The neuter shook its head. 'There is no such place, Lordsman. Surely you know that! But I forget - you struck your head. But let me think. I will try, because it is my duty as slaveface to you, but do not be angry if I fail. I am only thinkspeak to the fourth level.'
And now Blade was suddenly uneasy again. He gazed around the barren little pit. They were alone and desolate, and yet suddenly he knew it was not so.
The neuter was crouching, staring at the ground, obviously in deep thought.
Blade said: 'Is there danger, Moyna?'
Again surprise in the green eyes. 'Danger, Lordsman? That blow on your head was surely a great one. Of course there is danger. There is always danger in Tharn. Much danger for both of us, now. If I am missed and cannot explain to Honcho he will destruct me. If you are taken you will be sent back to the Cage and...but you must know, Lordsman.'
Blade was silent. For the moment he was more dependent on the neuter than he liked to admit.
Moyna raised its head and looked around at the pit in which they stood. It looked at Blade and smiled. 'I cannot thinkspeak beyond the fourth level, as I said to you, but it is possible that in this place, because it is low lying, we have not yet been seen on the spiscreens. I do not say this is so, Lordsman, but it is possible. One reason I say it is possible is because Honcho has not yet sent soldier-beasts to capture us. If we are on the spiscreens he would have done so by now. So if we are swift we may yet escape. Follow me, Lordsman.'
It was, Blade admitted, pretty good reasoning. Thinkspeak at fourth level turned out a pretty intelligent neuter. For which, he thought with no sense of blasphemy, let us thank whatever Tharnian Gods there were.
Moyna was clawing at the side of the pit with his hands, digging like a dog after a buried bone. Soon enough of the gravel was cleared to reveal a round trapdoor made of what appeared to be plastic. It was thick and opaque and emitted a ringing sound when Moyna struck it. Yet it was not metal.
Moyna pulled the trapdoor open on a single hinge. Somewhere inside a light glowed. The neuter motioned to Blade to enter. 'Quickly Lordsman! Before we are picked up on the spiscreens.'
Blade went down stairs cut into stone. He was in a narrow tunnel floored with stone and so high that he did not have to stoop.
'What is this place, Moyna?'
The neuter was fitting the trapdoor back into place. It turned to Blade and smiled, shrugging. 'I said I am only fourth level, Lordsman. So I can not retain much of kronoswrite. I found this place by accident one day, while I was searching for a sled of mani that one of the ceboids had stolen and hidden. They are most cunning at times. Anyway I found this place and explored it, and then I forgot it until this time. I did not memthink or thinkspeak of it, because it is not of my level.'
Blade made himself be patient. 'But you know something of it. What?' He was peering down the tunnel, trying to find the source of light. There did not appear to be any source. Yet the light was there, luminous, misty white, floating like a will-o'-the-wisp before them as they made their way along the narrow way.
Moyna led the way. It said: 'I only know that this place was made long ago, in the time of the great wars, when the Pethcines broke into Tharn from the Gorge and ravaged the land. That much is instilled at fourth level. And a little more. It is in kronoswrite that the survivors, even the Queen Goddess herself, with the High Priestess and some of the Lordsmen, hid in such a place as this for many kronos until a way could be found to defeat the Pethcines. That is all I know, Lordsman Blade. When your brain is well from the blow you will know all, of course.'
'Of course,' Blade agreed. And smiled inwardly. He was a pretty big boy to have to go back to school, to start from scratch, but that was exactly what he must do.
They walked on and on. The elusive light danced on ahead of them. For the first time Blade felt a little cold. Moyna did not seem to be affected.
'Where does this tunnel go, Moyna?'
'I do not know, Lordsman. When I was here before, the only time, I came only as far as a garrison room. It is just ahead now. Beyond that I did not venture. But I have some small capacity to guessthink, only a little, and it may be that this tunnel leads on to one of the Gorge Towers. It is from the Towers that the Pethcines are observed and kept in check, as the Lordsman will remember when he is well.'
'Of course,' agreed Blade.
The tunnel widened abruptly into a large chamber. The light that had been dancing on ahead of them now centered itself in the chamber and hung there, a glowing blob of effulgence. Blade approached the light and thrust his hand into the periphery of radiance. He felt a tingling, a mild shock, and drew back his hand. Electricity of some sort!
The neuter was watching him, its slender hands on almost nonexistent hips. Its features registered surprise as Blade thrust his hand into the light, but it said nothing.
In the exact center of the large chamber was a circular plaque, or pad, set into the floor. It was of the same opaque, plastic-like substance that Blade had seen before. It occurred to him that Tharnians did not know or understand metal, or had no use for it.
Blade pointed to the circular pad. It was about six feet in diameter. 'What is that, Moyna?'
The neuter fell to its knees and clasped its hand in an attitude of prayer. 'No, Lordsman Blade! No! It is forbidden. I cannot speak of it.' It was cowering, averting its eyes now, refusing to look at Blade or the pad.
Blade shrugged and skirted the spot gingerly. Some sort of danger, but it need not concern him at the moment. He was much more interested in the various weapons and articles of clothing that hung on the walls or lay scattered about. Moyna must be right, Blade thought. At one time or another this must have been a guard room, a garrison of some sort.
Clothing! Blade was feeling the need of it. From a peg he selected what appeared to be a complete uniform. Everything was there, from high-thonged sandals to a plumed high-crested helmet. Again no metal. It was all made of the same dull opaque plastic material, light as a feather except for the helmet and breastplate. They were heavier and had a bronze tint.
Blade tapped the helmet with his finger. 'Of what is this made, Moyna? I have forgotten.'
