There was none, just confusion and a welter of shouted orders. He was ignored again, even though he held the device. He walked through the identically garbed crowd until he found the girl he had first met in the tunnel. He could have picked anyone: perhaps he chose her because he had known her the longest in this strange place. Pulling her by the arm he led her to the exit from the chamber.
“Take me away from here,” he ordered.
“Where?” she asked, twisting with weak fright in his grip.
Where? To some place where he could rest and eat some more. “Take me to your home.” He pushed her out into the corridor and prodded her spine with his new weapon.
2
In this corridor even the walls were of metal, and other substances he did not recognize, with no sign of rock anywhere. Door after identical door opened from the corridor and Chimal, walking behind the girl, almost ran into her when she stopped abruptly.
“This is mine,” she said, still half-dazed with fear of the unknown.
“How do you know?” he asked suspiciously, worrying about traps.
“Because of the number.” He looked at the black figures on the metal of the door and grunted, then kicked at the door which flew open. He pushed her in ahead of him, then closed and put his back to the door.
“This is a small house,” he said.
“It is a room.”
The room was no more than a man’s height wide and about twice as long. Something that was probably a sleeping mat lay on the ledge, and cabinets were against the wall. There was another door that he pulled open. It led to an even smaller room that contained a seat with a hid and some devices fixed to the wall. There appeared to be no other way out of this room.
“Do you have food?” he asked.
“No, of course not Not here.”
“You must eat?”
“But not in my room. At the teykogh with the others, that is the way it is.”
Another strange word, his head ached from so many of them. He had to find out where he was and who these people were, but he needed rest first: fatigue was a gray blanket that threatened to fall and smother him. She would call for help if he went to sleep; there was the box that talked to her that had brought aid when he had first found her.
“Take that off,” he ordered, pointing to the belt and hanging things about her waist
“It is not done with others present,” she said, horrified.
Chimal was too tired to argue: he struck her across the face. “Take it off.”
Sobbing, the red imprint of his fingers clear on her white skin, she did something to the belt and it loosened and fell to the floor. He threw it against the far wall.
“Is there a way out of this little room with the seat,” he asked, and when she shook her head no he believed her and pushed her into it. Then he closed the door and lay down against it so that it could not be moved without disturbing him, placed his head on his arm, held the killing thing against his chest and fell instantly asleep.
He awoke after some unknown length of time. The light came from above as it had before. He shifted position on the floor and went to sleep again.
The pushing annoyed him, and he mumbled in his sleep but he did not awake. He moved, to stop the irritation, and something about this bothered him and drove him up out of a heavy and engulfing unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, thick with sleep, he could not imagine where he was: he blinked at the black figure that was running across the room away from him. Watchman Steel was at the door, opening it, before his befogged senses stirred to life. He heaved himself forward, reaching out, and just managed to clutch her ankle as she started through. Once he touched her all resistance stopped completely and she just lay inert, weeping, as he dragged her across the floor then rose and kicked shut the exit. He leaned against it, shaking his head, trying to wake up. His body was sore all over and he was still tired despite the sleep.
“Where is there water?” he said, stirring her with his toe. She only moaned louder, eyes open and filled with tears, fists clenched at her sides. “I’m not going to hurt you, so stop that. I just want some help.” Despite what he said he grew angry when she didn’t answer and he slapped her again. “Tell me.”
Still sobbing deeply the girl rolled over and pointed to the room where she had been imprisoned. He looked in and saw that the little chair had a cover that lifted on a hinge, and beneath it. was; a large bowl of water. When he bent to scoop some out the girl screeched incoherently. She was sitting up, shaking her finger, horrified.
“No,” she finally gasped out. “No. That water is… not for drinking. There, on the wall, the nodren, that water you can drink.”
Worried by her obvious alarm, Chimal forced her into the room and made her explain its functions. She would not even look at the seat-bowl, but she filled another bowl on the wall with cold water that ran out of, a piece of. metal when she touched it the right way. After he had drunk his fill he poked at the other devices in the room and she told him what they were. The shower delighted him. He fixed it so that it ran hot and steaming, then tore off his maxtili and stood under the spray. The door was left open so he could watch the girl, and he paid no attention when she screamed again and ran to face the far wall, trembling. Her actions were so inexplicable that he did not attempt to understand, nor care what she did, as long as she did not try to escape again. When he pressed the button that made the soap foam it hurt, but his cuts felt better afterwards. Then he worked the handles to make the water the coldest it could be, before using the other control that blew warm air on him. While his body was drying he rinsed out his maxtili in the bowl-chair that she would not look at, then squeezed it out and put it back on.
For the first time since he had entered the door in the rock he had a moment to stop and think. Up until now events had pushed him and he had reacted. Now, perhaps he could get some answers to the multitude of questions that filled his head.
“Turn around and stop that noise,” he told the girl, and seated himself on the sleeping mat. It was very comfortable.
Her fingers were splayed against the wall, as though she were trying to push her way through it, and she remained that way while she turned her head, hesitantly, to look behind her. When she saw him seated she turned to face him and stood stiffly, her hands clasped before her and her fingers turning over and over.
“That’s much better.” Her face was a white mask, her eyes red rimmed and set in black circles from the continual crying. “Now tell me your name.”
“Watchman Steel.”
“All right, Steel. What do you do here?”
“I do my work, as it is ordered. I am a trepiol mar…”
“Not what you do, you yourself, but all of you, here in these tunnels under the mountains.”
She shook her head at the question. “I… I don’t understand you. We each do our ordered task, and serve the Great Designer as is our honor…”
“That means nothing, be quiet.” They talked the same way, yet some words were new, and he could not make her understand what he wanted to know. He would start from the beginning then, and build things up slowly. “And stop being frightened, I don’t want to hurt you. It was your Master Observer who sent for this thing that kills. Sit down. Here, sit beside me.”
“I cannot you…” She was too horrified to finish.
“I what.”
“You are… you have not… you are uncovered.”
Chimal could understand that. These cave people had a taboo about going about uncovered, just as the women in the valley must wear huipil to cover the bare upper parts of their bodies when they went to the temple. “I wear my maxtili,” he said, pointing to his loincloth. “I have no other covering here. If you have something I will do as you ask.”
“You are sitting on a blanket,” she said.
He found that there were layers to this sleeping mat, and the top one was made of soft and rich cloth. When he wrapped it around him the girl visibly relaxed. She did not sit by him, b
ut instead pressed a latch on the wall and a small, backless chair fell into position: she seated herself upon it.
“To begin,” he said. “You hide in the rock here, but you know of my valley and my people.” She nodded. “Good, so far. You know of us but we do not know of you. How is that?”
“It is ordained, for we are the Watchers.”
“And your name is Watchman Steel. Then why do you watch us in secret? What are you doing?”
She shook her head helplessly. “I cannot speak. Such knowledge is forbidden. Kill me, it is better. I cannot speak…” Her teeth clamped into her lower lip so hard that a thick drop of blood formed and trickled down her chin.
“That is a secret I will have,” he told her quietly. “I want to know what is happening. You are of the outside world beyond my valley. You have the metal tools and all the things that we are cut off from, and you know about us — but you keep hidden. I want to know why…”
A deep booming, like the striking of a great song, filled the room and Chimal was on his feet instantly, holding ready the thing that kills. “What is that?” he asked, but Watchman Steel was not listening to him.
As the sound came again she dropped to her knees and bent her head over her clasped hands. She was muttering a prayer, or incantation of some kind, and her words were lost in the greater sound. Three times the gong struck, and on the third stroke she held up the little box that hung [missing text in original] until one of her fingers was bare. On the fourth stroke she pressed down hard on the rod of metal so that it first slipped into the case, then slowly returned. Then she released the box and began to cover her finger again. Before she could do this, Chimal reached down and took her hand, turning it over. There was a small pattern of indentations in her flesh from the barbs on the metal rod, and even some drops of blood. The whole pad of her finger was covered with a pattern of tiny white scars. Steel pulled her hand away and quickly slipped the cloth over the exposed flesh.
“You people do many strange things,” he said, and took the box from her hand. She was pulled close to him when he looked in the little windows again. The numbers were the same as before — or were they? Had not in the last number on the right been a three? It was a four now. Curiously, he pushed on the rod, even though it hurt his fingertip. Steel cried out and clawed for the box. The last number was now five. He released it and she pulled away from him, cradling the object, and ran to the far end of the room.
“Very strange things,” he said, looking at the dots of blood on his finger. Before he could speak again there was a light tapping on the door and a voice said, “Watchman Steel!”
Chimal sprang silently to her side and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes closed and she shuddered and went limp. It could be a ruse on her part: he held her just as firmly.
“Watchman Steel?” the voice spoke again, and a second one said, “She is not here, open the door and look.”
“But think of privacy! What if she is here and we enter?”
“If she is here why doesn’t she answer?”
“She did not report for femio last yerfb, she may be ill.”
“The Master Observer ordered us to find her and said we must look in her quarters.”
“Did he say look for her in her quarters or at her quarters? There is a great difference in the meaning.”
“He said in.”
“Then we must open the door.”
As the door began to move tentatively open Chimal pulled it wide and kicked in the stomach the man who was standing outside. He collapsed at once, falling onto the killing thing which he held. There was a second man who tried to run, but he had no weapon and Chimal caught up with him easily and hit him with his fist on the side of the neck and knocked him down, then pulled him back to the room.
Chimal looked down at the three unconscious bodies and wondered what to do. More searchers would come soon, that was certain, so he could not stay here. But where could he hide in this strange place? He needed a guide — and the girl would be easiest to manage. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, then took the killing thing. The corridor was empty when he looked out, so he turned and went off swiftly in the opposite direction from which they had come.
There were more doors here, but he had to go a little distance at least before the search began. He took one turning, then another, every moment tense and waiting to meet someone. He was still alone. Another turning brought him to a short hall, carved from rock again, that ended in a large door. Rather than go back he leaned on the handle and swung it open. He had the weapon ready, but there was no one waiting inside. This was a very large cavern that stretched into the distance. It was broken into many aisles that held bins and countless shelves. A storehouse of some kind. This would do until the girl came to, then he would make her lead him to some safer place — and some food. Perhaps there was even food here, that was not an impossible idea. He ran far into the cavern, to a dark aisle where not much light reached, and dumped her onto the floor. She did not stir so he left her there while he prowled through the place, opening boxes and picking things from the shelves. In one of the bins he found many bundles of black cloth that had been sewn in strange shapes. When he pulled one out he realized that the dangling lengths were like arms and legs and that these were the clothes that the watchers wore. He took up two armloads and went back to the unconscious girl. She still had not moved. He dropped his load and, squatting under the light, tried to find the manner in which the garment was closed. The air here was cooler than in Steel’s room and he would not mind wearing something to keep his body warm.
After a good deal of experimentation, and cutting one of the garments to ribbons in his anger, he discovered that a small metal button, set under the wearer’s chin, could be made to move down if it was turned first. When it moved the cloth parted behind it, opening straight down between the legs and halfway up the back so that the garment almost split in two. He opened a number of the things this way, but threw them away in disgust when he found he could force his legs barely halfway into them. The garments must be made in different sizes and the ones he had found were all of the smallest. There had to be a way of finding the large ones: the girl would know. Chimal went to her but she still lay with her eyes closed, breathing hoarsely: her skin had a grayish tinge to it and, when he touched it, was cool and slightly damp. He wondered if anything was wrong. Perhaps she had been injured when she fell. Moved by curiosity, he twisted the button under her chin and pulled it down as far as it would go and spread the cloth aside. She was not injured as far as he could see. Her skin was white as paper and her ribs poked against it from beneath like hard knuckles. Her breasts were low mounds, like those of a half-grown girl, and he felt no stirrings of desire at all when he looked at her flaccid nakedness. There was a wide belt of some gray substance about her waist, secured at the front by a piece of cord threaded through the ends. He snapped the cord and pulled the belt off and saw that where it had gone around her body, her skin was red and inflamed. When he passed his finger along the inside of the belt it felt both rough and sharp, as though it were lined with many tiny cactus thorns. It was beyond understanding: he threw it aside and looked at the pads that held the flexible rods to her body. Perhaps she was very weak and the rods helped hold her up. But was everyone here that weak? When he pushed at the piece of metal that supported the back of her head it came away, pulling her hood with it. Her hair had been shaved close to her skull and was now only short, dark stubble. None of this could be understood easily. He closed her garment and put the hood into place as he had found it, then sat back on his heels and wondered about these things. He sat there patiently for some time until she stirred and opened her eyes. “How do you feel now?” he asked. She blinked rapidly and looked around before she answered. “I’m all right, I think. I feel very tired.”
This time Chimal used patience when he talked to her; if he hit her and she started crying again he would learn nothing. “Do you know what these are?” he asked, pointin
g to the pile of clothing.
“They are vabin — where did you get them?”
“Right here, there are many of them. I wanted one to cover my body but they are all too small.”
“They are numbered inside, there, see,” she sat up and pointed inside one of the garments.
“I’ll show you where they are. You find me the one I can wear.”
Steel was ready to help, but she staggered when she tried to rise. He helped her to her feet and in her discomfort she did not seem to be bothered by his touch. When he showed her the bins she checked the numbering and pointed to the last one. “In there, they are the biggest” She closed her eyes and turned her face away when he broke open a bundle and started to pull one of them on. It stretched to a smooth fit and felt warm.
“There, now I look like anyone else,” he said, and she glanced at him and relaxed a bit.
“May I go now?” she asked, hesitantly.
“Very soon,” he told her, lying. “Just answer a few questions first. Is there any food here?”
“I — don’t know. I was only in the warehouse one time before, a long time ago…”
“What is that word you used, about this place?”
“Warehouse. A place where things are stored.”
“Warehouse. I’ll remember the word.” And I will learn what a lot of other words mean before I leave this place. “Can you see if there is food here?”
“Yes, I suppose I can look.”
Chimal followed a few yards behind her, ready to leap and hold her if she tried to run, but stayed far enough away to give her an illusion of freedom. She did find some tightly sealed bricks that she told him were called emergency rations, things to be eaten when other food was not available. He took them back to the secluded corner he had first found before he opened them.
“It doesn’t taste like very much,” he told her after he had broken the transparent skirt and tasted the paste inside.
“It is very nutritious,” she told him, then hesitantly asked for some for herself. He gave a package to her after she had explained what this new word meant.
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