A shout of pure terror rose to Ian’s lips, but he bit down on it, as much afraid of the keepers as of this fall into the unknown.
There was a soft light about him, and his bottom struck a yielding surface. He fell backwards head over heels, then rolled and came up to his feet as his father had taught him, looking about him in panic. He was inside the Stone Egg!
Outside, the keepers must surely be looking for him, calling to one another and running about—but he heard nothing except a whisper of moving air, and a faint hum, so faint that he felt it more than heard it. It flashed through his mind that this must be a safe place that the dwarves had built, but when he looked more closely at his surroundings, he found them completely strange, alien. Surely the dwarves could never have grown this odd golden moss beneath his feet, the great chair that looked to be of leather with a row of peculiar square windows in front of it and a greater square above—but windows that were blank and empty, showing only the gray of the rock’s surface. For a moment, Ian strained to understand—what good was a window that showed only the inside of a shell?
“Safety Base Forty-three ready to function as you may command.”
Ian hunched down into a ball, his staff raised to defend himself, looking about wildly—but he could not see the person who had spoken.
The voice spoke again, deep and resonant, a man’s voice, though with a strange lack of feeling. “This facility is completely automated. Food and drink are prepared from cryogenic stock. Armament is activated. Communications facilities are functional. Safety Base Forty-three is at your disposal.”
The voice was suddenly silent. Ian held himself ready, looking about, waiting for it to speak again, to demand he say what he was doing there. It was a rich voice, a lord’s voice. Surely it would demand to know why a mere serf had invaded its hideaway…?
The chamber was still; the voice was silent. No one spoke, no one moved.
Slowly, Ian uncurled himself; more slowly still, he stood up, looking about at the rich surroundings, his pulse beginning to slow. The voice must be that of a guardian spirit—for certainly, inside this egg, there was scarcely room enough for two grown men. No one could hide from him.
Except for the guardian spirit.
The flesh on his back crawled. He looked behind him, and behind him again. There was no defense against a spirit…
But it did not attack him, it did not seek to take vengeance. It had said it was preparing food and drink. If it sought to help him … Ian breathed more easily, and looked about him yet once more. He was safe for the moment; he could not have asked for a better hideaway until dark. What was this strange place he was in?
There was an air of quiet orderliness about him, of safety and security. Ian began to relax, studying the chamber in which he found himself. At the far side, there was a round black hole in the floor with a low guardrail about it. Ian went over to it and peered down. A flight of spiral steps led to a room below. How strange that there was light, a soft light coming from nowhere that he could find! He retreated from the hole; perhaps that was where the guardian spirit lived. Later he might go down there and see—but only if he was sure it was safe. For now, it would be better to leave it alone.
He looked at the great chair, went closer to it, inspecting it. If this was a sanctuary to protect anyone who needed it, then surely this chair was for him to sit in. He clambered up, sat down, and looked at the table in front of him. It was shallow, only as deep as his forearm, and set with little circles and bars that glowed in many different colors. Their soft light struck fear into him, but he plucked up his courage and dared to poise a finger over one of them. Then his boldness failed, and he snatched his finger away. No, certainly he should not meddle with such things!
But—why not? If the “Base” was here to protect him, would he not be free to do as he wished? Perhaps, though, if he pressed one of these glowing circlets, the spirit would be angered, and would seek to revenge itself on him.
“Food and drink are prepared.”
Ian started at the suddenness of the deep voice, then caught himself with a hand against the table in front of him…
Something clicked.
His gaze darted down; he stared in horror at the heel of his hand. Slowly, he lifted it away, and saw that one of the green circlets had sunk into the tabletop. A low humming began. He backed away against the chair, eyes wide. Had he angered the spirit?
One of the square windows before him suddenly filled with light. Ian thought he must be looking out into the middle of a blizzard; there were only flecks of black and white, chasing each other past the window. At the same time, he heard a hiss begin, and the guardian spirit spoke. “Communication system is activated. Beacon is broadcasting distress signal.”
Then the voice was quiet. Ian waited, tensed, but nothing more happened. He looked down at the circlet. Should he try to pry it back up out of the tabletop?
No. The guardian spirit did not seem angered, and had not threatened to harm him. Better to leave well enough alone.
But the spirit spoke again. “Food and drink are served.”
Ian looked up, heart hammering—but at last, the words sank in. Food and drink! Suddenly, he was very hungry. But where were they? He searched all around the cabin, being careful not to touch anything. As he passed the hole with the spiral staircase, he caught the scent of fresh bread, eggs, and, wonder of wonders, pork! His mouth watered; he swallowed heavily, the hunger suddenly an ache in his belly. The food was down the spiral staircase, then. But was it safe to go down there? Or was the guardian spirit enticing him for some other, unknown purpose? He stood stock-still at the top of the steps, wondering. Then hunger got the better of caution, and he started down.
The staircase was steep and narrow, made out of some eldritch material that was neither stone nor metal nor wood, but something of all three—clean and smooth to the touch like metal, warm like wood, and gray like stone. It was just wide enough for a full-grown man, very steep, and turned upon itself like a corkscrew.
His eyes came below the level of the floor, and he stopped, staring in amazement.
Ten feet below him was a circle of the odd moss, wider than the hut in which he’d lived all his life. The walls sloped inward, like the inside of a cone with its top cut off. The “egg,” then, was the top of this cone, and this chamber was underground!
The strange, warm moss covered another floor, and this time, that moss was deep blue. Great padded chairs stood near him, and across the room stood a round table with two stools that had backs rising up—why, they were lords’ chairs! Trepidation rose in him all over again, fear at trespassing in a place so clearly the property of some great lord—but hunger was greater than fear. Two chairs! Was there company, then? Or was it merely that this hiding place was large enough for two people at a time?
A lord’s hideaway for a dalliance with a peasant wench!
But on the table was a plate with thin slices of meat and, wonder of wonders, a silver fork and spoon and knife beside it! He blinked, overawed by the luxury, and, very hesitantly and carefully, came to the table.
Nothing bad happened.
He slid up onto one of the lords’ chairs and, ignoring the knife and fork, began to eat with his fingers. If they caught him here, at least they would not be able to say he had stolen-for surely, stealing such treasure as a silver fork would be cause for hanging a serf!
He ate like a wolf, and the food was gone very quickly. Then he huddled back in the chair, wishing there were more, and staring at the steaming cup in front of him. The meat had been salty, and his thirst grew as he stared at the cup. Finally, he reached out and lifted it by the little handle. It almost overbalanced and spilled, but he caught it in time; the fluid within it was very hot and a dark brown. He sipped at it and made a face. It was very bitter. How could a lord like such stuff? He set it down and, instead, picked up a glittering, clear cup filled with orange liquid, sipped it carefully, decided it was very good, and drank it down. Then he looked about him, frowning. Strange that the dwarves had not found this place…