A door opened and they entered another room similar to the one in which Geo had awakened. As she was about to leave, Iimmi asked, “Wait. Can you tell us how to leave the room ourselves?”
“Why would you want to leave?” she asked.
“For exercise,” offered Geo, “and to observe the working of the monastery. Believe us, we are true students of Argo’s religion.”
“Simply press the wall with your hand, level at your waist, and the door will open. But you must not wander about the monastery. Rites which are not for your eyes are being carried out. Not for your eyes,” she repeated. “Strange, this is a phrase that has never left our language. Suddenly, confronted by people who can see, it makes me feel somehow …” she paused. “Well, that is how to leave the room.”
She stepped out, and the door closed behind her.
“Here,” said Iimmi, “this is what I wanted to show you.” On his bed were a pile of books, old, but legible. Geo flipped through a few pages. Suddenly he looked up at Iimmi.
“Hey, what are they doing with printed books?”
“Question number one,” said Iimmi. “Now, for question number two. Look here.” He reached over Geo’s shoulder and hastened him to one page.
“Why it’s the …” began Geo.
“You’re darn right it is,” said Iimmi.
Hymn to the Goddess Argo
Forked in the eye of the bright ash
there the heart of Argo broke
and the hand of the goddess would dash
through the head of flame, and the smoke.Burn the grain speck in the hand
and batter the stars with singing.
Hail the height of a man,
and also the height of a woman.The eyes have imprisoned a vision,
the ash-tree dribbles with blood.
Thrust from the gates of the prison,
smear the yew-tree with mud.
“That must be the full version of the poem I found the missing stanza to back in the library at Leptar.”
“As I was saying,” said Iimmi, “Question number two: what is the relation between the rituals of Hama and the old rituals of Argo. Apparently this particular branch of the religion of the Goddess underwent no purge. And no one at Olcse Olwnh was supposed to know about them.”
“I wonder why?” Geo asked.
“That is question number three.”
“How did you get a hold of them?”
“Well,” said Iimmi, “I sort of suspected they might be here. So I just asked for them. And I think I’ve got some answers to those questions.”
“Fine. Go ahead.”
“We’ll start from three, go back to one, and then on to two. Nice and orderly,” said Iimmi. “Why wasn’t anybody supposed to know about the rituals? Simply because they were so similar to the rituals of Hama. You remember some of the others we found in the abandoned temple? If you don’t, you can refresh your memory right here. The two sets of rituals run almost parallel, except for a name changed here, a color switched from black to white, a switch in the vegetative symbolism. I guess what happened was that when Hama’s forces invaded Leptar five hundred years ago, it didn’t take Leptar long to find out the similarity. From the looks of the City of New Hope, I think it’s safe to assume that at one time or another, say five hundred years ago, Aptor’s civilization was far higher than Leptar’s, and probably wouldn’t have had too hard a time beating her in an invasion. So when Leptar captured the first jewel, and somehow did manage to repel Aptor, the priests of Leptar assumed that the safest way to avoid infiltration by Hama and Aptor again would be to make the rituals of the two as different as possible from the ones of their enemy, Hama.
“The ghouls, the bats, they parallel the stories I’ve heard other sailors tell too closely to be accidents. How many people do you think have been shipwrecked on Aptor and gotten far enough into the place to see what we’ve seen, and then gotten off again to tell about it?”
“I can think of two,” said Geo.
“Huh?” said Iimmi.
“Snake and Jordde,” answered Geo. “Remember that Argo said there had been spies from Aptor before. And Jordde is definitely one, and I guess so is Snake.”
“True enough,” said Iimmi. “I guess that fits into Rule Number One.” He got up from the bed. “Come on. Let’s take a walk. I want to see some sunlight.” They went to the wall. Geo pressed it and a triangular panel slipped back.
When they had rounded four or five turns of hallway, Geo said, “I hope you can remember where we’ve been.”
“I’ve got a more or less perfect memory for directions,” Iimmi said.
Suddenly the passage opened onto steps, and they were looking out upon a huge, unrelieved white chamber. Down a set of thirty marble steps priestesses filed below them in rows, their heads fixed blindly forward.
At the far end was a raised dais with a mammoth statue of a kneeling woman, sculptured of the same effulgent, agate material. “Where do these women come from?” whispered Geo. “And where do they keep the men?”
Iimmi shrugged.
Suddenly, the figure of the blind Priestess was beside them.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Iimmi said, sensing her disapproval of their presence, “we didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but we are creatures who are used to natural day and night. We are used to fresh air, green things. This underground whiteness is oppressive to us and makes us restless. Is there any way that you could show us a way into the open?”
“There is not,” returned the blind Priestess quietly and motioned them to follow her from the chamber. “Besides, night is coming on and you are not creatures who relish darkness.”
“The night air and the quiet of evening is refreshing to us,” countered Iimmi.
“What do you know of the night,” answered the priestess with faint cynicism in her low voice. Now they reached the chapel where the friends had first met after their rescue.
“What can you tell us about the Dark God Hama?” Geo asked.
The blind Priestess shrugged, and sat down
