The Five Gold Bands

darting in a thousand directions like glass spears-back and forth, reflecting in sprays of pure primitive color, flickering, dazzling as the boat sank on snoring old jets.

As they reached the mouth of the gap there was a sudden swushhhh and a guard boat hung alongside.

'What's your business?' asked a Shaul with a black star painted on the inside of his hood.

'We're journalists from Earth and we want to photograph the home of the dead Son.'

'Do you have a Decency Certificate from the Office of Rites?'

Paddy shoved his head forward. 'Decency Certificate? Of course I'm decent, you insolent thrush! And I'll come aboard you in another minute.'

Fay nudged him. 'He means a permit That's their way of speaking.'

Paddy subsided with ill grace.

Fay said cheerily to the corporal, 'No, we don't have any permit but all we want to do is take a few pictures.'

The corporal said stiffly, 'I'm sorry but-'

A Shaul in civilian dress, standing beside him, muttered into his hood. The corporal stared at Paddy intently, 'When did you arrive?'

'Yesterday.'

The corporal dialed a communicator, spoke at some length, nodded. He turned to Fay and Paddy. 'The orders are to let you down.' Thanks,' said Fay.

Paddy whispered, 'The suspicious devils, they want to trap us and I'll bet you they watch us through telescopes all day.'

Fay said, 'It's a ticklish feeling-almost as if we're trapped in this hole.'

'Hush now,' said Paddy. 'There's still the Blackthorn luck on our side.'

Down into the glistening gap and they saw that the walls were lined with great banks of crystals, hanging like bunches of grapes. As Almach rose in the sky, the colors glanced and twinkled, wove magic nets across the gap, tangled meshes of near-tangible fire. On a ledge a thousand feet below the surface sat a great house, a hall with two wide white-columned wings in a wide garden of the peculiar crystalline plants.

Swooping from nowhere the guardship drew alongside again.

'As a courtesy due journalists from Earth you have been extended freedom of the house. The bereaved family is not at home but the servants have been instructed to assist you. They will serve you what food and drink you wish.'

He bowed with sardonic courtesy and the guard-ship rose swiftly as if it had been jerked up by a cable.

'Rats in a trap,' said Paddy.

'Probably they don't suspect us directly,' Fay said thoughtfully. 'They think we might possibly be some sort of accomplices. They're giving us plenty of rope. Well, we'll worry about it later. It's a chance we have to take.'

They landed on the terrace amid utter silence. The cool space of the house opened in front of them and through the columns they could see the rich furniture for which the Shauls were famous-chairs of every height and inclination, walls upholstered in peach-colored floss.

There was no door, no glass-merely a curtain of gripped-air to exclude insects and dust. It parted in front of their faces with a slight sensation of bursting as if they had walked through a soap bubble.

The major-domo, bowed slightly and for the next hour conducted them about the villa, answering their questions but volunteering no information. Clearly he considered the task beneath his dignity. Paddy and Fay snapped pictures at random.

The area of interest for Paddy and Fay was the terrace behind the house. Shielded from the polychrome radiance of the chasm it was bathed in a soft cool light from the sky. At the rear the cliff rose, faced to a height of fifty feet with two-foot squares of aventurine quartz.

Involuntarily both counted three from the right, two up.

There it was, a clear yellowish slab, flecked with a million flitting spangles.

A womanservant appeared to announce lunch and the major-domo conducted them to a small table set with synthetic fruits, a platter of toasted fungus, yeast wafers and rods of a porous dark-brown substance which crunched and tasted like meat.

Paddy was gloomy. Twice he looked at Fay, started to speak but was deterred by her warning frown. The major-domo served them a light pink wine, which they carried to the railing around the terrace, where they stood overlooking the gulf.

Fay said without moving her lips, 'I feel as if every word is being picked up and broadcast to a desk where three or four Shauls are listening in dead silence.'

'So do I,' muttered Paddy.

Fay sipped her wine, stared across the color-shot emptiness. 'We can't do anything more today.'

'No, let's get back to Aevelye and our ship.'

As they cleared the mouth of Fumighast Ventrole the guardship bellied down, pulled alongside and the Shaul corporal requested the film pack of the camera for censorship purposes.

Glumly Paddy slid off the cartridge, handed it across the gap.

'It will be returned tomorrow,' said the corporal.

Their ship had been searched. Nothing was out of place. Indeed the strongest indication of the search was a rather marked neatness to the cabin.

'Ah, the vandals!' Paddy ground between his teeth. Now I wonder if-'

He met Fay's eye. She gave him such a brilliant glance that he subsided, and did not more than mutter under his breath.

For half an hour they spoke nothing but generalities. Then, with Almach settled in its flame of lavender and orange light, they left the boat, walked to the edge of the field, looked out across the great gorge, which was already filled with pastel shadows and glowing tendrils of mist.

Fay said, 'They may not have the ship tapped for sound and there may not be a spy cell peeking at us somewhere- but as you know they're suspicious creatures and they're probably overlooking no chances. It seemed to me that their search job was just clumsy enough for us to notice and then start frantically after any secrets we might have had.'

'Fay,' said Paddy gloomily, 'we're at a dead end. We're at a standstill. Any pictures we take they'll scrutinize with eyes like currycombs. If we try to bust down there with our ship, take our pictures and lambaste out again, they'll have us bottled up like the Green Imp of Ballycastle.'

Fay, rubbing her chin with a pale finger, said nothing. Paddy felt a sudden surge of the protective instinct. Glancing down at the blonde head beside him he wrapped an arm about her shoulders.

She said, 'Paddy, I've got an idea…'

Paddy looked off into the night. 'I've got one too.'

She looked up quickly. 'What's yours?'

'You tell me yours first.'

'Well-you know that in all probability the Shaul data has been engraved or painted somehow in that aventurine quartz in a fluorescent dye which glows at the proper frequencies.'

'Sure-of course.'

'Presumably the whole wall glows-but only the single plate will have a legible message when illuminated by the particular four frequencies.'

'Right.'

'Tomorrow night we'll do some night photography-hundreds of shots.'

'Ah,' said Paddy, smiling whimsically down into her face, 'and what a brain you hide behind that sober little face!'

She laughed. 'Now, what's your idea?'

Paddy said with a stammer, 'I want you to marry me, Fay.'

'Now, Paddy Blackthorne,' said Fay, 'you don't want to marry me any more than you want to marry that Shaul corporal.'

'Ah yes, I do-and never say I don't,' said Paddy energetically.

'Pooh, it's propinquinty-animal spirits. A day ashore on Earth and you'll have forgotten all about me.'