Ratha stood, letting the wind-blown spray cool her as she studied the tumbled boulders near the foot of the cliff. She tensed as something moved in the shadows. It took form, becoming a head and forelegs. A Firekeeper emerged from a cleft between the rocks. He was so intent on his work that he did not see her, and he soon disappeared out of sight down the trail she had just climbed up.
She threaded her way through the scattered rockfalls until she reached the cleft. She was about to enter when she heard voices echoing inside. Quickly she backed off. One of the voices was Fessran’s. The other, louder one was Shongshar’s.
“I really think we should have told her before we started.” Fessran sounded querulous. “It’s obvious that this will benefit the rest of the clan, not just our Firekeepers.”
“And suppose she doesn’t see it that way,” Shongshar hissed, and the echo from the rock walls added menace to the voice that carried to Ratha. “Suppose she treats this as she has treated our gatherings, showing little respect for us and the fire-creature we serve.”
“She won’t, Shongshar. I ...”
Fessran’s voice faltered and Ratha knew a stray breeze had wafted her scent into the cavern. When the Firekeeper leader came out her face had an odd, tight look as if she were angry but was afraid to lose her temper. Shongshar followed her and fixed Ratha with his strange unreadable gaze. He had changed so much in the time since he had given up his witless young that she no longer knew what to expect from him.
“I was told you were storing wood up here,” she said briskly, not looking at either one of them. “That is a good idea. I would like to see how much you have gathered.”
“Not very much. Why don’t you come back later when we have sorted and stacked it?” Fessran said, with a glance at Shongshar.
“Then show me the cave,” Ratha said flatly, making sure they knew this was no longer a request.
Silently Shongshar turned his gray bulk around and led the way in. Ratha went after him and heard Fessran following. She expected to have to use her whiskers while her eyes adapted to the gloom, but she found that the low tunnel was lit by a faint wavering light.
Her ears caught a soft, steady roar that grew louder as they traveled farther into the cavern. The light grew stronger, making Shongshar into a gray-brown shadow ahead of her and tinting Fessran’s eyes with a ruddy glow.
The sound grew louder still. Ratha, following Shongshar, found herself in a larger cave whose roof arched away into shadow. Crystal-flecked pillars reflected the fierce orange light from the fire that burned in the center of the cavern.
Ratha felt her fur rise. She had been in caves before, but they had been lighted only by the soft phosphorescence of slimy plants that grew on their walls. She had sensed the vastness and emptiness of those underground caverns only by the echoes that reached her ears or by the clammy breeze that seemed to come from the depths of the earth. Now, with the fire’s light, she could examine an entire chamber.
Pillars of rough limestone reared up until they were lost in the shadows that played on the roof of the cave. Fang-shaped stones rose from the floor to guard the entrances to other chambers deeper in the rock, whose ageless emptiness seemed to seep into the cave in which she stood.
She looked around in awe, feeling small and fearful amid the ominous majesty of the great cavern. Against the base of a pillar, the Firekeepers had begun piling kindling. The wood looked untidy and out of place against the fire-jeweled pillar. There were a few Firekeepers in the rear of the chamber; Ratha had not noticed them at first, since they blended into the moving shadows cast by the Red Tongue.
The cave itself was not the only awesome thing. Ratha felt her gaze drawn almost unwillingly to the fire. Its sound filled the chamber and its light danced on the pillars and the walls. Here, its presence was overwhelming and shadowed everything else. Here, its power was contained and strengthened. Here was a place where the Red Tongue ruled.
Again Ratha remembered her dream, and she could almost see the coal-red eyes of the dream creature forming in the fire’s heart. She fought fear with anger, turning suddenly on Fessran.
“Why have you brought the fire in here?” she demanded. “I thought this was to serve only as a place for keeping wood.”
It was not Fessran but Shongshar who answered. “Our Firekeepers find it difficult to see when they come in from daylight. We have lighted the cave so they can see where to place their wood. Surely you see the sense in doing so, clan leader.”
Despite herself, Ratha had to agree that his reason was valid. She felt frustrated at being unable to find an explanation for the sense of uneasiness that clawed at her belly. She asked more questions, but the answers all made sense, even though they didn’t satisfy her. Why had they picked such a large cavern? The smaller ones were above the falls and more difficult to reach. Why hadn’t they built the fire in the less spacious gallery that led to the cave? It was too damp and the wood must be kept dry.
At last Ratha said, “When you are finished gathering wood, you will no longer need the fire-creature in the cave. I want it taken out.”
“We will need it here when the rainy season comes,” Fessran protested.
“I will decide what to do when the rainy season comes. When you are finished stacking wood, you will take the Red Tongue out of here.”
“As you wish, clan leader,” Shongshar said in a low growl. Fessran looked as if she wanted to say something else, but remained silent.
Ratha found her way out of the cave. The bright day hurt her eyes, but she was suddenly grateful for the sunlight and blue sky. She breathed air made crisp by spray from the falls, shook herself and went back down the trail.
The task of wood gathering took much more time than Ratha expected. Once or twice she nearly lost her temper, but Fessran pointed out that if she wanted the herds to be safely guarded, the Firekeepers had to have dry fodder for the guard-fires. Ratha remembered the bristlemane attack and reluctantly agreed to let the Firekeepers finish their task.
Although she disliked being in the cave, she went up to it every once in a while to see how the Firekeepers were doing. On her most recent trip, she noticed that Fessran had set someone outside to guard the cavern entrance.
This made her more uneasy than ever. As soon as enough wood was stockpiled for the rainy season, she was going to put a stop to the activity in the cave.
Chapter Fourteen
The task of gathering wood continued to go slowly and Ratha’s impatience grew. Each day that the fire burned in the cave seemed to add to the strength and influence of the Firekeepers. Every day that she was in the meadow, she would hear the herders talking about the cave-den of the Red Tongue. Some were bold enough to speak about visiting it, although none of them had, as far as she knew.
Midsummer passed and the green of the meadow grass turned to pale gold. The herdbeasts coughed in the dust raised by the dry wind. The little stream that flowed through the meadow shrank to a trickle and the herders began taking the animals to the river to water. The Firekeepers took great care in clearing the places where the guard-fires were lit, for a single spark could set the meadow aflame.
The Firekeepers’ task began drawing to an end at last. Even Fessran agreed with Ratha that enough dry wood had been stored to last through the longest rainy season. She was less agreeable about taking the Red Tongue out of the cave, and Ratha found, to her dismay, that not only the Firekeepers, but many of the herders wanted it kept there. Why protect only the Red Tongue’s food from the wind and rain? Did it make sense to do that while the fires that were the main source for lighting all the others were left ill-protected in shallow dens dug for them in the meadow? In a bad storm, the fire-lairs could flood. Why not keep a source-fire safe in the deep cave? Then the clan would never have to worry about losing the Red Tongue even in the fiercest of storms.