THE VEIL OF ILLUSION
Perhaps his was that of a prisoner, but Shann was too to press for an explanation. He was to be left alone in the circular, but roofless, room of the to which they had him. There was a thick mat-like in one corner, for the length of his body, but than any he had rested on since he had left the Terran the of the Throgs. Above him those of light the stars. He at them until they all ran together in like the on Warlockian bodies; then he slept—dreamlessly.
The Terran with all his alert; some might have that of himself and his surroundings. There had been no in the star pattern still overhead; no one had entered the chamber. Shann rolled over on his bed, that all his had vanished. Just as his mind was active, so did his also respond to his demands. He was not aware of any or thirst, though a length of time must have passed since he had his from the world.
In of the of the air, his had on his body. Shann got to his feet, trying to order the sorry of his uniform, to be on the move. Though to where and for what purpose he not have answered.
The door through which he had entered closed, to to his push. Shann back, the to the top of the partition the rooms. The were with the of a sea shell's interior, but the which had been with him since his to accept such a minor obstacle.
He two test leaps, times his the well the top of the partition. Shann himself together as might a cat and the third time, into that every last of strength, and will. He it, though his arms as the weight of his from his hands. Then a scramble, a over the top, and he was on the wall, able to study the of the building.
In shape, the was anything he had on his home world or in any of the tri-dee records of Survey to him. The rooms were either or oval, each from the next by a passage, so that the was that of ten of from a of one large chamber, all with the and a limited amount of furnishings.
As he on the narrow perch, Shann no other movement in the nearest line of rooms, those by with his own. He got to his to walk the of the upper toward that which was the of the Warlockian—palace? town? dwelling? At least it was the only on the island, for he see the of that soft it about. The itself was symmetrical, a perfect oval, too perfect to be a natural of and rock.
There was no day or night here in the cavern. The light from the the same, and that was the by a soft from the walls. Shann the next room in line, to see it. To all the was the same as the one he had just left; there were the same walls, a thick against the side, and no it was in use or had not been entered for days.
He was on the next of when he that in the air, the very familiar of wolverines. Now it provided Shann with a as well as a promise of allies.
The next bead-room gave him what he wanted. Below him Taggi and Togi and forth. They had already to the sleeping which had been the chamber's single furnishing, and their was none too certain. As Shann well above their range of vision, Taggi against the opposite wall, his no on the of its surface. They were as as if they had been into a fishbowl, and they were not taking to it kindly.
How had the animals been here? Down that water by the same unknown method he himself had been until that almost in the center of the flood? The Terran did not that the doors of the room were as as those of his own the corridor. For the moment the were safe; he not free them. And he was that if he any of his native jailers, it would be at the center of that wheel of rooms and corridors.
Shann no attempt to the animals' attention, but on along his path. He passed two more rooms, empty, in no way from those he had already inspected; and then he came to the chamber, four times as big as any of the and with a much light.
The Terran crouched, one hand on the surface of the partition top as an additional balance, the other his stunner. For some his had not him. Perhaps they they had no to his off-world weapon.
"Have you wings?"
The in his brain, with them a of to all his to the level of a child's steps. Shann his of pure irritation. To a of was to open a door for them. He where he was as if he had "heard" that question, the room with all the he summon.
Here the were no barrier, but with in a regular pattern. And in each of the rested a skull, a skull. Only the of those were familiar; for just so had looked the great purple-red where the from the sockets. A had been into a skull—by design or nature?
And upon closer the Terran see that there was a among these skulls, a of from to row, a of outline, by the of time.
There was also a table of black, from the on which were not more than a very high, so that from his present the appeared to on the itself. Behind the table in a row, as might a customer, three of the Warlockians, seated cross-legged on mats, their hands them. And at the a fourth, the one he had on the island.
Not one of those rose to view him. But they that he was there; they had the very he had left the room or in which they had him. And they were so very sure of themselves.... Once again Shann a of anger. That same patience with its of which had him to Warlock his moves now. The Terran down, landing on his feet, the three the table, well over them as he erect, yet no of from that physical fact.
"You have come." The as if they might be a part of some formula. So he in and aloud.
"I have come." Without waiting for their bidding, he into the same cross-legged pose, them now on a more equal level across their black table.
"And why have you come, star voyager?" That to be a from all three than any questioning.
"And why did you me?" He hesitated, trying to think of some of address. Those he which were to their on other worlds when to the now him. "Wise ones," he chose.
Those yellow no emotion; his no of on their faces.
"You are a male."
"I am," he agreed, not just what that had to do with either or his of the past.
"Where then is your thoughtguider?"
Shann puzzled over that conception, at its meaning.
"I am my own thoughtguider," he returned stoutly, with all the he manage to put into that reply.
Again he met a yellow-green stare, but he a in them. Some of their had ebbed; his reply had been as a into a pool, sending out to the surface of serenity.
"The star-born one speaks the truth!" That came from the Warlockian who had been his contact.
"It would appear that he does." The agreement was measured, and Shann that he was meant to "overhear" that.
"It would seem, Readers-of-the-rods"—the middle one of the at the table spoke now—"that all do not our pattern of life. But that is possible. A male who thinks for himself ... unguided, who perhaps! Or who can the truth of dreaming! Strange must be his people. Sharers-of-my-visions, let us the Old Ones this." For the time one of those moved, the from Shann to the ranks of the skulls, at one.
Shann, for any wonder, did not his when the of that particular moved, from its small compartment, and through the air to settle at the right-hand of the table. Only when it had safely did the of the Warlockian move to another on the other of the room, this time up from close to level a time-darkened to the left of the table.
There was a third shifting from the storehouse, a last to place the other two. And now the native from her to a bowl of green crystal. One of her seniors took it in hands, making a of it to all three skulls, and then over its at the Terran.
"We shall the rods, man-who-thinks-without-a-guide. Perhaps then we shall see how your are—to be to your using, or to you for your impudence."
Her hands the bowl from to side, and there was an from its as if the there. Then one of her and gave a quick to the of that container, out upon the table a of each an or so long.
Shann, at the in bewilderment, saw that in of the of that the small had spread out on the blank surface to a design in and color. And he how that had been accomplished.
All three of the Warlockians their to study the of the sticks, their also, her less well than her elders'. And now it was as if a had the Terran and the aliens, all of which had been with him since he had entered the skull-lined was cut off.
A hand moved, making the pattern—braceleting and up the arm—flash fire. Fingers the into the bowl; four of yellow to Shann once more, but the of their still held.
The Warlockian took the bowl from the who it, for a long moment with it her palms, Shann with an stare. Then she came toward him. One of those at the table put out a hand.
This time Shann did not master his start as he the voice which had not been his own. The at the left hand on the table, by its color the of those from the niches, was moving, moving its and then snapped, a which might have been a word or two.
She who would have the Warlockian's advance, her hand. Then her in an gesture. Shann came to the table, but he not himself near that skull, though it had stopped its of speech.
The bowl of was offered to him. Still no message from mind to mind, but he at what they wanted of him. The was not to the touch as he had expected; it was warm, as might feel. And the about two of the interior, all mixed together without any order.
Shann on the the Warlockian had used the toss. She had offered the bowl to the in turn. The skulls! But he was no of skulls. Still the bowl close to his chest, Shann looked up over the at the star map on the of the cavern. There, that was Rama; and to its left, just a little above, was Tyr's where the world of his birth, and of which he had only good memories, but of which he was a part. The Terran the bowl to that spot of light which marked Tyr's sun.
Smiling with a twist, he the bowl, and on of pure he offered it to the that had chattered. Immediately he that the move had had an electric upon the aliens. Slowly at first, and then faster, he to the bowl from to side, the slipping, mixing within. And as he it, Shann it out over the of the table.
The Warlockian who had him the bowl was the one who it on the bottom, a rain of splinters. To Shann's astonishment, mixed as they had been in the container, they once more a pattern, and not the same pattern the Warlockians had earlier. The them vanished; he was in touch mind to mind once again.
"So be it." The center Warlockian spread out her four-fingered hands above the needles. "What is read, is read."
Again a formula. He a of answer from the others.
"What is read, is read. To the the dream. Let the be for what it is, and there is life. Let the the falsely, and all is lost."
"Who can question the of the Old Ones?" asked their leader. "We are those who read the they send, out of their mercy. This is a thing they us do, man—open for you our own initiates' road to the of illusion. That way has been for males, who without set purpose and have not the ability to know true from false, have not the to their to the truth. Do so—if you can!" There was a of in that, with something else—stronger than distaste, not as as hatred, but not friendly.
She out her hands and Shann saw now, on a slowly palm, a such as the one Thorvald had him. The Terran had only one moment of and then came blackness, more than the dark of any night he had known.
Light once more, green light with an odd quality to it. The skull-lined were gone; there were no walls, no him. Shann forward, and his in sand, that smooth, which had the in the cavern. But he was he was no longer on that island, that cavern, though above him there was still a of roof.
The of the green to his left. Somehow he himself to turn and it. That would him to action. But Shann turned.
A veil, a of green. Material? No, or light. A from some so over his that its was in the upper gloom, a which was a he must cross.
With every nerve protesting, Shann walked forward, unable to keep back. He up his arm to protect his as he into that stuff. It was warm, and the gas—if it was—left no of on his skin in of its consistency. And it was no or curtain, for although he was already well into the murk, he saw no end to it. Blindly he on, unable to anything but the of green, now and again to go on one and the underfoot, at the of that footing.
And when he met nothing menacing, Shann to relax. His no longer labored; he no move to the or knife. Where he was and for what purpose, he had no idea. But there was a purpose in this and that the Warlockians were it, he did not doubt. The "initiates' road," the leader had said, and the was in his mind that he some test of devising.
A with a green veil—his memory awoke. Thorvald's dream! Shann paused, trying to how the other had this place. So he was Thorvald's dream! And the Survey officer now be in Shann's in turn, up into the nose of a skull-shaped mountain?
Green without end, and Shann in it. How long had he been here? Shann to time, the time since his into the water-world of the cavern. He that he had not eaten, drank, to do so either—nor did he now. Yet he was not weak; in fact, he had such energy as his body.
Was this all a dream? His in the a nightmare? Yet there was a pattern in this, just as there had been a pattern in the he had across the table. One to another with logic; he had that particular pattern he had come here.
According to the or of the Warlockian witch, his safety in this place would upon his ability to tell true from false. But how ... why? So he had done nothing walk through a green fog, and for all he knew, he might well be traveling in circles.
Because there was nothing else to do, Shann walked on, his pressing sand, from each step with a small sound. Then, as he to search for some of a path or road which might him, his ears the of noises—other small whispers. He was not the only in this place!
