'Dammit, Your Eminence, I do not know. I've come to you for help. I want to know anything you might know that could help me find her.
'Have you looked in the library?
'Yes, I've looked in the library. I've looked everywhere.
'In the little garden by the clinic?
'Yes. I've told you. I've looked everywhere. You talk with her a great deal; you go to the library to visit her. Did she ever tell you anything, say anything at all that might — A loud hammering on the door interrupted them. Tennyson swung around to see what was going on.
The startled guard opened the door a crack to peer out and whoever had been pounding on it gave it a fierce shove, knocking the guard out of the way. A robot dressed in a monkish habit burst into the room.
'An Old One! he bawled. 'Your Eminence, an Old One!
The cardinal rose from his chair.
'An Old One, he thundered. 'What about an Old One? Cease all this hullabaloo and tell me what you want.
'An Old One is coming, the monk shouted at him. 'An Old One is coming up the esplanade.
'How do you know it's an Old One? Have you ever seen an Old One?
'No, Your Eminence. But everyone says it is an Old One. Everyone is running and screaming. Everyone is scared.
'If it is an Old One, said the cardinal, 'they had damn well best be scared.
Through the open door came the faint sound of screaming, a noise that filtered through many corridors.
'Up the esplanade? asked Tennyson. 'Heading for the basilica?
'That is right, Doctor, said the monk.
Tennyson said to the cardinal, 'Don't you think we should go out there and see what the Old One wants?
'I do not understand it, said the cardinal. 'No Old One has ever come to Vatican before. In the early days, when we first came here, we occasionally caught glimpses of them, never very many of them, and always from a long distance off. We didn't try to see them too closely. We had no commerce with them. We never troubled them and they never bothered us. Some terrifying tales weire told of them, but that was later on, the length of time that it takes for a myth to build.
'They did kill my predecessor — the young doctor — and the two humans who were with him.
'That is true, but the idiots went hunting them. You do not hunt an Old One. It simply isn't done. That was the first time, and the only time, that the Old Ones ever have committed violence.
'Then it's reasonable to think this one comes with no violence in its mind.
'I wouldn't think he is here to do us violence, said the cardinal, 'but who is to know? The people have a right to fear the Old Ones, if only from the stories they have heard, and to flee as they now are doing, It's only common sense.
'Well, are you coming out with me or not?
'You intend to confront the Old One?
'Not confront him. Meet him.
'Oh, I suppose I might as well, said Theodosius. 'There'll be no one else, I'm sure. I warn you, there'll just be the two of us.
'We will be enough, said Tennyson. 'Is there any chance we can communicate with him?
'There are ancient tales that some communication may be possible with Old Ones.
'All right, then. Let's go out and talk with this one.
Tennyson led the way, with Theodosius at his heels and the guard and monk trailing them at a considerable and, presumably, a safe distance.
As they walked through the corridors leading to the entrance of the papal palace, Tennyson tried to remember what he had been told of the Old Ones. It turned out, it seemed, that he had been told very little. The Old Ones had been here, on End of Nothing, when the robots had arrived. There had been only accidental, glancing contacts between the Old Ones and the residents of Vatican. Over the years a myth of the Old Ones as ferocious killers had grown up, the sort of stories that were told in chimney corners in the dead of night. But whether there might be any basis of fact for such stories, he had no way of knowing. Actually, during the time that he had been here, he had heard very little talk of Old Ones.
They came out of the palace and there, a short distance to the right, stood the massive, soaring basilica, its front facing on the broad, paved esplanade that ran up from the east. The esplanade was empty of either robots or humans — emptier than Tennyson had ever seen it. On top of buildings to either side human and robot heads peeked out, watching what was happening below. A breathless silence lay over everything, broken only now and then by distant shouts and shrieks.
Far down the esplanade a pudgy figure trudged, as broad as it was tall. Viewed from the distance that they stood, it appeared not too large, although Tennyson realized that to loom up as it did from the far end of the esplanade, it must be huge.
He hurried down the steps and along the walk that led to the basilica, with the cardinal crunching along behind him, the monk and guard lagging far behind.
Reaching the flight of wide stone stairs that led up to the basilica, Tennyson and the cardinal climbed them and stood waiting for the Old One.
The cardinal said, in an astonished voice, 'Doctor, that thing out there is spinning on its axis.
It was, indeed. It was a huge sphere, standing, Tennyson estimated, some twenty feet into the air. It was spinning slowly, and as it spun, it was moving forward. The surface of the globe was black, and while the surface was fairly smooth, it was pockmarked with numerous indentations. It was suspended in the air, its spinning body clearing the pavement by a foot or more.
'Strange, said the cardinal. 'Very strange, indeed, Doctor, have you ever seen anything quite like it?
'No, I have not, said Tennyson. 'You seem astonished. Can it be true you have never seen an Old One?
'As I told you, long ago, when we first came here. The stories had it that they were globular, but you know how stories are. I, myself, have never seen one until now.
The Old One came up to the foot of the stairs. There it halted and its spinning stopped. It dropped to the pavement and rested there.
'Those pockmarks on its hide, said Tennyson, 'must be sensory receptors. Sight, smell, hearing — Lord knows what else.
The cardinal said nothing. He stood erect, no longer muffled by his robes, like a soldier at attention.
The Old One sprouted an arm on his right side. It pushed out of his body and grew in length. At the end of it was what amounted to an outsize hand. It reached the hand into a pocket that had not been apparent before the hand dipped into it. It brought out something clutched in its fist and, lengthening its arm to do the job, laid it on the pavement. It was a human body. Tenderly, the fingers of the massive hand straightened the body and turned it on its back.
'My God! Tennyson cried. 'That's Decker!
He went several steps down the stairs, then stopped. The Old One's hand had dipped into the pocket again and now came out. Carefully and neatly, it deposited what it had brought from the pocket alongside Decker's body — a rifle, a rolled-up sleeping bag, a knapsack, a camp axe and a battered coffee kettle.
On the left side it also grew an arm, and with it reached into another pocket on the left side of its body. Out of it it brought another object and laid it on the pavement, alongside Decker's body — a robot with the top of its metal skull torn off, and another rifle. Carefully the fingers straightened out the dead robot and laid the rifle beside it.
The Old One pulled its arms back into its body, became a simple globe again.
It began to hum, like a vibrating drum, and its humming filled the air, as if the air itself might be vibrating. Out of the humming came human words, deep, slow, and somberous.
'We are wardens, it said. 'We keep watch upon this planet. We allow no killing here. Killing for food to keep life within the body is acceptable, for this is the plan of life for some. But not killing for any other reason.