In the latrine, the man gripped Macurdy's shoulders and tried to shake him. "You were talking in your sleep!" Macurdy stared, confused.
"In English!" The words, though little more than a whisper, were almost. hissed. "If you must talk in your sleep, do it in German! Do you understand? It can mean your life!"
Then Schurz left the latrine, an astonished Macurdy staring after him. After a minute he followed, but it was a couple of hours before he slept again.
25
Sorcery
The next time Berta and Macurdy managed to speak privately was on Sunday, during the group walk. The air was thick with snowflakes, blurring vision and muffling sounds.
"Kurt," she said, "let's go to the party room tonight. You are good, darling, the best ever. I ache to have you again." He touched her mittened hand. "It is too dangerous now. Schurz discovered me gone. He was angry, demanding to know where I'd been. I told him to your room, and that you'd rejected me. I'm sure he didn't believe me though. He said if it happens again, he'll report me. He peered earnestly at her; again her aura reflected-not belief, but not disbelief. His story had a major element of truth, he told himself" he had been discovered. "Maybe in a week or two," he added, "the Herr Doktor Professor won't be so alert."
The next night he sneaked to the cellar alone, this time with his "pocket knife"-in reality a small set of lock picks. The locks were old-fashioned lever locks, no challenge at all. He supposed they'd been there since the doors were hung.
He began his snoop in the main, central section, where he found the furnace, as large, if not as tall, as a small shp's boiler, in an unlocked room loud with the sound of screw feed, grinder, blower, fire, and forced draft. He backed out and continued working north, finding nothing interesting until, beneath the north wing, halfway past the ell, he found a powder magazine- a room with a large and tidy stack of TNT in half-kilo blocks.
He had no idea why they'd be stored there, but it could easily account for the cellar being so strongly forbidden.
He was more surprised to find a similar stack in the next room. Beyond that, none of the rooms were locked, and none had anything of interest.
The other major discovery was at the end of the corridor: the heavy exit door was locked only by a stout oak bar. This, he realized, was how the guardsmen brought girls in. Opening it, he found an entryway with a dozen steps. It seemed once to have had a covering door; now it was open to the sky. Snow had blown in, and been tracked by booted feet.
This was a far safer way to get out of the building than opening the front door in the face of a guard.
In class he continued to improve. He developed the ability to make visualized movement smooth and realistic, like a movie in three dimensions. When he'd learned to create images he could hear, smell, and feel-images that seemed entirely real- he learned to judge their weight by mentally hefting the images! That phase went quickly, and apparently well enough to satisfy Nargosz, for he graduated to another classroom, joining Schurz and Manfred. How, he wondered, had the Voitar decided he was ready? Seemingly they read neither minds nor auras. The only explanation he could think of was not very convincing, but perhaps-while they might not read thoughts-perhaps they saw and otherwise perceived his created images.
In his new classroom, the Voitu in charge-a gangling giant named Horszath-had them create images of monsters large and small, in three dimensions and fine detail. Monsters that stank. Monsters ugly, dangerous, indestructible and as frightening as possible. Preferably terrifying.
It seemed to him that all of this could have only one purpose: He and the others were to create such monsters in reality, monsters as real as Kurqosz's hawk-bat, only more frightening. But a mental image couldn't move around and kill people. At least not en masse. And it seemed to Macurdy that even if they succeeded, all the monsters they might make would be less dangerous than a battery of flak-wagons from the Krupp Works. Certainly far less dangerous than a panzer battalion.
And harder to create. Macurdy found himself unable to get the essence of raw horror that Horszath wanted. Which saved him from having to fake failure, for he had no intention of producing what Horszath wanted.
On his way to the rec room, one evening after supper, Macurdy met Berta in the corridor. "Kurt," she murmured, "I have learned why the cellar is forbidden us. If you'd like, I will tell you tonight. Privately somewhere."
That evening he browsed Der Sturmer awhile-it reminded him what the war was about-then played two games of solitaire and went to bed early, trusting e arrival of the others to waken him. After lights out he lay there until the auras around him indicated sleep. Then he cloaked himself and crouched by the door. After the first hall patrol passed, he went to the latrine, relieved himself, checked auras again, and left. When he scratched at the women's door, Berta was prompt and saucy. He let himself appear nervous, whispering "I am in serious trouble if Schurz discovers I've snuck out again." Then they slipped quietly to the cellar without incident.
This time there was no schnapps or brandy there, only beer. Macurdy wondered aloud whether there'd been any discussion among the blackbacks over who had been into the goods.
But he set his concern aside when Berta wrapped her arms around his neck and began eating his face. This time there was more foreplay, and after sex, he suggested they skip the beer, to avoid advertising that the place was being used during the week.
Berta laughed. "Let them think it was Robert and I, or Reinholdt and I." Macurdy looked surprised. "That's how I learned what I have learned," she said. "I came down here with Robert while Reinholdt was the foyer guard. The next night was Reini's turn. That also allowed me to ask each of them the same questions, to see if they gave the same answers."
She smirked. "Neither of them is the man you are, Kurt, in any respect. But when someone has a deep thirst and there is no beer, water will do. They told me why the cellar is forbidden us: Dynamite is stored in two of the rooms. In this wing! Enough to level the building and leave a hole in its place. They said it was brought here for the Voitar a year ago, but neither of them knows why."
She fingered his nipple, then they kissed, and she began to fondle him. "Do not be jealous, dear Kurt. Next to you they are boys. You are the man. And I do not plan to come here again with them." They were sitting on the sofa, and now she pushed him down, straddling him. "I learned something else, too. The Voitar have women from time to time." She leaned over him, her hard-rippled breasts brushing his chest, and kissed him again.
"Women?" he said. "The Voitar?"
"That is more interesting than dynamite, is it not? There were three Jewesses last summer, or six if you believe Robert. They were brought here from a labor camp. Then, supposedly, the Voitar had them taken to the top of der Hexenkamm, where they were raped and sacrificed to the Devil at the full moon."
She slid down onto Macurdy's thighs and began kissing his chest, then paused.
"Two months later, or maybe only one, it was two German girls-Robert said two nuns-and a gypsy. And last Sunday night, they both told me, it was a German woman, tall and blond, a real aristocrat according to Reini, the sort of woman that might marry a general or a Reichsminister " She grinned. "Maybe der Kronprinz is screwing her this minute, having his fun before the moon is full. Although cooped in this rock pile, I don't know what phase the moon is in." She chuckled, her voice husky. "Have you seen the Voitar's ears? They remind me of goats, and you know what goats can do in their season." She slid down further, and purred: "But I prefer a German man with meat on his bones. And between his legs!"