He looked at the wires, and up to the pipe and jet on the wall, and back to the wires, whistling tunelessly. Then he replaced the covers and relieved Dar’s mind by leaving the room.
Kruger was not frightened but was sorely puzzled by what he had seen. A city, still in good repair although without any present inhabitants, presumably abandoned not long ago — yet running down into the ocean for a distance that implied centuries of land sinking, equipped with gas-lighting and electric wiring in the same building.
Dar was not able to throw light on the question. He recognized the weight of his friend’s arguments in all matters except the gas-electricity question and was willing to accept a qualified opinion there. Kruger explained that situation as well as he could while they rested in the shade of the building’s entrance hall. Theer was practically at his closest, and travel was impractical anyway. Dar understood without any trouble that a gas light was a form of fire and led the conversation hastily on to the question of electricity. Kruger did not expect to get much of this concept across and was pleasantly surprised to discover that Dar appeared to be following quite well. The explanation was long, of course, but by the time Theer had dropped once more behind the hills the boy was as sure as he ever became that he was understood.
The question then arose of just what they should do about it all. Kruger thought it would be best for them to examine at least one or two more buildings to make sure that the one they had seen was typical; then they would have some more or less organized information, which Dar could give to his people. Kruger’s chance to report it to his people seemed a good deal more remote, but perhaps he could use the knowledge himself.
Dar had a more serious problem. His interest had been aroused, of course; he would like, in one way, to bring a group of his people and perhaps some Teachers back to this place so that they could learn more about the electricity that Kruger had described. At the same time there was the fact that he had violated firm and long-standing instructions — not merely orders of the Teachers but written material handed down in books from the time before his people were born — against having anything to do with fire. There could be no doubt that whoever had built this place had never heard of those laws. If Dar made a complete report at the Ice Ramparts would the result be an expedition, or censure? This was his problem, of course; he could not ask Kruger for advice. The human being obviously had never heard of the law either but could hardly be blamed for that; his background was different.
Still, what he was to do with the information made little difference in what he should do now about acquiring more. He followed Kruger’s lead, therefore, and some hours were spent in going through a number of the structures.
These were no more identical than the buildings of a terrestrial city would have been, but none of the variations were particularly startling. The gas pipe-electric wiring anomaly seemed to exist everywhere; Dar pointed out that the pipes were only in inner rooms, whereas electrical outlets frequently appeared in entrance halls and even on outer walls. There seemed to be some prejudice on the part of the city dwellers against the use of electricity for lighting. Kruger refused to credit Dar’s suggestion that they might not have invented electric lights. His opinion was that anyone who could construct a dependable current source, sufficient for a city, could at least strike an arc with it. He may have been right.
Although Theer had not been down very long, several thunder showers had passed over the city while they were investigating. When the two decided that they had seen enough and should probably continue their journey they found that another of the storms was just breaking. It would not have been impossible to travel in the rain — Kruger was usually soaking wet anyway — but visibility was not good and they decided to wait.
Like most of the others the shower did not last too long, and presently the sky began to lighten. Dar replaced his pack on his shoulders and they started out while rain was still hissing down. It struck the pavement loudly enough to make conversation difficult, and rivulets of water gurgled down the slope of the gutterless street toward the sea. Probably this was what kept Dar’s ears from warning them. At any rate that was what he claimed later.
Whatever the reason, neither of them knew they were not alone until the company showed itself deliberately. The interruption to their journey involved both word and action; the word was “Stop!” and the action took the form of a crossbow bolt which splintered against the street in front of them. Dar and Kruger, realizing that the projectile must have come from above, rapidly covered with their eyes the roof edges in their vicinity, but nothing moved.
The word had been in Dar’s language, so the pilot took it on himself to answer. He very carefully refrained from raising his own crossbow. “What do you want?”
“You must come with us.”
“Why?” Kruger had understood enough of the foregoing conversation to be able to ask this question.
“You are — — — — — — the city.” The first and last parts of this sentence were all the boy could follow.
“What’s their trouble?” asked Kruger.
“The trouble is ours. We are — we did — coming in the city was bad.”
“Why?”
“They do not say.” Dar did not mention that he thought he knew; this was no time for lengthy explanations.
“Do you have any ideas as to who these are?”
“Ideas, but I don’t know.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“What they say.” Dar, standing in the middle of a bare street, was in no mood for a crossbow duel with an unknown number of antagonists, all under excellent cover. Nevertheless there was one question in his mind.
“What will be done to us for entering your city?”
“Whatever the Teachers say. It is not for us to decide.”
“What has happened in the past?”
“No one has disobeyed a Teacher for many years. At first, when people were young, some did; they suffered, and did not offend again.”
“But suppose we did not know we were offending?”
“You must have known; you are a person. The thing with you may be forgiven. The Teachers will decide.”
“But I never heard of this place; my Teachers never told me of it, and it is not in the books. How could I know?”
“You must have very stupid Teachers. Maybe you will not be blamed for that.” Dar was sufficiently indignant to make a retort which Kruger would have discouraged, had he been able to follow the conversation at all closely.
“Am I from your city?”
“No.”
“Did your Teachers tell you of my city?”
“No.”
“Then there must be two sets of stupid Teachers on Abyormen.” If Kruger had understood this remark he would have confidently expected to see it answered with a volley of crossbow bolts, but nothing of the sort happened. The unseen speaker simply returned to the original question.
“Will you come with us without fighting?”
“We will come.” Dar made the answer without any further consultation with Kruger. After all, the boy had already asked Dar what should be done, and presumably had no opinion of his own.
With Dar Lang Ahn’s words the openings in the surrounding buildings gave forth some fifty beings. Kruger was able to take the revelation without particular surprise, but Dar was shocked beyond measure to find that the attackers were identical physically with himself. He was a well-traveled individual; he had met, on his official trips to the Ice Ramparts and elsewhere, members of his race from several score cities scattered over Abyormen’s globe, and he had never heard of any except the uncaught savages living out of touch with the Teacher-ruled cities. Still, there was no questioning the facts; the beings surrounding him might have come straight from any city he had visited. Even the carrying harness they wore was virtually identical with his own, and the crossbows borne by most of them might have been made by Merr Kra Lar, home in Kwarr.