that morning. The haze affects radio. On our trip near it the static was very bad, almost with a laugh, like speech in some foreign tongue. As they roared over the ice, Garen wondered if it might have been speech from perhaps a secret enemy expedition such as the Catac one. In his sealed cockpit he did not feel the bite of the frost and the ship rode smoothly. With a little sigh of content he settled back against the cushions keeping to the course set by the planes ahead and above him. Some five hours later they left the base. Garen caught sight of a dark shadow far ahead. At the same time Farson's voice shattered in his earphone. That's it. Set course straight ahead. The shadow grew until it became a wall of purple-blue from earth to sky. The first plane was quite close to it diving down into the vapor. Suddenly the ship rocked violently and swung earthward as if out of control. Then it straightened and turned back. Garen could hear Farson demanding to know what was the matter, but from the first plane there was no reply. As Farson's plane kept going Garen throttled down. The actions of the first ship indicated trouble. What if that haze were a toxic gas? Close-up Featherstone barked Farson suddenly. He obediently drew ahead until they flew wing to wing. The haze was just before them and now Garen could see movement in it, oily, impenetrable billows. The motors bit into it. There was clammy, foggy moisture on the windows. Abruptly Garen sensed that he was no longer alone. Somewhere in the empty cabin behind him was another intelligence, a measuring power. He fought furiously against it, against the very idea of it. But after a long terrifying moment while it seemed to study him it took control. His hands and feet still manipulated the ship, but it flew. On the ship hurtled through the thickening mist. He lost sight of Farson's plane and though he was still fighting against the will which overrode his, his struggles grew weaker. Then came the order to dive into the dark heart of the purple mists. Down they whirled. Once as the haze opened Garen caught a glimpse of tortured grey rock seamed with yellow. Farson had been right. Here the ice crust was broken. Down and down if his instruments were correct the plane was below sea level now. The haze thinned and was gone. Below spread a plane cloaked in vivid green. Here and there reared clumps of what might be trees. He saw too the waters of a yellow stream. But there was something terrifyingly alien about that landscape. Even as he circled above it Garen wrestled to break the grip of the will that had brought him there. There came a crackle of sound in his earphones and at that moment the presence withdrew. The noise of the plane went up in obedience to his own desire. Frantically he climbed away from the green land. Again the haze absorbed him. He watched the moisture bead on the windows. Another hundred feet or so and he would be free of it and that unbelievable world beneath. Then with an ominous sputter the port engine conked out. The plane lurched and slipped into a dive. Down it whirled again into the steady light of the green land. Trees came out of the ground, huge fern-like plants with crimson-scaled trunks. Toward a clump of these the plane swooped. Frantically Garen fought the controls. The ship steadied. The dive became a fast glide. He looked for an open space to land. Then he felt the landing gear scrape some surface. Directly ahead loomed one of the fern trees. The plane sped toward the long fronds. There came a ripping crash, the splintering of metal and wood. The scarlet cloud gathering before Garen's eyes turned black. Chapter 2 The Folk of the Tav Garen returned to consciousness through a red mist of pain. He was pinned in the crumpled mass of metal which had once been the cabin. Through a rent in the wall close to his head thrust a long spike of green, shredded leaves still clinging to it. He lay and watched it, not daring to move lest the pain proved more than he could bear. It was then that he heard the pattering sound outside. It seemed as if soft hands were pushing and pulling at the wreck. The tree branch shook and a portion of the cabin wall dropped away with a clang. Garen turned his head slowly. Through the aperture was clamoring, a goblin figure. It stood about five feet tall and it walked upon its hind legs in human fashion. But the legs were short and stumpy, ending in feet with five toes of equal length. Slender shapely arms possessed small hands with only four digits. The creature had a high, well-rounded forehead but no chin, the face being distinctly lizard-like in contour. The skin was a dull black with a velvety surface. About its loins it were a short kilt of metallic cloth, the garment being supported by a jeweled belt of exquisite workmanship. For a long moment the apparition eyed Garen and it was those golden eyes fixed unwinkingly on his which banished the flyer's fear. There was nothing but great pity in their depths. The lizard-man stooped and brushed the sweat-dampened hair from Garen's forehead. Then he fingered the bonds of metal which held the flyer, as if estimating their strength. Having done so he turned to the opening and apparently gave an order, returning again to squat by Garen. Two more of his kind appeared to tear away the ruins of the cockpit, though they were very careful Garen fainted twice before they had freed him. He was placed on a litter, swung between two clumsy beasts which might have been small elephants except that they lacked trunks and possessed four tusks each. They crossed the plane to the towering mouth of a huge cavern where the litter was taken up by four of the lizardfolk. The flyer lay staring up at the roof of the cavern. In the black stone had been carved fronds and flowers in bewildering profusion. Shining motes giving off faint light sifted through the air. At times they advanced. These gathered in clusters and the light grew brighter. Midway down a long corridor the bearers halted while their litter pulled upon a knob on the wall. An oval door swung back and the party passed through. They came into a round room, the walls of which had been fashioned of creamy quartz veined with violet. At the highest point in the ceiling a large globe of the motes hung, furnishing soft light below. Two lizardmen clad in long robes conferred with the leader of the flyer's party before coming to stand over Garen. One of the robed ones shook his head at the sight of the flyer's twisted body and waved the litter on into an inner chamber. Here the walls were dull blue and in the exact center was a long block of quartz. By this the litter was put down and the bearers disappeared. With sharp knives the robed men cut away furs and leather to expose Garen's broken body. They lifted him to the quartz table and there made him fast with metal bonds. Then one of them went to the wall and pulled a gleaming rod. From the dome of the roof shot an eerie blue light to beat upon Garen's helpless body. There followed a tingling through every muscle and joint, a prickling sensation in his skin. But soon his pain vanished as if it had never been. The light flashed off and the three lizardmen gathered around him. He was wrapped in a soft robe and carried to another room. This too was circular, shaped like the half of a giant bubble. The floor sloped toward the center where there was a depression filled with cushions. There they laid Garen. At the top of the bubble a pinkish cloud formed. He watched it drowsily until he fell asleep. Something warm stirred against his bare shoulder. He opened his eyes for a moment unable to remember where he was. Then there was a plucking at the robe twisted about him and he looked down. If the lizardfolk had been goblin in their grotesqueness this visitor was elfin. It was about three feet high. Its monkey-like body completely covered with silky white hair. The tiny hands were human in shape and hairless, but its feet were much like a cat's paws. From either side of the small round head branched large, fan-shaped ears. The face was furred and boasted stiff cat whiskers on the upper lip. These anas, as Garen learned later, were happy little creatures, each one choosing some mistress or master among the folk, as this one had come to him. They were content to follow their big protector, speechless with delight at trifling gifts, loyal and brave, they could do simple tasks or carry written messages for their chosen friend, and they remained with him until death. They were neither beast nor human, but rumored to be the result of some experiment carried out eons ago by the ancient ones. After patting Garen's shoulder the anna touched the flyer's hair wanderingly, comparing the bronze lengths with its own white fur. Since the folk were hairless, hair was a strange sight in the caverns. With a contented purr it rubbed its head against his hand. With a sudden click a door in the wall opened. The anna got to its feet and ran to greet the newcomers. The chieftain of the folk, he who had first discovered Garen, entered, followed by several of his fellows. The flyer sat up. He was the pain-gone, but he felt stronger and younger than he had for weary months. Exultingly he stretched wide his arms and grinned at the lizard-being who murmured happily in return. Lizard men busied themselves about Garen, girding on him the short-kilt and jewel-set belt which were the only clothing of the caverns. When they were finished the chieftain took his hand and drew him to the door. They traversed a hallway whose walls were carved and inlaid with glittering stones and metalwork, coming at last into a huge cavern, the outer walls of which were hidden by shadows. On a dais stood three tall thrones and Garen was conducted to the foot of these. The highest throne was of rose-crystal. On its right was one of green jade, worn smooth by centuries of time. At the left was a third carved of a single block of jet. The rose-throne and that of jet were unoccupied. But in the seat of jade reposed one of the folk. He was taller than his fellows and in his eyes as he stared at Garen was wisdom and a brooding sadness. It is well, the words resounded in the flyer's head. We have chosen wisely. This youth is fit to mate with the daughter. But he will be tried as fire tries metal. He must win the daughter forth and strive with Kepta. A hissing murmur echoed through the hall. Garen guessed that hundreds of the folk must be gathered there. Erg, the being on the throne commanded. The chieftain moved a step toward the dais. Do you take this youth and instruct him? And then I will speak with him again. For, sadness colored the words now, we would have the rose-throne filled again and the black one blasted into dust. Time moved swiftly. The chieftain led a wondering Garen away. Chapter 3 Garen Hears of the Black Ones Erg brought the flyer into one of the bumble-shaped rooms which contained a low, cushioned bench facing a metal screen, and here they seated themselves. What followed was a language lesson. On the screen appeared objects which Erg would name to have his sibilant utterings repeated by Garen. As the American later learned, the day treatment he had undergone had quickened his mental powers, and in an incredibly short time he had a working vocabulary. Judging by the pictures the lizard folk were the rulers of the crater world, although there were other forms of life there. The elephant-like tanned was a beast of burden. The squirrel-like eran lived underground and carried on a crude agriculture in small clearings coming shyly twice a year to exchange grain for a liquid rubber produced by the folk. Then there was the gibby, a monstrous bee, also friendly to the lizard people. It supplied the cavern dwellers with wax, and in return the folk gave the gibby colonies shelter during the unhealthful times of the great mists. Highly civilized were the folk. They did no work by hand except the finer kinds of jewel-setting and carving. Machines wove their metal cloth. The machines prepared their food, harvested their fields, hollowed out new dwellings. Freed from manual labor they had turned to acquiring knowledge. Urg projected on the screen pictures of vast laboratories and great libraries of scientific lore. But all they knew in the beginning they had learned from the ancient ones, a race unlike themselves which had preceded them in sovereignty over Tav. Even the folk themselves were the result of constant forced evolution of fermentation carried on by these ancient ones. All this wisdom was guarded most carefully, but against what or whom Urg could not tell, although he insisted that the danger was very real. There was something within the blue wall of the crater which disputed the folk's rule. As Garin tried to probe further a gong sounded. Urg rose. It is the hour of eating, he announced. Let us go. They came to a large room where a heavy table of white stone along three walls, benches before it. Urg seated himself and pressed a knob on the table, motioning Garin to do likewise. The wall facing them opened and two trays slid out. There was a platter of hot meat covered with rich sauce, a stone bowl of grain porridge, and a cluster of fruit still fastened to a leafy branch. This the Anna eyed so wistfully that Garin gave it to the creature. The folk ate silently and arose quietly when they had finished. Their trays vanishing back through the wall. Garin noticed only males in the room and recalled that he had as yet seen no females among the folk. He ventured a question. Urg chuckled. So you think there are no women in the caverns? Well, we shall go to the hall of women that you may see. To the hall of women they went. It was breathtaking in its richness. Stones worth a nation's ransom sparkling from its domed roof and painted walls. Here were the matrons and maidens of the folk. Their black forms veiled in robes of silver net, each cross strand of which was set with a tiny gem so that they appeared to be wrapped in glittering scales. There were not many of them, a hundred perhaps, and a few led by the hand smaller editions of themselves who stared at Garin with round yellow eyes and chewed black fingertips shyly. The women were entrusted with the finest jewel work and with pride they showed the stranger their handiwork. At the far end of the hall was a wondrous thing in the making. One of the silver nets which were the foundations of their robes was fastened there and three of the women were putting small rose jewels into each microscopic setting. Here and there they had varied the pattern with tiny emeralds or flaming opals so that the finished portion was a rainbow. One of the workers smoothed the robe and danced up at Garin, a gentle teasing in her voice as she explained, this is for the daughter when she comes to her throne. The daughter, what had the lord of the folk said? This youth is fit to mate with the daughter, but Erg had said that the ancient ones had gone from Tav. Who is the daughter? he demanded. Thralla of the light. Where is she? The woman shivered and there was fear in her eyes. Thralla lies in the caves of darkness. The caves of darkness? Did she mean Thralla was dead? Was he Garin Featherstone to be the victim of some rite of sacrifice which was designed to unite him with the dead? Erg touched his arm. Not so. Thralla has not yet entered the place of ancestors. You know my thoughts? Erg laughed. Thoughts are easy to read. Thralla lives. She served the daughter as handmaiden while she was yet among us. Sir, do you show us Thralla as she was? The woman crossed to a wall where there was a mirror such as Erg had used for his language lesson. She gazed into it and then beckoned the flyer to stand beside her. The mirror missed it and then he was looking as if through a window into a room with walls and ceiling of rose quartz. On the floor were thick rugs of silver rose and a great heap of cushions made a low couch in the center. The inner chamber of the daughter, Sarah announced. A circular panel in the wall opened and a woman slipped through. She was very young, little more than a girl. There were happy curves in her full crimson lips, joyous lights in her violet eyes. She was human of shape but her beauty was unearthly. Her skin was pearl white and other colors seemed to play faintly upon it so that it reminded Garin of Mother of Pearl with its lights and shadows. The hair which veiled her as a cloud was blue-black and reached below her knees. She was robed in the silver net of the folk and there was a heavy girdle of rose-shaded jewels about her slender waist. That was Thralla before the black ones took her, said Sarah. Garin uttered a cry of disappointment as the picture vanished. Erg laughed. What care you for shadows when the daughter herself waits for you? You have but to bring her from the caves of darkness. Where are these caves? Garin's question was interrupted by the peeling of the cavern gong. Sarah cried out, The black ones! Erg shrugged. When they spared not the ancient ones, how would we hope to escape? Come, we must go to the Hall of Thrones. Before the jade throne of the Lord of the Folk stood a small group of the lizardmen beside two litters. As Garin entered, the Lord spoke. Let the Outlander come hither that he may see the work of the black ones. Garin advanced unwillingly, coming to stand by those struggling things which gasped their message between moans and screams of agony. They were men of the folk, but their black skins were green with rot. The Lord leaned forward on his throne. It is well, he said, you may depart. As if obeying his command the tortured things let go of the life they had clung and were still. Look upon the work of the black ones, the ruler said to Garin. Jiv and Bedev were captured while on a mission to the gibby of the cliff. It seems that the black ones needed material for their laboratories. They seek even to give the daughter to their workers of horror. The terrible cry of hatred arose from the Hall and Garin's jaw said, To give that fair vision he had just seen to such a death as this. Jiv and Bedev were imprisoned close to the daughter and they heard the threats of Kepta. Our brothers, stricken with foul disease, were sent forth to carry the plague to us, but they swam through the pool of boiling mud. They have died, but the evil died with them, and I think that while we breed such as they the black ones shall not rest easy. Listen now, Outlander, to the story of the black ones and the caves of darkness, of how the ancient ones brought the folk up from the slime of a long-dried sea and made them great, and of how the ancient ones at last went down to their destruction. Chapter 4 The Defeat of the Ancient Ones In the days before the lands of the outer world were born of the sea, before even the land of the sun, Mu, and the land of the sea, Atlantis, arose from molten rock and sand. There was land here in the far south. A seer land of rock plains and swamps where slimy life made it lived and died. Then came the ancient ones from beyond the stars. Their race was already older than this earth. Their wise men had watched its birth rending from the sun, and when their world perished, taking most of their blood into nothingness, a handful fled hither. But when they climbed from their spaceship it was into hell, for they had gained in place of their loved home bare rock and stinking slime. They blasted out this tavern and entered into it with the treasures of their flying ships and also certain living creatures captured in the swamps. From these they produced the folk, the gibby, the tanned, and the land-tending Iran. Among these the folk were eager for wisdom and climbed high, but still the learning of the ancient ones remained beyond their grasp. During the eons the ancient ones dwelt within their protecting wall of haze the outer world changed. Cold came to the north and south. The land of sun and the land of sea arose to bear the foot of true man. On their mirrors of seeing the ancient ones watched man life spread across the world. They had the power of prolonging life, but still the race was dying. From without must come new blood. So certain men were summoned from the land of the sun. Then the race flourished for a space. The ancient ones decided to leave Tav for the outer world, but the sea swallowed the land of the sun. Again in the time of the land of sea the stock within Tav was replenished and the ancient ones prepared for exodus. Again the sea cheated them. Those men left in the outer world reverted to savagery. Since the ancient ones would not mingle their blood with that of almost beasts, they built the haze wall stronger and remained. But a handful of them were attracted by the forbidden, and secretly they summoned the beast men. Of that monstrous mating came the black ones. They live, but for the evil they may do, and the power which they acquired is debased and used to forward cruelty. At first their sin was not discovered. When it was, the others would have slain the offspring, but for the law which forbids them to kill. They must use their power for good or it departs from them. So they drove the black ones to the southern end of Tav and gave them the caves of darkness. Never were the black ones to come north of the river of gold, nor were the ancient ones to go south of it. For perhaps two thousand years the black ones kept the law. But they worked, building powers of destruction. While matters rested thus, the ancient ones searched the world, seeking men by whom they could renew the race. Once there came men from an island far to the north. Six lived to penetrate the mists and take wives among the daughters. Again they called the yellow-haired men of another breed, great sea rovers. But the black ones called too. As the ancient ones searched for the best, the black ones brought in the great workers of evil. And at last they succeeded in shutting off the channels of sending thought so that the ancient ones could call no more. Then did the black ones cross the river of gold and enter the land of the ancient ones. Thrawn, dweller in the light and lord of the caverns summoned the folk to him. There will come one to aid you, he told us. Try the summoning again after the black ones have seemed to win. Thralla, daughter of the light, will not enter into the room of pleasant death with the rest of the women, but will give herself into the hands of the black ones that they may think themselves truly victorious. You of the folk withdraw into the place of reptiles until the black ones are gone. Nor will all the ancient ones perish. More will be saved, but the manner of their preservation I dare not tell. When the sun-haired youth comes from the outer world, send him into the caves of darkness to rescue Thralla and put an end to evil. And then the lady Thralla arose and said softly, as the Lord Thrawn has said, So let it be. I shall deliver myself into the hands of the black ones that their doom may come upon them. Lord Thrawn smiled upon her as he said, So will happiness be your portion. After the great mists does not light come again? The women of the ancient ones then took their leave and passed into the place of pleasant death, while the men made ready for battle with the black ones. For three days they fought, but a new weapon of the black ones won the day, and the chief of the black ones set up this throne of jet as proof of his power. Since however the black ones were not happy in the caverns, longing for the darkness of their caves, they soon withdrew, and we, the folk, came forth again. But now the time has come when the dark ones will sacrifice the daughter to their evil. If you can win her free, Outlander, they shall perish as if they had not been. What of the ancient ones? asked Garen. Those others, Thrawn, said, would be saved. Of those we know nothing save that when we bore the bodies of the fallen to the place of ancestors there were some missing. That you may see the truth of this story, Urg will take you to the gallery above the room of pleasant death, and you may look upon those who sleep there. Urg, guiding, Garen climbed a steep ramp leading from the Hall of Thrones. This led to a narrow balcony, one side of which was clear crystal. Urg pointed down. They were above a long room whose walls were tinted jade-green. On the polished floor were scattered piles of cushions. Each was occupied by a sleeping woman, and several of these clasped a child in their arms. Their long hair rippled to the floor. Their curved lashes made dark shadows on pale faces. But they are sleeping, protested Garen. Urg shook his head. It is the sleep of death. Twice each ten hours vapors rise from the floor. Those breathing them do not wake again, and if they are undisturbed, they will lie thus for a thousand years. Look there. Urg pointed to the closed double doors of the room. There lay the first men of the ancient ones Garen had seen. They too seemed but asleep, their handsome heads pillowed on their arms. Thrawn ordered those who remained after the last battle in the Hall of Thrones to enter the room of pleasant death, that the black ones might not torture them for their beastly pleasures. Thrawn himself remained behind to close the door, and so died. No, aged among the sleepers. None of the men seemed to count more than thirty years, and many of them appeared younger. Garen remarked upon this. The ancient ones appeared thus until the day of their death, though many lived twice a hundred years. The light rays kept them so. Even we of the folk can hold back age. But come now, our Lord Char would speak with you again. Chapter 5 Into the Caves of Darkness Again Garen stood before the jade throne of Trar, and heard the stirring of the multitude of the folk in the shadows. Trar was turning a small rod of glittering greenish metal around in his soft hands. Listen well, Outlander, he began. For little time remains to us. Within seven days the great mists will be upon us. Then no living thing may venture forth from shelter and escape death. And before that time Thralla must be out of the caves. This rod will be your weapon. The black ones have not its secret. Watch. Two of the folk dragged an ingot of metal before him. He touched it with the rod. Great flakes of rust appeared to spread across the entire surface. It crumpled away, and one of the folk trod upon the pile of dust where it had been. Thralla lies in the heart of the caves, but kept his men have grown careless with the years. Enter boldly, and trust of fortune. They know nothing of your coming or of Thrawn's words concerning you. Erg stood forward and held out his hands in appeal. What would you, Erg? Lord, I would go with the Outlander. He knows nothing of the forest of the morgels or the pool of mud. It is easy to go astray in the woodland. Trar shook his head. That may not be. He must go alone, even as Thrawn said. The Anna, which had followed in Garen's shadow all day, whistled shrilly and stood on tiptoe to tug at his hand. Trar smiled. That one may go. Its eyes may serve you well. Erg will guide you to the outer portal of the place of ancestors and set you upon the road to the caves. Farewell, Outlander, and may the spirits of the ancient ones be with you. Garen bowed to the ruler of the folk and turned to follow Erg. Near the door stood a small group of women. Sarah pressed forward from them, holding out a small bag. Outlander, she said hurriedly, when you look upon the daughter speak to her of Sarah, for I have awaited her many years. He smiled. That I will. If you remember, Outlander, I am a great lady among the folk and have my share of suitors. Yet I think I could envy the daughter. Nay, I shall not explain that. She laughed mockingly. You will understand in due time. Here is a packet of food. Now go swiftly that we may have you among us again before the mists. So a woman's farewell sped them on their way. Erg chose a ramp which led downward. At its foot was a niche in the rock, above which a rose-light burned dimly. Erg reached within the hollow and drew out a pair of high buskins which he aided Garen to lace on. They were a good fit, having been fashioned for a man of the ancient ones. The passage before them was narrow and crooked. There was a thick carpet of dust underfoot patterned by the prince of the folk. They rounded a corner and a tall door loomed out of the gloom. Erg pressed the surface. There was a click and the stone rolled back. This is the place of ancestors he announced as he stepped within. They were at the end of a colossal hall whose domed roof disappeared into shadows. Thick pillars of gleaming crystal divided it into aisles, all leading inward to a raised dais of oval shape. Filling the aisles were couches and each soft nest held its sleeper. Near to the door lay the men and women of the folk, but closer to the dais were the ancient ones. Here and there a couch bore a double burden. Upon the shoulder of a man was pillowed the drooping head of a woman. Erg stopped beside such a one. See, Outlander? Here was one who was called from your world. Marina of the House of Light looked with favor upon him and their days of happiness were many. The man on the couch had red gold hair and on his upper arm was a heavy band of gold whose mate Garen had once seen in a museum. A son of pre-Norman Ireland. Erg traced with a crooked finger the archaic lettering carved upon the stone base of the couch. Lovers in the light sleep sweetly. The light returns on the appointed day. Who lies there? Garen motioned to the dais. The first ancient ones, come, look upon those who made this tab. On the dais the couches were arranged in two rows and between them in the center was a single couch raised above the others. Fifty men and women lay as if but resting for the hour, smiles on their peaceful faces, but weary shadows beneath their eyes. There was an unhuman quality about them which was lacking in their descendants. Erg advanced to the high couch and beckoned Garen to join him. A man and a woman lay there, the woman's head upon the man's breast. There was that in their faces which made Garen turn away. He felt as if he had intruded roughly where no man should go. Here lies Thrawn, son of light, first lord of the caverns, and his lady Thralla, dweller in the light. So have they lain a thousand thousand years and so will they lie until this planet rots to dust beneath them. They led the folk out of the slime and made Tav, such as they we shall never see again. They passed silently down the aisles of the dead. Once Garen caught sight of another fair-haired man, perhaps another outlander, since the ancient ones were all dark of hair. Erg paused once more before they left the hall. He stood by the couch of a man wrapped in a long robe whose face was ravaged with marks of agony. Erg spoke a single name. Thrawn. So this was the last lord of the caverns. Garen leaned closer to study the dead face, but Erg seemed to have lost his patience. He hurried his charge on to a panel door. This is the southern portal of the caverns, he explained. Trust to the Anna to guide you and beware of the boiling mud. Should the mortals sent you, kill quickly. They are the servants of the black ones. Fortune favor you, Outlander. The door was open and Garen looked out upon Tav. The soft blue light was as strong as it had been when he had first seen it. With the Anna perched on his shoulder, the green rod and the bag of food in his hands, he stepped out onto the moss sod. Erg raised his hand in salute and the door clicked into place. Garen stood alone, pledged to bring the daughter out of the caves of darkness. There is no night or day in Tav since the blue light is steady. But the folk divide their time by artificial means. However, Garen, being newly come from the rays of healing, felt no fatigue. As he hesitated, the Anna chattered and pointed confidently ahead. Before them was a dense wood of fern trees. It was quiet in the forest as Garen made his way into its gloom and for the first time he noted a peculiarity of Tav. There were no birds. The portion of the woodland that they had to transverse was but a spur of the forest to the west. After an hour of travel they came out upon the bank of a sluggish river. The turbid wooders of the stream were a dull saffron color. This, thought Garen, must be the river of gold, the boundary of the lands of the black ones. He rounded a bend to come upon a bridge, so old that time itself had worn its stones angles into curves. The bridge gave on a wide plain where tall grass grew sear and yellow. To the left was a hissing and bubbling and a huge wave of boiling mud rose in the air. Garen choked in the wind, thick with chemicals which blew from it. He smelled and tasted the sulfur-tainted air all across the plain, and he was glad enough to plunge into a small fern grove which half concealed a spring. There he bathed his head and arms while the Anna pulled open Sira's food bag. Together they ate the cakes of grain and the dried fruit. When they were done the Anna tugged at Garen's hand and pointed on. Cautiously Garen wormed his way through the thick underbrush until at last he looked out into a clearing and at its edge the entrance of the black one's caves. Two tall pillars carved into the likeness of foul monsters guarded a rough-edged hole. A fine greenish mist whirled and danced in its mouth. The flyer studied the entrance. There was no life to be seen. He gripped the destroying rod and inched forward. Before the green mist he braced himself and then stepped within. Chapter 6 Kept as Second Prisoner The green mist enveloped Garen. He drew into his lungs hot moist air faintly tinged with a scent of sickly sweetness as from some hidden corruption. Green motes in the air gave forth little light and seemed to cling to the intruder. With the Anna pattering before him the Americans started down a steep ramp the soft soles of his buskins making no sound. At regular intervals along the wall niches held small statues and about each perverted figure was a crown of green motes. The Anna stopped. Its large ears outspread as if to catch the faintest murmur of sound. From somewhere under the earth came the howls of a maddened dog. The Anna shivered creeping closer to Garen. Down led the ramp growing narrower and steeper and louder sounded the insane coughing howls of the dog. Then the passage was abruptly barred by a grill of black stone. Garen peered through its bars at a flight of stairs leading down into a pit. From the pit arose snarling laughter. Padding back and forth were things which might have been conceived by demons. They were sleek, rat-like creatures hairless and large as ponies. Red saliva dripped from the corners of their sharp jaws but in the eyes which they raised now and then toward the grill there was intelligence. These were the morgals, watchdogs and slaves of the black ones. From a second pair of stairs directly across the pit arose a moaning call. A door opened and two men came down the steps. The morgals surged forward but fell back when whips were cracked over their heads. The masters of the morgals were human in appearance. Black loincloths were twisted about them and long wing-shaped cloaks hung from their shoulders. On their heads completely masking their hair were cloth caps which bore ragged crests not unlike coxcomes. As far as Garen could see they were unarmed except for their whips. A second party was coming down the steps. Between two of the black ones struggled a prisoner. He made a desperate and hopeless fight of it but they dragged him to the edge of the pit before they halted. The morgals' intent upon their promised prey crouched before them. Five steps above were two figures to whom the guards looked for instructions. One was a man of their race, a slender, handsome body and evil, beautiful face. His hand lay possessively upon the arm of his companion. It was Thralla who stood beside him. Her head proudly erect. The laughter curves were gone from her lips. There was only sorrow and resignation to be read there now. But her spirit burned like a white flame in her eyes. Look! her warder ordered. Does not kept to keep his promises? Shall we give Danton to the jaws of our slaves or will you unsay certain words of yours, Lady Thralla? The prisoner answered for her. Kept a son of vileness. Thralla is not for you. Remember, beloved one, he spoke to the daughter. The day of deliverance is at hand. Garen felt a sudden emptiness. The prisoner had called Thralla beloved with the ease of one who had the right. I await Thralla's answer. Kept a returned evenly. And her answer he got. Beast among beasts. You may send Danton to his death. You may heap all manner of insult and evil upon me. But still, I say, the daughter is not for your touch. Rather I will cut the line of life with my own hands, taking upon me the punishment of the elder ones. To Danton, she smiled down upon the prisoner. I say, farewell. We shall meet again beyond the curtain of time. She held out her hands to him. Thralla, dear one! One of his guards slapped a hand over the prisoner's mouth, putting an end to his words. But now Thralla was looking beyond him, staring at the grill which sheltered Garen. Kept a pulled at her arm to gain her attention. Watch! Thus do my enemies die, to the pit with him. The guards twisted their prisoner around, and the more girls crept closer, their eyes fixed upon that young writhing body. Garen knew that he must take a hand in the game. The Anna was tugging him to the right, and there was an open archway leading to a balcony running around the side of the pit. Those below were too entranced by the coming sport to notice the invader. But Thralla glanced up, and Garen thought that she cited him. Something in her attitude attracted Kepta. He too looked up. For a moment he stared in stark amazement, and then he thrust the daughter through the door behind him. Ho! Outlander. Welcome to the caves, so the folk have meddled. Greeting, Kepta. Garen hardly knew whence came the words which fell so easily from his tongue. I have come, as was promised, to remain until the black throne is no more. Not even the more girls boast before their prey lies limp in their jaws, flashed Kepta. What manner of beast are you? A clean beast, Kepta, which you are not. Bid your two-legged mortals loose the youth lest I grow impatient. The flyer swung the green rod into view. Kepta's eyes narrowed, but his smile did not fade. I have heard of old that the ancient ones do not destroy. As an Outlander I am not bound by their limits, returned Garen, as you will learn if you do not call off your stinking pack. The master of the caves laughed. You are as the tanned, a fool without a brain. Never shall you see the caverns again. You shall owe me master yet, Kepta. The black chief seemed to consider. Then he waved to his men. Release him, he ordered. Outlander, you are braver than I thought. We might bargain. Thralla goes forth from the caves and the black throne is dust. Those are the terms of the caverns. And if we do not accept, then Thralla goes forth, the throne is dust, and Tav shall have a day of judging such as it has never seen before. You challenge me? Again, words which seem to Garen to have their origin elsewhere came to him. As in, you lack, I shall take. Before Kepta could reply there was trouble in the pit. Dantan, freed by his guards, was crossing the floor in running leaps. Garen threw himself belly down on the balcony and dropped the jeweled strap of his belt over the lip. A moment later it snapped, taught, and he stiffened to an upward pull. Already, Dantan's heels were above the snapping jaws of a morgrel. The flyer caught the youth around the shoulders and heaved. They rolled together against the wall. They are all gone, all of them! Dantan cried as he regained his feet. He was right. The morgrels held below, but Kepta and his men had vanished. Thralla, Garen exclaimed. Dantan nodded. They have taken her back to the cells. They believe her safe there. Then they think wrong. Garen stooped to pick up the green rod. His companion laughed. We'd best start before they get prepared for us. Garen picked up the Anna. Which way? Dantan showed him a passage leading from behind the other door. Then he dodged into a side chamber to return with two of the wing cloaks and cloth hoods so that they might pass as black ones. They went by the mouths of three side tunnels, all deserted. None disputed their going. All the black ones had withdrawn from this part of the caves. Dantan sniffed uneasily. All is not well. I fear a trap. While we can pass, let us. The passage curved to the right and they came into an oval room. Again Dantan shook his head but ventured no protest. Instead he flung open a door and hurried down a short hall. It seemed to Garen that there were strange rustlings and squeakings in the dark corners. Then Dantan stopped so short that the flyer ran into him. Here is the guard room and it is empty. Garen looked over his shoulder into a large room. Racks of strange weapons hung on the walls and the sleeping pallets of the guards were stacked evenly, but the men were nowhere to be seen. They crossed the room and passed beneath an archway. Even the bars are not down, observed Dantan. He pointed overhead. There hung a portcullis of stone. Garen studied it apprehensively, but Dantan drew him on into a narrow corridor where were barred doors. The bells he explained and withdrew a bar across one door. The portal swung back and they pushed within. End of Part 1 of The People of the Crater by Andre Norton. The People of the Crater, Part 2 by Andre Norton. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Reading by Greg Marguerite. The People of the Crater, Part 2 by Andre Norton. Chapter 7 Kept His Trap Thralla arose to face them. Forgetting the disguise he wore, Garen drew back chilled by her icy demeanor. But Dantan sprang forward and caught her in his arms. She struggled madly until she saw the face beneath her captor's hood and then she gave a cry of delight and her arms were about his neck. Dantan. He smiled. Even so. But it's the Outlanders doing. She came to the American studying his face. Outlander? So cold a name is not for you when you have served us so. She offered him her hands and he raised them to his lips. And how are you named? Dantan laughed. Thus the eternal curiosity of women. Garen. Garen, she repeated. How like a faint rose glued beneath her pearl flesh. Dantan's hand fell lightly upon his rescuer's shoulder. Indeed he is like him. From this day let him bear that other's name. Garen, son of Light. Why not, she returned calmly. After all, the reward which might have been Garen's may be his. And the story of his namesake when we are again in the caverns. Dantan was interrupted by a frightened squeak from the Anna. Then came a mocking voice. So the prey has entered the trap of its own will. How many hunters may boast the same? Kepta leaned against the door, the light of vicious mischief dancing in his eyes. Garen dropped his cloak to the floor but Dantan must have read what was in the flyer's mind and caught him by the arm. On your life touch him not. So you have learned that much wisdom while you have dwelt among us, Dantan. Would that Thralla had done the same. But fair women find me weak. He eyed her proud body in a way that would have sent Garen at his throat had Dantan not held him. So shall Thralla have a second chance. How would you like to see these men in the room of instruments, lady? I do not fear you, she returned. Thron once made a prophecy and he never spoke idly. We shall win free. That will be as fate would have it. Meanwhile I leave you to each other. He whipped around the door and slammed it behind him. They heard the grating of the bar he slid into place. Then his footsteps died away. There goes evil murmured Thralla softly. Perhaps it would have been better if Garen had killed him as he thought to do. We must get away. Garen drew the rod from his belt. The green light motes gathered and clung about its polished length. Touched not the door, Thralla advised. Only its hinges. Beneath the tip of the rod the stone became spongy and flaked away. Dantan and the flier caught the door and eased it to the floor. With one quick movement Thralla caught up Garen's cloak and swirled at about her hiding the glitter of her gem-encrusted robe. There was a curious, cold lifelessness about the air of the corridor. The light-bearing motes vanishing as if blown out. Harry, the daughter, urged, kept to his withdrawing the living light so that we will have to wander in the dark. When they reached the end of the hall the light was quite gone and Garen bruised his hands against the stone portcullis which had been lowered. From somewhere on the other side of the barrier came rippling laughter. Oh, outlander, called Kepta mockingly. You will get through easily enough when you remember your weapon, but the dark you cannot conquer so easily, nor that which runs the halls. Garen was already busy with the rod. Within five minutes their way was clear again but Thralla stopped them when they would have gone through. Kepta has loosed the hunters. The more girls and others explained Dantan. The black ones have withdrawn and only death comes this way and the more girls see in the dark. So does the Anna. Well thought of, agreed the son of the ancient ones. It will lead us out. As if in answer there came a tug at Garen's belt. Reaching back he caught Thralla's hand and knew that she had taken Dantan's. So linked they crossed the guard room. Then the Anna paused for a long time. As if listening, there was nothing to see but the darkness which hung about them like the smothering folds of a curtain. Something follows us, whispered Dantan. Nothing to fear, stated Thralla. It dare not attack. It is, I think, of Kepta's fashioning and that which has not true life dreads death above all things. It is going. There came sounds of something crawling slowly away. Kepta will not try that again, continued the daughter disdainfully. He knew that his monstrosities would not attack. Only in the light are they to be dreaded and then only because of the horror of their forms. Again the Anna tugged at its master's belt. They shuffled into the narrow passage beyond but there remained the sense of things about them in the dark. Things which Thralla continued to insist were harmless and yet which filled Garen with loathing. Then they entered the far corridor into which led the three halls and which ended in the Morgrel pit. Here Garen believed was the greatest danger from the Morgrels. The Anna stopped short, dropping back against Garen's thigh. In the blackness appeared two yellow discs, sparks of saffron in their depths. Garen thrust the rod into Thralla's hands. What do you, she demanded. I'm going to clear the way. It's too dark to use the rod against moving creatures. He flung the words over his shoulder as he moved toward the unwinking eyes. Chapter 8 Escape From The Caves Keeping his eyes upon those soulless yellow discs Garen snatched off his hood, wadding it into a ball. Then he sprang. His fingers slipped on smooth hide. Sharp fangs ripped his forearm. Blunt nails scraped his ribs. A foul breath puffed into his face and a sliver trickled down his neck and chest. But his bland succeeded. The cap was wedged into the Morgrel's throat and the beast was slowly choking. Blood dripped from the flyer's torn flesh but he held on grimly until he saw the light fade from those yellow eyes. The dying Morgrel made a last mad plunge for freedom, dragging his attacker along the rock floor. Then Garen felt the heaving body rest limply against his own. He staggered against the wall, panting. Garen! cried Thralla. Her questioning hand touched his shoulder and crept to his face. Is it well with you? Yes, he panted. Let us go on. Thralla's fingers had lingered on his arm and now she walked beside him, her cloak making whispering sounds as it brushed against the wall and floor. Wait! she cautioned suddenly. The Morgrel pit! Dantan slipped by them. I will try the door. In a moment he was back. It is open, he whispered. Capta believes, mused Thralla, that we will keep to the safety of the gallery. Therefore let us go through the pit. The Morgrel's will be gone to better hunting grounds. Through the pit they went. A choking stancher rose from underfoot and they trod very carefully. They climbed the stairs on the far side, unchallenged, Dantan leading. The rod here, Garen, he called. This door is barred. Garen pressed the weapon into the other's hand and leaned against the rock. He was sick and dizzy. The long, deep wounds on his arm and shoulder were stiffening and ached with a biting throb. When they went on he panted with effort. They still moved in darkness and his distress passed unnoticed. This is wrong, he muttered, half to himself. We go too easily. And he was answered out of the blackness. Well noted, Outlander, but you go free for the moment as does Thralla and Dantan. Our full accounting is not yet. And now, farewell, until we meet again in the Hall of Thrones. I could find it in me to applaud your courage, Outlander. Perhaps you will come to serve me yet. Garen turned and threw himself toward the voice bringing up with bruising force against rock wall. Kept a laugh. Not with the skill of a bolt hand will you capture me. His second laugh was cut cleanly off as if a door had been closed. In silence the three hurried up the ramp. Then as through a curtain they came into the light of Tav. Thralla let fall her drab cloak, stood with arms outstretched in the craterland. Her sparkling robe sheathed her in glory and she sang softly, wrapped in her own delight. Then Dantan put his arm about her. She clung to him, staring about as might a beauty bewildered child. Garen wondered dully how he would be able to make the journey back to the caverns when his arm and shoulder were eaten with a consuming fire. The Anna crept closer to him, peering into his white face. They were aroused by a howl from the caves. Thralla cried out and Dantan answered her unspoken question. They have set the morgrels on our trail. The howl from the caves was echoed from the forest, morgrels before and behind them. Garen might set himself against one, Dantan another and Thralla could defend herself with the rod, but in the end the pack would kill them. We shall claim protection from the gibby of the cliff. By the law they must give us aid, said Thralla as turning up her long robe she began to run lightly. Garen picked up her cloak and drew it across his shoulder to hide his welts. When he could no longer hold her pace she must not guess the reason for his falling behind. Of that flight through the forest the flyer afterward remembered little. At last the gurgle of water broke upon his pounding ears as he stumbled along a good ten lengths behind his companions. They had come to the edge of the wood along the banks of the river. Without hesitation Thralla and Dantan plunged into the oily flood swimming easily for the other side. Garen dropped the cloak wondering if once he stepped into the yellow stream he would ever be able to struggle out again. Already the Anna was in paddling in circles near the shore and pleading with him to follow. Wearily Garen waited out. The water which washed the blood and sweat from his aching body was faintly brackish and stung to life. He could not fight the sluggish current and it bore him downstream well away from where the others landed. But at last he managed to win free crawling out near where a smaller stream joined the river. There he lay panting face down upon the moss. And there they found him water dripping from his bedraggled finery, the Anna stroking his muddied hair. Thralla cried out with concern that Dantan examined his wounds. Why did you not tell us? demanded Thralla. He did not try to answer, content to lie there, her arms supporting him. Dantan disappeared into the forest, returning soon his hands filled with a mass of crushed leaves. With these he plastered Garen's wounds. You'd better go on, Garen warned. Dantan shook his head. At last they must go to the bridge and that is half the crater away. The Anna dropped into their midst. Its small hands filled with clusters of purple fruit. And so they feasted, Garen at ease on a fern couch accepting food from Thralla's hand. There seemed to be some virtue in Dantan's leaf plaster for after a short rest Garen was able to get to his feet with no more than a twinge or two in his wounds. With more sober pace. Through mossy glands and sunlit glades where strange flowers made perfume the trail led. The stream they followed branched twice before on the edge of Meadowland they struck away from the guiding water toward the crater wall. Suddenly Thralla threw back her head and gave a shrill sweet whistle. Out of the air dropped a yellow and black insect as large as a hawk. Twice it circled her head and touched itself on her outstretched wrist. Its swollen body was jet black. Its curving legs three to a side chrome yellow. The round head ended in a sharp beak and it had large, many faceted eyes. The wings which lazily tested the air were black and touched with gold. Thralla rubbed the round head while the insect nuzzled affectionately at her cheek. Then she held out her wrist again and it was gone. We shall be expected now and may pass unmolested. Shortly they became aware of a murmuring sound. The crater wall loomed ahead dwarfing the trees at its base. There is the city of the gibby, remarked Dantan. Clinging to the rock were the towers and turrets of many eight-sided cells. They are preparing for the mists, observed Thralla. We shall have company on our journey to the caverns. They passed the trees and reached the foot of the whack skyscrapers which towered dizzily above their heads. A great cloud of gibby hovered about them. Garen felt the soft brush of their wings against his body and they crowded each other jealously to be near Thralla. The soft hush-hush of their wings filled the clearing as one large gibby of outstanding beauty approached. The commoners fluttered off and Thralla greeted the queen with their bells as an equal. Then she turned to her companions with the information the gibby queen had to offer. We are just in time. Tomorrow the gibby leave. The morgrels have crossed the river and are out of control. Instead of hunting us, they have gone to ravage the forest lands. All tab has been warned against them, but they may be caught by the mists and so destroyed. We are to rest for us when it is time to leave. The gibby withdrew to the cellcombs after conducting their guests to the rock hollows. Chapter 9 Days of Preparation Garen was awakened by a loud murmuring. Dantan knelt beside him. We must go. Even now the gibby seal the last of the cells. They ate heredly of cakes of grain and honey, and as they feasted the queen again visited them. The first of the swarm were already winging eastward. With the gibby nation hanging like a storm cloud above them, the three started off across the meadow. The purple-blue haze was thickening and here and there curious formations like the dust devils of the desert arose and danced and disappeared again. The tropic heat of Tav increased. It was as if the ground itself were steaming. The mists draw close. We must hurry, panted Dantan. They traversed the tongue of the forest which bordered the meadow and came to the central plain of Tav. There was a brooding stillness there. The Anna perched on Garen's shoulders, shivered. Their walk became a trot. The gibby bunched together. Once Thralla caught her breath in a half sob. They are flying slowly because of us and it's so far. Look! Dantan pointed at the morgrels. The morgrel pack driven by fear ran in leaping bounds. They passed within a hundred yards of the three yet did not turn from their course though several snarled at them. They are already dead, observed Dantan. There was no time for them to reach the shelter of the caves. Splashing through a shallow brook the three began to run. For the first time, Thralla faltered and broke pace. And before she could protest, swept the girl into his arms. The haze was denser now, setting upon them as a curtain. Black hair, finer than silk, whipped across Garen's throat. Thralla's head was on his shoulder. Her heaving breasts arched as she gasped the sultry hair. They keep watch! shouted Dantan. Piercing the gloom were pinpoints of light. A dark shape grazed Garen's head, one of the gibby guards. Then abruptly they stumbled into a throng of the folk, one of whom reached for Thralla with a crooning cry. It was Sira welcoming her mistress. Thralla was born away by the women, leaving Garen with a feeling of desolation. The mist's outlander. It was erg, pointing toward the cavern mouth. Two of the folk swung their weight on a lever across the opening as sheet of crystal clicked into place. The caverns were broken. The haze was now inky black outside, and billows of it beat against the protecting barrier. It might have been midnight of the blackest starless night. So will it be for forty days. What is without, dies, said erg. Then we have forty days in which to prepare, Garen spoke his thought aloud. Dantan's keen face lightened. Well said, Garen, forty days before it kept him a secus, and we have much to do, but first our respects to the lord of the folk. Together they went to the hall of thrones where, when he saw Dantan, Trar arose and held out his jade-tipped rod of office. The son of the ancient ones touched it. Hail, dweller in the light, and outlander who has fulfilled the promise of Thralla. Thralla is once more within the caverns. Now send you to dust this black throne. Nothing loath drew the destroying rod from his belt, but Dantan shook his head. The time is not yet, Trar. Kepta must finish the pattern he began. Forty days have we, and then the black ones come. Trar considered thoughtfully. So that be the way of it. Thran did not see another war. But he saw an end to Kepta. Trar straightened as if some burden had rolled from his thin shoulders. Well do you speak, Lord? When there is one to sit upon the rose-throne what have we to fear? Listen, O ye folk, the light has returned to the caverns. His cry was echoed by the gathering of the folk. And now, Lord, he turned to Dantan with deference. What are your commands? For the space of one sleep I shall enter the chamber of renewing with this outlander, who is no longer an outlander but one accepted by the daughter according to the law. And while we rest let all be made ready. The dweller in the light has spoken. Trar himself escorted them from the hall. They came through many winding passages to a deep pool of water in the depths of which lurked odd purple shadows. Dantan stripped and plunged in, Garen following his example. The water was tinglingly alive and they did not linger in it long. From it they went to a bubble room such as the one Garen had rested in after the bath of light rays and on the cushions in its center stretched their tired bodies. When Garen awoke he experienced the same exaltation he had felt before. Dantan regarded him with a smile. Now to work, he said, as he reached out to press a knob set in the wall. Two of the folk appeared bringing with them clean trappings. After they dressed and broke their heads, Dantan started for the laboratories. Garen would have gone with him but Sarah intercepted them. There is one who would speak with Lord Garen. Dantan laughed. Go! he ordered the American. Thralla's commands may not be slighted. The hall of women was deserted and the corridor beyond roofed and walled with slabs of rose-shot crystal was as empty. Sira drew aside a golden curtain and they were in the audience chamber of the daughter. A semi-circular dais of the clearest crystal heaped with rose and gold cushions faced them. Before it a fountain in the form of a flower nodding on a curved stem sent a spray of water into a shallow basin. The walls of the room were divided into alcoves by marble pillars. Each one curved in semblance of a fern-fraund. From the domed ceiling on chains of twisted gold seven lamps from a single yellow sapphire gave soft light. The floor was a mosaic of gold and crystal. Two small anas who had been playing among the cushions patterned up to exchange greetings with Garen's. But of the mistress of the chamber there was no sign. Garen turned to Sira but before he could phrase his question she asked mockingly, Who is the Lord Garen that he cannot wait with patience? Garen glanced on easily about the room. This jeweled chamber was no place for him. He had started toward the door when Thralla stepped within. Greetings to the daughter. His voice sounded formal and cold even to himself. Her hands which had been outheld in welcome dropped to her sides. A ghost of a frown dimmed her beauty. Greetings, Garen. She returned slowly. You sent for me? He prompted eager to escape from this jewel box and the unattainable treasure it held. Yes, the coldness of her tone was an order of exile. I would know how you fared and whether your wounds yet troubled you. He looked down at his own smooth flesh cleanly healed by the wisdom of the folk. I am myself again and eager to be at such work as Danton can find for me. Her robes seemed to hiss across the floor as she turned upon him. Then go, she ordered, go quickly. And blindly he obeyed. She had spoken as if to a servant, one whom she could summon and dismiss by whim. Even if Danton held her love she might have extended him her friendship but he knew within him that friendship would be a poor crumb beside the feast his pulses pounded for. There was a pattering of feet behind him. So she would call him back. His pride sent him on. But it was Sarah, her head thrust forward until she truly resembled a reptile. Fool! Morgrel! she spat. Even the black ones did not treat her so. Get you out of the place of women lest they divide your skin among them. Garen broke free not heeding her torrent of reproach. Then he seized upon one of the folk as a guide and sought the laboratories. Far beneath the surface of Tav where the light moats shone ghostly in the gloom they came into a place of ceaseless activity where there were tables crowded with instruments, coils of glass and metal tubing and other equipment and supplies. These were the focusing point for ceaseless streams of the folk. On a platform at the far end Garen saw the tall sun of the ancient ones working on a framework of metal and shining quartz. He glanced up as Garen joined him. You are late, he accused, but your excuse is a good one. Now, get you to work. Hold this here and here while I fasten these clamps. So Garen became extra hands and feet for Dantan, and they worked feverishly to build against the lifting of the mists. There was no day or night in the laboratories. They worked steadily, without rest and without feeling fatigue. Twice they went to work twice they went to the chamber of renewing but except for these trips to the upper ways they were not out of the laboratories through all those days. Of Thralla there was no sign, nor did anyone speak of her. The cavern dwellers were depending upon two defenses, an evil green liquid to be thrown in frail glass globes and a screen charged with energy. Shortly before the lifting of the mists these arms were transported to the entrance and installed there. Dantan and Garen made a last inspection. Keptan makes the mistake of underrating his enemies. Dantan reflected, feeling the edge of the screen carelessly. When I was captured on the day my people died I was sent to the Black One's laboratories so that their seekers after knowledge might learn the secrets of the ancient ones. But I proved a better pupil than teacher and I discovered the defense against the black fire. After I had learned that, Keptan grew impatient with my supposed stupidity and tried to use me to force Thralla to his will. For that, as for other things, shall he pay and the paying will not be in coin of his own striking. Let us think of that. He turned to greet Urg and Trar and the other leaders of the folk who had approached unnoticed. Among them stood Thralla, her gaze fixed upon the crystal wall between them and the thinning mist. She noticed Garen no more than she did the anas playing with her train and the women whispering behind her. But Garen stepped back into the shadows and what he saw was not weapons of war but cloudy black hair and graceful white limbs veiled in splendor. Urg and one of the other chieftains bore down upon the door lever. With a protesting squeak the glass wall disappeared into the rock. The green of Tav beckoned them out to walk in its freshness. They were renewed with lusty life. But in all that expanse of meadow and forest there was a strange stillness. Post-centuries ordered Dantan. The black ones will come soon. He beckoned Garen forward as he spoke to Thralla. Let us go to the Hall of Thrones. But the daughter did not answer his smile. It is not meat that we should spend time in idle talk. Let us go instead to call upon the help of those who have gone before us. So speaking she darted a glance at Garen as chill as the Arctic lands beyond the tip of Tav and then swept away with Sira bearing her train. Dantan stared at Garen. What has happened between you two? The flyer shook his head. I don't know. No man is born with an understanding of women. But she is angered with you. What has happened? For a moment Garen was tempted to tell the truth that he dared not break any barrier she chose to raise lest he seize what in honor was none of his. But he shook his head mutely. Neither of them saw Thralla again until death entered the caverns. Chapter 10 Battle and Victory Garen stood with Dantan looking out into the plain of Tav. Some distance away were two slender steel-tipped towers which were in reality but hollow tubes filled with the black fire. Before these dark-clad figures were busy, they seemed to believe us already defeated. Let them think so, commented Dantan touching the screen they had erected before the cavern entrance. As he spoke, Kepta swaggered through the tall grass to call a greeting. Oh! Rock-dweller! I would speak with you. Dantan edged around the screen. Garen apace behind. I see you, Kepta. Good. I trust that your ears will serve you as well as your eyes. These are my terms. Give Thralla to me to dwell in my chamber and the outlander to provide sport for my captains. Make no resistance, but throw open the caverns so that I may take my rightful place in the Hall of Thrones. Do this, and we shall be at peace. And this is our reply. Dantan stood unmovingly before the screen. Return to the caves. Break down the bridge between your land and ours. Let no black one come hither again. Ever. Kepta laughed. So that be the way of it. Then this shall we do. Take Thralla to be mine for a space, and then go to my captains. Garen hurled himself forward, felt Kepta's lips mash beneath his fist. His fingers were closing about the other's throat as Dantan, who was trying to pull him away from his prey, shouted a warning. Get out! A morgrel had leapt from the grass, its teeth snapping about Garen's wrist, forcing him to drop Kepta. Then Dantan laid it senseless by a sharp blow with his belt. On hands and knees Kepta crawled back to his men. The lower part of his face was a red and dripping smear. He screamed an order with savage fury. Dantan drew the still, raging flyer behind the screen. Be a little prudent, he panted. He could be dealt with in other ways than bare hands. The towers were swinging their tips toward the entrance. Dantan ordered the screen wedged tightly into place. Outside the morgrel Dantan had stunned got groggily to its feet. When it had limped half the distance back to its master Kepta gave the order to fire. The broad beam of black light from the tip of the nearest tower caught the beast head on. There was a chilling scream of agony and where the morgrel had stood gray ashes drifted on the wind. A hideous crackling arose as the black beam struck the screen. Green grass beneath seared away, leaving only parched earth and naked blue soil. Those within the cavern crouched behind their frail protection half blinded by the light from the seared grass coughing from the chemical-ridden fumes which curled about the cracks of the rock. Then the beam faded out. Thin smoke plumed from the tips of the towers. Steam arose from the blackened ground. Dantan drew a deep breath. It held, he cried, betraying at last the fear which had ridden him. Men of the folk dragged engines of tubing before the screen while others brought forth the globes of green liquid. Dantan stood aside as if this matter were the business of the folk alone and Garen recalled that the ancient ones were opposed to the taking of life. Trar was in command now. At his orders the globes were posed on spoon-shaped holders. Loopholes in the screen clicked open. Trar brought down his hand in signal. The globes arose lazily, sliding through the loopholes and floating out toward the towers. One, aimed short, struck the ground where the fire had burned it bare and broke. The liquid came forth, sluggishly forming a grey-green gas as the air struck it. Another spiral of gas arose almost at the foot of one of the towers and then another and another. There quickly followed a tortured screaming which soon dwindled to a weak yammering. They could see shapes no longer human or animal staggering about in the fog. Dantan turned away, his face white with horror. Garen's hands were over his ears to shut out that crying. At last it was quiet. There was no more movement by the towers. Urg placed a sphere of rosy light upon the nearest machine and flipped it out into the camp of the enemy. As if it were a magnet, it drew the green tendrils of gas to leave the air clear. Here and there lay shrunken, livid shapes, the towers brooding over them. One of the folk burst into their midst a woman of Thralla's following. Haste! she clawed at Garen. Kept her, takes Thralla! She ran wildly back the way she had come with the American pounding at her heels. They burst into the Hall of Thrones and saw a struggling group before the dais. Garen heard someone howl like an animal, became aware the sound came from his own throat. For the second time his fist found its mark on Keptus' face. With a shriek of rage the black one threw Thralla from him and sprang at Garen, his nails tearing gashes in the flyer's face. Twice the American twisted free and sent bone-crunching blows into the other's ribs. Then he got the grip he wanted and his fingers closed around Keptus' throat. In spite of the black one's struggles he held on until a limp body rolled beneath him. Panting the American pulled himself up from the blood-stained floor and grabbed the arm of the jade throne for support. Garen! Thralla's arms were about him, her pitying fingers on his wounds and in that moment he forgot Dantan, forgot everything he had steeled himself to remember. She was in his arms and his mouth sought hers possessively. Nor was she unresponsive but yielded as a flower yields to the wind. Garen! She whispered softly. Then almost shyly she broke from his hold. Beyond her stood Dantan, his face white, his mouth tight. Garen remembered and a little mad with pain and longing he dropped his eyes trying not to see the loveliness which was Thralla. So outlander! Thralla flies to your arms. Garen whirled about. Kepta was hunched on the broad seat of the jet throne. No, I am not dead, outlander, nor shall you kill me as you think to do. I go now, but I shall return. We have met and hated, fought and died before you and I. You were a certain Garen, marshal of the air fleet of you lack on a vanished world and I was Lord of Coombe. That was in the days before the ancient one's pioneered space. You and I and Thralla, we are bound together and even fate cannot break those bonds. Farewell, Garen, and do you, Thralla, remember the ending of that other Garen? It was not an easy one. With a last malicious chuckle he leaned back in the throne. His battered body slumped. Then the sharp lines of the throne blurred. It shimmered in the light. Abruptly then both it and its occupant were gone. They were staring at empty space above which loomed the rose throne of the ancient ones. He spoke true, murmured Thralla. We have had other lives, other meetings. So will we meet again. But for the present he returns to the darkness which sent him forth. It is finished. Without warning a low rumbling filled the cavern. The walls rocked and swayed. Lizard and human they huddled together until the swaying stopped. Finally a runner appeared with news that one of the Gibby had ventured forth and discovered that the caves of darkness had been sealed by an underground quake. The menace of the black ones was definitely at an end. Chapter 11 Thralla's Mate Although there were falls of rock within the caverns and some of the passages were closed, few of the folks suffered injury. Gibby Scouts reported that the land about the entrance to the caves had sunk and that the river of gold thrown out of its bed was fast filling this basin to form a lake. As far as they could discover, none of the black ones had survived the battle and the sealing of the caves. But they could not be sure that there was not a handful of outlaws somewhere within the confines of Tav. The crater itself was changed. A series of raw hills had appeared in the central plain. The pool of boiling mud had vanished and trees in the forest lay flat as if cut by a giant scythe. Upon their return to the cliff city, the Gibby found most of their wax skyscrapers in ruins, but they set about rebuilding without complaint. The squirrel farmers emerged from their burrows and were again busy in the fields. Garin fell out of place in all the activity that filled the caverns. More than ever he was the outlander with no true roots in Tav. Restlessly he explored the caverns, spending many hours in the place of ancestors where he studied those men of the outer worlds who had preceded him into this weird land. One night when he came back to his chamber, he found Dantan and Trar awaiting him there. There was a curious hardness in Dantan's attitude, a somber sobriety in Trar's carriage. Have you sought the Hall of Women since the battle? Demanded the son of the ancient ones abruptly. No, retorted Garin shortly. Did Dantan accuse him of double dealing? Have you sent a message to Thralla? Garin held back his rising temper. I have not ventured where I cannot. Dantan nodded to Trar as if his suspicions had been confirmed. You see how it stands, Trar. Trar shook his head slowly, but never has the summoning been at fault. You forget Dantan reminded him sharply. It was once, and the penalty was exacted. So shall it be again. Garin looked from one to the other, confused. Dantan seemed possessed of a certain ruthless anger, but Trar was manifestly unhappy. It must come after counsel, the daughter willing, the Lord of the folks said. Dantan strode toward the door. Thralla is not to know. No, assemble the counsel tonight. Meanwhile, see that he, he jerked his thumb toward Garin, does not leave this room. Thus Garin became a prisoner under the guard of the folk, unable to discover of what Dantan accused him, or how he had aroused the hatred of the cavern ruler. Unless Dantan's jealousy had been aroused, and he was determined to rid himself of a rival. Believing this, the flyer went willingly to the chamber where the judges waited. Dantan sat at the head of a long table, Trar at his right hand and lesser nobles of the folk beyond. You know the charge. Dantan's words were tipped with venom as Garin came to stand before him. Out of his own mouth has this outlander condemned himself. Therefore I ask that you decree for him the fate of that outlander of the second calling who rebelled against the summoning. The outlander has admitted his fault, questioned one of the folk. Trar inclined his head sadly. He did. As Garin opened his mouth to demand a stating of the charge against him, Dantan spoke again. What say you lords? For a long moment they sat in silence, and then they bobbed their lizard heads in ascent. Do as you desire, dweller in the light. Dantan smiled without mirth. Look, outlander! He passed his hand over the glass of the seeing-mirror set in the tabletop. This is the fate of him who rebels. In the shining surface Garin saw pictured a break in Tav's wall. At its foot stood a group of men of the ancient ones, and in their midst struggled a prisoner. They were forcing him to climb the crater wall. Garin watched him reach the lip and crawl over to stagger across the steaming rock, dodging the scalding vapor of hot springs until he pitched face down in the slimy mud. Such was his ending, and so will you end. The calm brutality of that statement aroused Garin's anger. Rather would I die that way than linger in this den! He cried hotly. You, who owe your life to me, would send me to such a death without even telling me of what I am accused. Little is there to choose between you and Kepta after all, except that he was an open enemy. Dantan sprang to his feet, but Trar caught his arm. He speaks fairly, ask him why he will not fulfill the summoning. While Dantan hesitated, Garin leaned across the table, flinging his words weapon-like straight into that cold face. I'll admit that I love Thralla, have loved her since that moment when I saw her on the steps of the Morgral Pit in the caves. Since when has it become a crime to love that which may not be yours if you do not try to take it? Trar released Dantan, his golden eyes gleaming. If you love her, claim her, it is your right! Do I not know, Garin turned to him, that she is Dantan's? Thrawn had no idea of Dantan's survival when he laid his will upon her. Shall I stoop to holding her to an unwelcome bargain? Let her go to the one she loves. Dantan's face was livid and his hands resting on the table trembled. One by one the lords of the folk slipped away, leaving the two face to face. And I thought to order you to your death. Dantan's whisper was husky as it emerged between dry lips. Garin, we thought you knew and knowing had refused her. Knew what? That I am Thrawn's son and Thralla's brother. The floor swung beneath Garin's unsteady feet. Dantan's hands were warm on his shoulders. I am a fool, said the American slowly. Dantan smiled, a very honorable fool. Now get you to Thralla who deserves to hear the full of this tangle. So it was that with Dantan by his side Garin walked for the second time down that hallway to pass the golden curtains and stand in the presence of the daughter. She came straight from her cushions to his arms when she read what was in his face. They needed no words. And in that hour began Garin's life in Tav. End of Part Two of The People of the Crater by Andre Norton