boots seemed magnified into a low roar by the echoes.
After what seemed hours, his outstretched hand touched something; he studied it with his fingertips, and decided it was a fold in the idol's cloak; he had missed the altar and hit the wall, off to the left. Cautiously, he felt his way along the fold until it swooped up out of reach, then moved on along the wall until he came to the idol's slippered feet, which he knew to be immediately behind the altar. He turned until he faced directly away from the wall, and peered into the darkness; he thought he could see the dim outline of the altar. He took a step forward and felt in front of him, reaching down to the height he estimated the altar to be; his hand brushed against a polished surface. Using both hands he groped about the altar-top and found the cloth-covered stone. He picked it up, cover and all, and tucked it under his cloak. Now he had only to get out of the temple undetected.
He knew that the concealed door to the antechamber was directly opposite the altar. He considered feeling his way along the wall until he found it, but rejected that idea; he might walk right into priests reentering the chamber, or at the very least be heard through whatever doorways they had departed by. Instead, he aimed himself by dead reckoning and set out across the floor.
Again, it seemed to take hours to cross; but at last an outstretched hand touched stone. He came up within inches of the wall, but could see only blackness; he felt along it with his hand, seeking a latch or seam or hinge. His left hand was occupied in holding the pilfered altar-stone under his cloak; it took a long time to cover an area with only his unencumbered right. He worked his way along, first three paces to the right, then twice that distance to the left, then back to the right once more; a feeling of desperation crept into him as his fingers found nothing but yard after yard of smooth stone.
Suddenly there was a sound behind him; he whirled, his right hand dropping automatically under his cloak to the hilt of his sword, but could see nothing in the darkness.
'If you return the stone you may go in peace, thief.' He recognized the voice as one of the priests. He made no reply.
'You cannot open the door; only the priests of Tema know its secret.'
Garth wondered how many were there, and how they had gotten so close to him without being heard; he judged the voice-for so far only one had spoken-to be ten, perhaps fifteen, not more than twenty feet away.
'Return the gem.'
He needed time to devise an escape. 'And if I do not?' he asked.
'Then you will die here.'
Garth adjusted his grip, hugging the crystal closer to him, and drew his sword. 'I have a counterproposal. You will open the door for me, or you will die, not I.'
There could be no doubt that the priest or priests had heard and recognized the scrape of steel on leather as the blade left its sheath; there was a pause before the voice spoke again.
'It is possible that you may kill one or two of us before you yourself perish; if so, we will die in the sure knowledge that we have served our goddess and will be admitted to her realm for all eternity. You, on the other hand, will die damned forever for your sacrilege. I ask again, return the stone; it is not too late. Return it, and we will yet let you depart peacefully, even though you have drawn a weapon in our sanctuary.'
Garth made no answer for a long moment, and the priest said nothing, apparently granting the thief time to consider the hopelessness of his position. The overman, however, was not considering options or the lack thereof, but rather was noticing that he could distinguish, very faintly, the outline of a lone figure a dozen feet in front of him. This was not the result of any adjustment; his eyes had long been at their extreme of sensivity. No, there was new light filtering in, the first dim gray of approaching dawn. That reminded him how long it had been since he last slept, and he suddenly felt weary even as he considered how the growing light would work to his advantage. The priests were undoubtedly accustomed to living almost entirely in darkness; they would not do well outside their temple in daylight, if he could once get out into the streets.
He wondered if the priest could see him at all; the light was not evenly distributed. Further, was he aware that he, himself, was visible? And it was now apparent that the priest was alone. Probably the lone man had been making a final inspection round of some sort, and tried to bluff out the intruder; unfortunately for him, his bluff was now ruined.
Knowing that he faced a single opponent, Garth finally struck upon a scheme.
'If I hand you the crystal, will you then open the door and let me go, unpursued?'
'Yes.'
'Will you swear it, by your goddess?'
'I swear it, by Tema.'
'Very well.' With a great show of reluctance, Garth held out the gem with his left hand, purposely extending his arm not directly toward the priest but a little to one side, as if he still could not see where the man was. His sword remained ready in his right hand.
The priest stepped forward, and carefully lifted the stone, using both hands. He stood for a moment, and Garth demanded, 'Now open the door.'
'Let me return the stone to the altar first.'
'No! You said you would open the door when I returned the stone.' He lifted his sword as if to slash blindly in front of him; although the light was actually growing steadily, and already permitted him to distinguish such details as the cracks in the floor and the folds of the priest's robe, he hoped to continue his ruse of blindness a few moments longer. He had no specific reason for it; he was merely snatching every advantage he could, as his training in war and statecraft had taught him.
'If you insist.' The priest tucked the crystal under one arm and crossed to the wall; his free hand brushed across the black stone surface and caught something Garth could not make out. With a considerable effort, the priest pulled; the section of wall swung open, and gray light poured in. Garth had forgotten that the great portal faced east, but such was the case; and although the sun was still below the horizon, the sky above it was already warmly pink. The spacious antechamber was much less ominous in the cold morning light than it had been by moonlight, merely a large, bare room, with half one wall opening onto a stair to the street.
Garth smiled with satisfaction. Moving with superhuman speed, he leapt across the few feet separating him from the priest; in scarcely a second from the opening of the door, his sword was at the man's throat.
'Now, O priest, you will give me back the stone. I have handed it to you, and you have opened the door; now I will take it again and go, unpursued,'
'No!'
'Yes.'
'You cannot take it!'
'You will die if you do not give it to me.'
'My brothers will find you.'
'What of your oath? You swore I would not be pursued.'
'No! I swore you would leave unpursued, not that there would be no pursuit after your departure. If you take the altar-stone, the followers of Tema will seek you out, wherever you go.'
'Perhaps. I will risk it. Now give me the stone, and I will go.'
'No!'
'Listen, fool, if you give me the stone I will leave you alive, and you may lead the pursuit; if you force me to kill you, there will be no one who knows who took the stone. It would be to my advantage to slaughter you out of hand, but that is not my wish. Give me the stone and live.'
'You could kill me anyway.'
'Why should I wait? Give me the stone!'
'No! Help! Brothers! Thief, murderer!' The priest began shouting at the top of his lungs. Disgusted, Garth grabbed for the crystal, and got a tenuous hold with the long fingers of his left hand; his superior reach had caught the human by surprise, and the priest's own grip slipped for an instant. That was all the time Garth needed; he snatched his hand back, the stone clutched as tightly as he could manage. With a scream that echoed and reechoed from the dome, the priest lunged for it, and automatically, without thinking, without meaning to, Garth reacted as a warrior reacts; he ran the man through, impaling him on his broadsword. Blood spattered the wall behind the priest, and Garth exclaimed in disgust, a wordless noise in his throat.
There was no doubt that the man was dead, or as good as dead; Garth's reflexes were as reliable as
