for an inexperienced climber.'
'How did you know I wouldn't kill myself when I woke up?'
'Well, we can never be sure. But generally speaking, a person doesn't choose the mountain if he's the suicidal type. That sounds funny, I know, but it's the case. Anyone can kill himself, but only the mountain offers complete and official oblivion. When you ascend Helicon, you never come back. There is no news and no body. It's as though you have entered another world-perhaps a better one. You're not giving up, you're making an honorable departure. At least, that's the way I see it. The coward kills himself; the brave or devout man takes the mountain.'
Much of this made sense to Sos, but he didn't care to admit it yet. 'But you said some turn back.'
'Most turn back.- They're the ones who are doing it for bravado, or as a play for pity, or just plain foolishness. We don't need that kind here.'
'What about that staffer out there now? If you don't take him in, where will he go?'
Tom frowned. 'Yes, I'm afraid he really means to give up.' He raised his voice. 'Bill, you agree?'
''Fraid so,' the- man addressed called back. 'Better finish it; there's another at the base. No sense having him see it.'
'This is not a pleasant business,' Tom said, licking his lips with an anticipation that seemed to be, if not pleasure, a reasonable facsimile. 'But you can't maintain a legend on nothing. So-' He activated another panel, and wavy crosshairs appeared on the screen. As he adjusted the dials the cross moved to center on the body of the staffer. He pulled a red handle.
A column of fire shot out from somewhere offscreen and engulfed the man. Sos jumped, but realized -that he could do nothing. For a full minute the terrible blaze seared on the screen; then Tom lifted the handle and it stopped.
A blackened mound of material was all that remained.
'Flamethrower,' Tom explained pleasantly.
Sos had seen death before, but this appalled him. The killing had been contrary to all his notions of honor; no warning, no circle, no sorrow. 'You mean-if I had?-?'
Tom faced him, the light from the screen reflecting from the whites of his eyes in miniature skull-shapes. This was the question he had been waiting for. 'Yes.'
Sosa was tugging at his arm. 'That's enough,' she said. 'Come on, Sos. We had to show you. It isn't all bad.'
'What if I decide to leave this place?' he demanded, sickened by such calculated murder.
She pulled him on. 'Don't talk like that. Please.'
So that was the way it stood, he thought. They had not been joking when they named this the land of the dead. Some were dead figuratively, and some dead inside. But what had he expected when he ventured upon the mountain? Life and pleasure?
'Where are the women?' he inquired as they traveled the long passages.
'There aren't many. The mountain is not a woman's way. The few we have are-shared.'
'Then why did you take my bracelet?'
She increased her pace. 'I'll tell you, Sos, really I will, but not right now, all right?'
They entered a monstrous workshop. Sos bad been impressed by the crazies' 'shop,' but this dwarfed it as the underworld complex dwarfed an isolated hostel. Men were laboring with machines in long lines, stamping and shaping metal objects. 'Why,' he exclaimed, 'those are weapons!'
'Well, someone has to make them, I suppose. Where did you think they came from?
'The crazies always-'
'The truth is we mine some metals and salvage some, and turn out the implements. The crazies distribute them and send us much of our food in return. I thought you understood about that when I showed you the accounting section. We also exchange information. They're what
