“Where is there water?” he said, stirring her with his toe. She only moaned louder, eyes open and filled with tears, fists clenched at her sides. “I’m not going to hurt you, so stop that. I just want some help.” Despite what he said he grew angry when she didn’t answer and he slapped her again. “Tell me.”
Still sobbing deeply the girl rolled over and pointed to the room where she had been imprisoned. He looked in and saw that the little chair had a cover that lifted on a hinge, and beneath it. was; a large bowl of water. When he bent to scoop some out the girl screeched incoherently. She was sitting up, shaking her finger, horrified.
“No,” she finally gasped out. “No. That water is… not for drinking. There, on the wall, the nodren, that water you can drink.”
Worried by her obvious alarm, Chimal forced her into the room and made her explain its functions. She would not even look at the seat-bowl, but she filled another bowl on the wall with cold water that ran out of, a piece of. metal when she touched it the right way. After he had drunk his fill he poked at the other devices in the room and she told him what they were. The shower delighted him. He fixed it so that it ran hot and steaming, then tore off his maxtili and stood under the spray. The door was left open so he could watch the girl, and he paid no attention when she screamed again and ran to face the far wall, trembling. Her actions were so inexplicable that he did not attempt to understand, nor care what she did, as long as she did not try to escape again. When he pressed the button that made the soap foam it hurt, but his cuts felt better afterwards. Then he worked the handles to make the water the coldest it could be, before using the other control that blew warm air on him
For the first time since he had entered the door in the rock he had a moment to stop and think. Up until now events had pushed him and he had reacted. Now, perhaps he could get some answers to the multitude of questions that filled his head.
“Turn around and stop that noise,” he told the girl, and seated himself on the sleeping mat. It was very comfortable.
Her fingers were splayed against the wall, as though she were trying to push her way through it, and she remained that way while she turned her head, hesitantly, to look behind her. When she saw him seated she turned to face him and stood stiffly, her hands clasped before her and her fingers turning over and over.
“That’s much better.” Her face was a white mask, her eyes red rimmed and set in black circles from the continual crying. “Now tell me your name.”
“Watchman Steel.”
“All right, Steel. What do you do here?”
“I do my work, as it is ordered. I am a trepiol mar…”
“Not what you do, you yourself, but all of you, here in these tunnels under the mountains.”
She shook her head at the question. “I… I don’t understand you. We each do our ordered task, and serve the Great Designer as is our honor…”
“That means nothing, be quiet.” They talked the same way, yet some words were new, and he could not make her understand what he wanted to know. He would start from the beginning then, and build things up slowly. “And stop being frightened, I don’t want to hurt you. It was your Master Observer who sent for this thing that kills. Sit down. Here, sit beside me.”
“I cannot you…” She was too horrified to finish.
“I what.”
“You are… you have not… you are uncovered.”
Chimal could understand that. These cave people had a taboo about going about uncovered, just as the women in the valley must wear huipil to cover the bare upper parts of their bodies when they went to the temple. “I wear my maxtili,” he said, pointing to his loincloth. “I have no other covering here. If you have something I will do as you ask.”
“You are sitting on a blanket,” she said.
He found that there were layers to this sleeping mat, and the top one was made of soft and rich cloth. When he wrapped it around him the girl visibly relaxed. She did not sit by him, but instead pressed a latch on the wall and a small, backless chair fell into position: she seated herself upon it.
“To begin,” he said. “You hide in the rock here, but you know of my valley and my people.” She nodded. “Good, so far. You know of us but we do not know of you. How is that?”
“It is ordained, for we are the Watchers.”
“And your name is Watchman Steel. Then why do you watch us in secret? What are you doing?”
She shook her head helplessly. “I cannot speak. Such knowledge is forbidden. Kill me, it is better. I cannot speak…” Her teeth clamped into her lower lip so hard that a thick drop of blood formed and trickled down her chin.
“That is a secret I will have,” he told her quietly. “I want to know what is happening. You are of the outside world beyond my valley. You have the metal tools and all the things that we are cut off from, and you know about us — but you keep hidden. I want to know why…”
A deep booming, like the striking of a great song, filled the room and Chimal was on his feet instantly, holding ready the thing that kills. “What is that?” he asked, but Watchman Steel was not listening to him.
As the sound came again she dropped to her knees and bent her head over her clasped hands. She was muttering a prayer, or incantation of some kind, and her words were lost in the greater sound. Three times the gong struck, and on the third stroke she held up the little box that hung [missing text in original] until one of her fingers was bare. On the fourth stroke she pressed down hard on the rod of metal so that it first slipped into the case, then slowly returned. Then she released the box and began to cover her finger again. Before she could do this, Chimal reached down and took her hand, turning it over. There was a small pattern of indentations in her flesh from the barbs on the metal rod, and even some drops of blood. The whole pad of her finger was covered with a pattern of tiny white scars. Steel pulled her hand away and quickly slipped the cloth over the exposed flesh.
“You people do many strange things,” he said, and took the box from her hand. She was pulled close to him when he looked in the little windows again. The numbers were the same as before — or were they? Had not in the last number on the right been a three? It was a four now. Curiously, he pushed on the rod, even though it hurt his fingertip. Steel cried out and clawed for the box. The last number was now five. He released it and she pulled away from him, cradling the object, and ran to the far end of the room.
“Very strange things,” he said, looking at the dots of blood on his finger. Before he could speak again there was a light tapping on the door and a voice said, “Watchman Steel!”
Chimal sprang silently to her side and clamped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes closed and she shuddered and went limp. It could be a ruse on her part: he held her just as firmly.
“Watchman Steel?” the voice spoke again, and a second one said, “She is not here, open the door and look.”
“But think of privacy! What if she is here and we enter?”