nothing. At length, he inquired in civil tones, “Is anyone present? Or do I address myself alone?”
“You are not alone,” spoke a soft, slow voice near at hand, its owner’s gender and species impossible to judge. “No one need be alone. We are a family. I am Nefune. You are welcome among us.”
“I thank you. I am Farnol of Karzh, a traveler. I come here pursued by the pelgrane, and the shelter that you offer is most welcome.”
“The pelgrane is misguided. Its transgressions reflect simple ignorance. Perhaps, at some point in the future, great Vusq will be moved to vouchsafe insight.”
“Great Vusq?”
“Our deity, the blind god of future things, who teaches His worshippers how to live in the world that is coming, the world that is ours when the sun embraces death. It will be an abode of illimitable darkness,” Nefune continued in tones of intense fervor touched with exaltation, “of darkness without end, and immeasurable chill. We, the children of Vusq, prepare ourselves for the future reality. To this end, we live without light. The substance of our home excludes the vulgar rays and transient warmth of the doomed sun. When we must venture forth, we go blindfolded and sightless, in accordance with the will of Vusq. The more devout among us excise our eyeballs, and crush them to jelly upon the altar of Vusq. Those who perform this sacrifice are deemed blessed.”
“Admirable.” Farnol nodded invisibly. “Thus your sightlessness embodies foresight. A pretty paradox, but perhaps—”
His remark was interrupted by a ferocious thud that rocked the dome. A series of violent blows followed, punctuated by savage cries.
“It is the pelgrane,” Farnol observed uneasily. “She tries her strength upon your house.”
“Unhappy, benighted creature. She squanders time and vitality. The substance of our dome enjoys Vusq’s blessing. You are safe here, Farnol of Karzh. You may stay as long as you wish. In fact, I urge you to abide here among us, and learn the ways of Vusq.”
“
The voices — multiple voices, their number indeterminate — hissed softly in the dark. Unseen hands patted his shoulders, his back. The light, corpse-cold, almost caressing touches raised gooseflesh along his forearms. He did not allow himself to recoil.
“But stay, we fail in hospitality,” came the voice of Nefune. “No doubt you are hungry and weary, Farnol of Karzh. Will it please you to share our meal?”
“It will, and I thank you,” returned Farnol, with feeling.
“Let us then repair to table, where we shall refresh ourselves and extol the greatness of Vusq. This way.”
Nefune took his arm and led him forward. He saw nothing, but heard the light footsteps of others clustering close about him, and often he felt their icy hands patting his limbs and face. They seemed to walk a considerable distance, their path winding and twisting through a frigid void.
“Your home is remarkably generous in extent,” observed Farnol.
“Ah, the darkness has a way of expanding space. It is a glorious thing, the darkness — comforting, profound, and holy. Those who seek the way of the future soon recognize the beauty of their chosen existence.”
“
“Those who tender the greatest gift in turn receive the greatest reward,” Nefune continued. “Great Vusq delights in the sacrifice of devoted eyes. It is a matter worthy of thought, Farnol of Karzh. Here is our table. You may seat yourself.”
Farnol obeyed. Exploratory groping soon taught him that the table consisted of nothing more than a mat of rough woven stuff spread out on the floor. He detected neither plate nor utensil.
“Reach out and avail yourself of Vusq’s bounty,” Nefune urged. “It is His gift to His servants.”
Extending his hand, Farnol encountered the lip of a metal trough containing quantities of heavy, chilly porridge or gruel. Tentatively he tasted, and found the porridge innocent of flavor. It possessed weight, volume, exceptional density, and coldness; nothing more. Such was his hunger that he wolfed handful after handful; and such the cold mudslide power of the meal that the fires within were quelled, for the moment.
All around him in the dark, he heard the discreet sucking and smacking of polite ingestion. He heard too a plenitude of prayers, praise, invocations, and intense exhortations, the last of which he deflected as gracefully as he knew how.
The meal concluded, and Nefune spoke again. “Farnol of Karzh, the devout among us go now to the altar, there to perform our ritual ablutions and tender our offerings to Vusq. For all his greatness, the Lord of the Dark Future despises not the heartfelt gifts of His servants. Will you come now to the altar? There you may learn its size, contour, and feel, and thus grow accustomed.”
“I thank you, but no,” Farnol returned politely. “You have offered me every kindness, but it is time for me to take my leave. I’ve a task to complete, and time presses.”
“Leave? By no means!” Nefune’s hushed tones conveyed exclamatory ardor. “Come, reflect. Doubtless the pelgrane awaits without. Will you deliver yourself freely unto her hunger?”
Farnol had no answer.
“Better by far to tarry among us. Come, it is time for the evening rest. Sleep here tonight, and perhaps the dreams that Vusq sends will touch your heart.”
“
“Very well. Here tonight.” He strove to conceal his reluctance. “Great Vusq’s devotees are generous.” Cold, weightless hands upon him again, and they conducted him to a sleeping mat too flat and thin to be called a pallet. He stretched himself out upon the mat, fully expecting to lie awake for comfortless hours, but sleep found him at once.
He woke blind and chilled to the bone. He had no idea how long he had slept, no idea whether it was day or night in the world outside the dome; the darkness confused such issues. The cold space around him was quiet. He caught a faint hiss of breathing, a soft rustle of movement, an unidentifiable vibration, nothing more. Very carefully, in nearly perfect silence, he rose to his feet. Arms outstretched before him, advancing with hesitant steps, he groped in search of the curving exterior wall. When he found it, he would feel his way along the circumference until he located the exit. The pelgrane might or might not await him; at that moment, he did not care. Every instinct bade him depart the house of Vusq’s faithful without delay.
Once his foot encountered a hard object that thrummed under the impact. Once he felt a slippery surface beneath him, and once he brushed something flabby and yielding that gurgled softly. Then his palm met a very smooth, seemingly glasslike barrier, and he knew that he had found the wall. Noiselessly he followed its curving course, fingers questing for a seam or indentation disclosing the location of a door.
The darkness breathed, and dozens of light, cold hands closed upon him. Soft voices spoke.
“Ah, it is our new brother, Farnol of Karzh.”
“He has not yet acquired the ways of darkness. He is confused.”
“Perhaps he wishes to tender an offering unto divine Vusq. He seeks the altar, but cannot find his way.”
“Let us guide him. Fear not, Farnol of Karzh. We shall lead you to the altar, where change awaits. We are happy to assist a convert.”
“You misunderstand,” Farnol informed them. “I seek only the exit. I wish to resume my journey.”
“We go now to the altar.”
In vain Farnol argued and struggled. They lovingly dragged and propelled him through the dark until his knees bumped a solid, flat-sided structure, and his palm descended upon a level surface caked with some substance suggestive of desiccated jelly. Jerking his hand back, he exclaimed, “Understand that I am not temperamentally suited to the monastic life, and release me!”
“Peace, Farnol of Karzh. Know that divine Vusq cherishes you.”
Farnol’s desperate reply was lost. A great crash resounded overhead, and the dome shuddered. He looked up to behold a sliver of warm-colored light, visible through a freshly formed crack in the ceiling. As he watched, the crack widened to a fissure, the light strengthened, and chirping cries of consternation arose on all sides. A series of violent blows battered the roof, and a great rent opened, through which was visible the form of a pelgrane, assaulting the structure with a sharp-edged rock of estimable size.
Wrenching himself free of the astounded faithful, Farnol cast a quick glance around him. He beheld a company of fungus-white, hairless beings, with tiny countenances dominated by the enormous, palely protuberant
