“You were on your way to becoming a translator, I believe,” said Weathereye. “A woman who spoke many tongues.”
I blushed. I had been going on and on, sounding like my own didactibot! “That was long ago,” I said. “Some days it is hard to remember. I apologize for seeming imperious. You probably know all this far better than I…”
“Not at all,” said Lady Badness. “We know little or nothing about the Hrass. We are human followers, our fates inextricably interwoven with your own.”
“Do I set the destruct?” Ella May asked.
“I should think so,” said Lady Badness rather sadly. “If they find it, we can’t get it back.”
I said, “We can work our way up the hill among the tombs, those big pottery jars that contain the bones of the dead. That is, I suppose they are bones by now. There’s been no room on Beelshi for new ones for a very long time, or so I’ve heard. They chain the door to the room, so we’ll need something…”
“I have the proper tool,” said Ella May. She turned with a grin, displaying a small tool clasped in one hand. “Are we ready?”
“Just have to fix my nose,” I commented, doing so and with quick strokes of my fingers blending the paint around the edges. “I can see you’re amused by this, but I can’t tell why. Beelshi is terrible and full of pain. I don’t like going back there.”
“We are not amused, dear lady,” said Mr. Weathereye. “We are simply delighted with you, which is quite another thing. Your resourcefulness, your determination, both do you credit.”
The four of us left the ship with me leading. When I looked back, it seemed to me two Hrass followed me, muttering, scurrying, glancing around quite as authentically as I could have desired. Ella May stayed between them, making do with a long cape and a scuttling walk. The Hill of Beelshi was to our left, across a well-traveled road and an open area of fields that might be fenced. If so, I would rely upon whatever tool the young woman carried to get us through.
We waited for the road to clear, then scurried across it without incident.
“Who is Ella May?” I panted to Lady Badness.
“She’s a member of the Siblinghood of Silence. Have you heard of that?”
“I don’t think so, no. What do I call her, Sibling?”
“That’s considered quite proper, yes. But she would probably prefer to be called simply Ella May, since you’re probably related to one another.”
I had time for only one astonished look at the elderly person before resuming my scuttle. Beyond the road were fences, quite a number of them, but Ella May had only to touch them with the tool, whatever it was, and a sizable hole appeared.
We approached Beelshi on the side opposite the one I had climbed before. There were no guards. Presumably, all the guards were out hunting for Miss Ongamar, which thought offered fleeting amusement. Once among the funerary jars, I paused, allowing us all a brief rest. The distance had not been far, the terrain not challenging, but the skittering mannerisms took both concentration and energy. We worked our way upward, pausing outside the upper ring of temples and mausolea while I located the building I had spied from before.
When I pointed it out, Ella May whispered, “Since there’s no one here, I suggest we go straight across. It’s quickest.”
I hesitated, my agitation no doubt plain on my face.
“What?” demanded Mr. Weathereye.
“You see that tall stone, the one that looks like a person hunched over the stone of sacrifice. I’ve seen its eyes. I got the strong impression that it could see.”
“And you think it might utter an alarm?”
“I don’t know. If I were here alone, however, I would work around behind it to the place I want to be, then go in very quickly, closing the door tightly behind me.”
“I see no reason to doubt your counsel,” Mr. Weathereye murmured. “Let us do so.”
We were stopped in our tracks by a cacophony of shouts from the foot of the hill behind us. Ella May slipped away to a vantage point and returned almost immediately. “They have mechanical scent detectors down there, they’ve picked up our trail. I suggest, watching stone or no watching stone, we run for it!”
We did so, rushing across the rough pavement like so many cockroaches, I thought, harkening back to what vermin were left on Earth. Humans and cockroaches. As we crossed before the tall stone, I glanced up to see the red glare of its eyes fastened on me. The creased rock ridges of the mouth opened to emit a huge, stony voice. No one needed a translation, though I made one automatically. “Here, here, here it is!”
Within moments we were up the steps of the mausoleum, Ella May applied her tool to the chain, we pulled the door open, closed it firmly behind us and bolted it with the three huge bolts that were obviously well and frequently used, for they bore no rust and slid into their sockets with a satisfying thwack.
Ella May was facing the shimmering pool of light. She went toward it, thrust her hand in, drew it out again, then tried the same with the black pool, only to leap back with a choked oath.
“Way-gates,” said Ella May. “One comes in, one goes out, and the black one is obviously the one that comes in.”
The other gate, the shimmering one, had great stacks of empty cages beside it, along with heaped kegs of treasure.
“Read the meaning of this,” demanded Weathereye of his female companion, gesturing at their surroundings.
“It says trade,” said Lady Badness. “Treasure sent through this gate, creatures returned through this gate. What Miss Ongamar has seen is the key: The K’Famir were paying for human beings to be
