Then—silence.
Garth staggered to his feet, staring around. The cell was oddly familiar. He had been in it, or one like it, five years ago with Doc Willard. The silvery light came from the wall, and there was a grating in the door. That was all.
He reached the grating and peered out. Two Zarno were on guard not far away. The lock—it might be possible to pick it, Garth thought, but the silicate creatures were invulnerable. So that would do no good.
Captain Brown’s clipped voice said, “Where the hell are we, Garth?”
“Huh? Oh, you’re awake.” Garth laughed harshly. “You should have waked up half an hour ago. Not that it would have done any good—”
Brown stood up stiffly. “What d’you mean? What’s happened?”
The others were waking now. For a few moments the cell was a babble of questions. One of the Zarno came briefly to the grill in the door and looked in. Shocked quiet greeted him.
After he had gone, Garth took advantage of the silence to say, “I’ll tell you what’s been going on, and then I’m going to sleep. I’ll go to sleep anyway, unless I talk fast. I’m dead beat.”
Sampson squinted at the door. “Tough customers. Shoot, Garth. I’ve got a hunch we’re in a bad spot.”
“We are. Listen—” Briefly Garth explained what had happened.
There were questions and counter-questions.
“You can speak their lingo, eh?”
“That won’t help, Brown.”
“They can’t be invulnerable.”
“They are—to our weapons. Silicate life!”
“When will they—sacrifice us?” Paula asked, a little shaken, though she tried not to show it.
Garth shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I can talk ’em out of it. God knows. They worship the gods—the Ancients, I suppose—but they know we’re not gods. So that’s that.”
“Well—”
They talked inconclusively. Sampson casually wandered over to the door, found a twisted scrap of wire, and used it on the lock. After a while he called softly to the others.
“This thing’s a snap. It won’t keep us in here.”
Garth came over. “There are guards. It’s no use.”
One of the Zarno approached and peered in through the grill.
“Kharn has said you will not be hungry long. Tomorrow you will all die. You eat, like the creatures of the forest, do you not?”
“What’s he saying?” Sampson muttered.
“Nothing important.” Garth switched to the Ancient Tongue. “It will be dangerous to kill us. We are messengers of the gods.”
“We will believe that,” the Zarno said, “when one of the gods tells us so.” He nodded impassively and retreated.
Paula touched Garth’s arm. “Isn’t there any way—”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not.”
“There’s light here. There’s none in the other cities of the Ancients. That means the power-source still works here. If we can find it—”
Garth couldn’t look at her, knowing they were doomed to die the next day. He shrugged, turned away, and found an empty corner. Ignoring the others, he tried to relax on the hard floor. His brain just wasn’t working now. It was fagged out. He had a vague hunch that there might be a way out—but he was too exhausted to follow it up now. A few hours’ sleep was vital.
But he slept past dawn. When he awoke, he saw the others lying motionless, their eyes fixed in the blank stare of the Noctoli trance.
Glancing at the chronometer on Brown’s wrist, Garth figured swiftly. It was past dawn. That meant there was little time left in which to act—provided action was possible. But sleep had refreshed him, though his muscles still ached painfully. He was beginning to remember what his hunch had been.
When he and Doc Willard had been captives, there had been guards only at night. During the long Ganymedean day, none was necessary, for the Noctoli poison had been active then. By day, the Zarno thought, men of flesh were tranced and helpless. Unless—
Garth moved quietly to the door. Through the grill he saw the cave, empty of life. There were no guards. He was glad he had slept past dawn, so that the Zarno were able to believe him entranced like the others.
But what now? Escape? To where? There was still power in the lost city; perhaps the weapons of the Ancients still existed. Weapons stronger than guns to conquer the Zarno! But, regardless of that, it was necessary to find a hiding-place. This was the day of sacrifice.
Ironic thought—a hiding-place in an underground city teeming with the Zarno!
Garth shrugged. The door was locked, he discovered, and it took time to find the twisted wire Sampson had used. Even then, Garth was unable to manipulate the intricate tumblers. He scowled, chewing his lip, and eying the wire. Sampson’s skilled fingers were necessary.
He roused the red-haired giant and led him to the door. Sampson looked straight ahead, his eyes dull. He obeyed when Garth spoke—but that was all. Was his skill sufficiently instinctive to be used now?
There was only one way to find out. Garth put the wire in Sampson’s hand.
“Unlock the door.”
He had to repeat the command twice before Sampson understood. Then the big man bent, fumbling with the lock, working with agonizing slowness.
Hours seemed to drag past before Sampson straightened.
Garth tried the door. It opened. The first step was accomplished, anyhow. The others would be more difficult. He was unfamiliar with the underground city. How the devil could he evade the Zarno and find a hiding-place? Alone, he would have a better chance. But he had twelve companions to take with him.
He spoke to each of them. “Follow me. You understand? Follow me till I tell you to stop. Move as quietly as you can.”
Then he led them out of the cell.
The city, as he speedily learned, was a labyrinth. Luckily there were innumerable cross-passages. And all the cities of the Ancients had been built along a similar plan. Garth knew the layout of Chahnn, and that helped him now. But there were times when he had to move fast, and the others walked as though striding through water.
“Quick! In here! Fast!”
And they would
