Antil led the way across the open space and plunged into another burrow that twisted its way for half a mile through soil and rock. Here and there, side-corridors branched off, and once or twice Karl caught glimpses of ruined structures. He would have investigated had not Antil kept him on the path.
Again they emerged, this time before a low, sprawling building constructed of a smooth, green stone. Its right wing was utterly smashed, but the rest seemed scarcely touched.
The Venusian’s eyes shone; his slight form straightened with pride. “This is what corresponds to a modern museum of arts and sciences. In this you shall see the past greatness and culture of Venus.”
With high excitement, Karl entered-the first Earthman ever to see these ancient achievements. The interior, he found, was divided into a series of deep alcoves, branching out from the long central colonnade. The ceiling was one great painting that showed dimly in the light of the Atomite lamp.
Lost in wonder, the Earthman wandered through the alcoves. There was an extraordinary sense of strangeness to the sculptures and paintings about him, an unearthliness that doubled their beauty.
Karl realized that he missed something vital in Venusian art simply because of the lack of common ground between his own culture and theirs, but he could appreciate the technical excellence of the work. Especially, did he admire the colour-work of the paintings which went far beyond anything he had ever seen on Earth. Cracked, faded, and scaling though they were, there was a blending and a harmony about them that was superb.
“What wouldn’t Michelangelo have given,” he said to Antil, “to have the marvellous colour perception of the Venusian eye.”
Antil inflated his chest with happiness. “Every race has its own attributes. I have often wished my ears could distinguish the slight tones and pitches of sound the way it is said Earthmen can. Perhaps I would then be able to understand what it is that is so pleasing about your Terrestrial music. As it is, its noise is dreadfully monotonous to me.”
They passed on, and every minute Karl’s opinion of Venusian culture mounted higher. There were long, narrow strips of thin metal, bound together, covered with the lines and ovals of Venusian script-thousands upon thousands of them. In them, Karl knew, might lie such secrets as the scientists of Earth would give half their lives to know.
Then, when Antil pointed out a tiny, six-inch-high affair, and said that, according to the inscription, it was some type of atomic converter with an efficiency several times any of the current Terrestrial models, Karl exploded.
“Why don’t you reveal these secrets to Earth? If they only knew your accomplishments in ages past, Venusians would occupy a far higher place than they do now.”
“They would make use of our knowledge of former days, yes,” Antil replied bitterly, “but they would never release their stranglehold on Venus and its people. I hope you are not forgetting your promise of absolute secrecy.”
“No, I’ll keep quiet, but I think you’re making a mistake.”
“I think not,” Antil turned to leave the alcove, but Karl called to him to wait.
“Aren’t we going into this little room here?” he asked.
Antil whirled, eyes staring, “Room? What room are you talking about? There’s no room here.”
Karl’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as he mutely pointed out the narrow crack that extended half way up the rear wall.
The Venusian muttered something beneath his breath and fell to his knees, delicate fingers probing the crack.
“Help me, Karl. This door was never meant to be opened, I think. At least there is no record of its being here, and I know the ruins of Ash-taz-zor perhaps better than any other of my people.”
The two pushed against the section of the wall, which gave backward with groaning reluctance for a short distance, then yielded suddenly so as to catapult them into the tiny, almost empty cubicle beyond. They regained their feet and stared about.
The Earthman pointed out broken, ragged rust-streaks on the floor, and along the line where door joined wall. “Your people seem to have sealed this room up pretty effectively. Only the rust of eons broke the bonds. You’d think they had some sort of secret stored here.”
Antil shook his green head. “There was no evidence of a door last time I was here. However-” he raised the Atomite lamp up high and surveyed the room rapidly, “there doesn’t seem to be anything here, anyway.”
He was right. Aside from a nondescript oblong chest that squatted on six stubby legs, the place contained only unbelievable quantities of dust and the musty, almost suffocating smell of long-shut-up tombs.
Karl approached the chest, tried to move it from the corner where it stood. It didn’t budge, but the cover slipped under his pressing fingers.
“The cover’s removable, Antil. Look!” He pointed to a shallow compartment within, which contained a square slab of some glassy substance and five six-inch-long cylinders resembling fountain-pens.
Antil shrieked with delight when he saw these objects and for the first time since Karl knew him, lapsed into sibilant Venusian gibberish. He removed the glassy slab and inspected it closely. Karl, his curiosity aroused, did likewise. It was covered with closely-spaced, varicoloured dots, but there seemed no reason for Antil’s extreme glee.
“What is it, Antil?”
“It is a complete document in our ancient ceremonial language. Up to now we have never had more than disjointed fragments. This is a great find.”
“Can you decipher it?” Karl regarded the object with more respect.
“I think I can. It is a dead language and I know little more than a smattering. You see, it is a colour language. Each word is designated by a combination of two, and sometimes three, coloured dots. The colours are finely differentiated, though, and a Terrestrial, even if he had the key to the language, would have to use a spectroscope to read it.”
“Can you work on it now?”
“I think so, Karl. The Atomite lamp approximates normal daylight very closely, and I ought to have no trouble with it. However, it may take me quite a time; so perhaps you’d better continue your investigation. There’s no danger of your getting lost, provided you remain inside this building.”
Karl left, taking a second Atomite lamp with him, left Antil, the Venusian, bent over the ancient manuscript, deciphering it slowly and painfully.
Two hours passed before the Earthman returned; but when he did, Anti! had scarcely changed his position. Yet, now, there was a look of horror on the Venusian’s face that had not been there before. The “colour” message lay at his feet, disregarded. The noisy entrance of the Earthman made no impression’ upon him. As if ossified, he sat in unmoving, staring fright.
Karl jumped to his side. “Antil, Antil, what’s wrong?”
Antil’s head turned slowly, as though moving through viscous liquid, and his eyes gazed unseeingly at his friend. Karl grasped the other’s thin shoulders and shook him unmercifuily.
The Venusian came to his senses. Writhing out of Karl’s grasp he sprang to his feet. From the desk in the corner he removed the five cylindrical objects, handling them with a queer sort of reluctance, placing them in his pouch. There, likewise, did he put the slab he had deciphered.
Having done this, he replaced the cover on the chest and motioned Karl out of the room. “We must go now. Already we have stayed too long.” His voice had an odd, frightened tone about it that made the Earthman uncomfortable.
Silently, they retraced their steps until once more they stood’ upon the soaked surface of Venus. It was still day, but twilight was near. Karl felt a growing hunger. They would need to hurry if they expected to reach Aphrodopolis before the coming of night. Karl turned up the collar of his slicker, pulled his rubberized cap low over his forehead and set out,
Mile after mile passed by and the domed city once more rose upon the grey horizon. The Earthman chewed at damp ham sandwiches, wished fervently for the comfortable dryness of Aphrodopolis . Through it all, the normally friendly Venusian maintained a stony silence, vouchsafing not so much as a glance upon his companion.