Then it changed again, and they were underground, watching a huge engine that ate its way into the solid rock, leaving a bright round tunnel behind it. Then there were scenes of great caverns full of engines and people, and floating egg-shaped things that crossed the caverns and darted along tunnels, up and down shafts, all brightly lit, shining. Then the brown man again, and behind him a picture like the drawing of the Underworld the box had shown him before, only it was circular, with many rings one inside the other and four straight lines radiating from the smallest circle of all, in the center. Then the circle changed into a ball again; this time it was white. Watching these pictures made Thorinn uneasy in a way he could not understand; it was like being afraid, and because there was nothing to be afraid of, this made him angry. The brown man was still speaking; the yellow point of light had appeared, and the silvery ball, itself shrunken to a dot, was crawling away from it toward a cloud of other bright dots. Now the other dots swung, came closer, darting forward like frost-flakes in a storm until only one hung in the center of the crystal, growing larger and brighter.
“That’s enough,” Thorinn said. The crystal went dark.
“I haven’t all day to sit watching such stuff,” he said. “It’s all nonsense anyhow,” and he began turning over his heap of treasures, trying to decide what to take and what to leave behind.
III
The magic jug was a problem. He thought of hanging it from his belt, but that would be awkward; and unless he could contrive some sort of lid for it, the jug would be spilling water down his leg. Whereas if he put it in his wallet, it would take up too much’ room. He could fill the jug with jewels, but then would the water run over?
He remembered that when he had first taken the jug from its wrapping, there had been no water in it or, at any rate, only a drop. Was it being wrapped up that made the difference? It was worth trying, anyhow. He cut a piece of the transparent stuff, wrapped it around the jug after pouring the water out and tied it tightly with strips of the same material. Later, when he came back from a trip to gather food, he opened it, and it was still almost dry. He filled it to the brim with jewels, wrapped it again and put it in his wallet.
The smallest piece of cloth he had was far too bulky to carry, but he cut off a strip half an ell wide and as long as he was tall. He spread this on the floor and rolled up his cheeseboxes and other things in it — clothing shoes, the little figurines, tools and knives, the box, some leftover jewels — turning the ends in as he went. He did this twice over before he had the roll packed to his liking, with the heavier things in the middle, the food outside where it could be easily reached. He tied it with strips of cloth and with other strips contrived loops which would fit over his shoulders.
The box had said nothing while he was packing it, nor Had he spoken to it. Thorinn felt a little hangdog about this, as if He had been lacking in politeness; but he reminded himself that the box was only an engine, and it probably did not care.
At any rate, the box had said that the cave was eight hundred fifty ells long and three hundred nineteen ells wide; and in the picture it had shown him, there had been a tiny shaft through its roof to a tunnel above. It was near one end of the cavern as regards length and in the middle as regards width. If he could find it without wasting too much time in the search, it would be the quickest and best way out of the cavern, and Thorinn thought he knew how it could be done.
He set off down the aisle, counting his paces, and when he had gone a hundred and fifty ells, He turned to his right and began counting again. When He had gone six hundred ells, a gray wall loomed up ahead; he had reached the end of the cavern. He swung himself up onto the nearest rack and began to climb it.
The bottoms of the stacks disappeared; he was climbing in the fitful glow of his light-box with darkness all around. In the silence, the rack with its gray bundles seemed to glide downward past his body, as if he were not climbing at all, but hanging in midair and pulling down more and more of the rack like an endless serpent. In a few moments he saw a dim gray reflection overhead. It was the ceiling, and when he stood on top of the stack a moment later he could reach up and touch it with his hands. He could see the tops of other stacks to left and right, gray hummocks rising out of the darkness, but there was no sign of any opening in the roof of the cave.
He turned away from the cavern wall, leaped to the next stack, then to the next, examining the ceiling from each. When he had traversed ten stacks in this way, he leaped the aisle to the next row and began working back along it, meaning to trace a path around and around the original ten stacks, like a man winding string on a twig, until he found the opening; but he had hardly begun his second cast when it appeared, off to his left: a round black hole in the ceiling.
The shaft was circular and three spans wide. Standing under it and stretching up his arm with the light-box, he thought he could make out a brownish something that might be a shield closing it at the top.
Standing on his toes, he could just get his hands onto the smooth walls of the shaft; but that was no matter. He planted himself directly under the opening, bent his knees, leaped. As he shot up into the opening, he put out his arms and knees, braced himself, came to rest. A thrust and a wriggle, and he was half an ell farther up; now he could support himself with hands and feet on one side, back against the other. Hampered a little by the bundle across his shoulders, he still was able to climb rapidly enough. In a few moments his head was touching the brown hollow disk that closed the shaft. He touched it, and it swung aside; a black cusp widened to a circle. He was up, through it into darkness that turned suddenly to a flicker of pale light.
As those vast arching shapes exploded around him in a kind of silent sizzling, Thorinn flattened Himself to the floor. The cold shield was under his hand; he slapped it frantically, felt it swing, felt the cool upward breath, then the shaft walls were burning his hands and knees as he braked his fall; the shield swung over his head, and the light was gone.
With pounding heart, Thorinn hung in the shaft and stared upward. There was no sound. He tried to remember what he had seen: vast arcs of light that swooped up flickering into the darkness… What could it have been? He was ready to let go and drop instantly, if the shield should begin to turn; but nothing happened. At last he nerved himself to climb the shaft again.
He put his hand on the shield, turned it carefully. A lozenge of darkness appeared; there was no sound, no scent of danger. Thorinn widened the opening until it was black and round above him. The lights, whatever they were, were gone completely. With painstaking caution he thrust his head up; then, bracing himself to hold the shield open, raised his arm with the light-box. Darkness. He raised himself a little, head and shoulders through the opening; and a sudden flicker burst almost under his chin, ran away swooping and shimmering upward in multiple arcs …
When he ducked his head down, the flickering died; darkness returned. After a moment he raised himself again. The lights sprang up, flickering, swooping far overhead. They steadied, burned clear and cold. Thorinn raised himself a little more, cautiously, then still more, and finally climbed out.
IV
He was standing at the bottom of a vast tunnel whose walls curved up to become the ceiling an incredible distance overhead. The lines of light ringed it; the nearest, only an ell away, was a white ribbon that curved up, up, growing thinner until it was no more than a bright thread above. On either side of it were others, set three ells apart. In one direction they were dazzling bright, in the other much dimmer and more diffuse; he counted twenty of each. The reason for the difference, he saw now, was that the rings were lighted only on one side, so that in one direction he saw not the lights themselves but their reflections in the tunnel wall. As he looked down the tunnel, the farthest ones were perfect upright circles, but those nearer to him grew fatter at the bottom until they were vast egg-shapes that leaned together overhead.