In a way, he was glad to get rid of the others. The Captain had kept on complaining of a sore throat and another of the crew had coughed so much it was hard to hear the tones of the clickstones.
Moreover, those who had no complaint over personal discomfort had been on edge over the fact that they thought they detected the scent of the monster from time to time. Jared himself could smell nothing — not with his nose stopped up the way it was. Nor could he hear very much, since the general stuffiness in his head seemed to have extended to his ear passages too.
Shivering with a chill, he sounded his stones for maximum volume and staggered on down the passageway, wishing all the while that he’d reported in to the Injury Treatment Grotto instead of going on with Declaration of Unification Intentions.
He rounded the sweeping curve and paused, listening ahead. There was brisk activity up there — rock being cast down on top of rock, methodically but swiftly. Voices — the voices of two men mumbling in desperate tones, swearing and invoking the name of Light Almighty.
Rattling his pebbles more intently, he listened to the clicks echo against the men as they darted about collecting rocks and depositing them in a heap against one wall of the Upper Level entrance.
Then he realized he was hearing silent sound — in front of the pair! It was attached to the wall.
The small bundle of frozen echoes seemed to be plastered there and the men were frantically covering it up with stones. One of them belatedly heard Jared’s presence, shouted fearfully and bolted back into the world.
“It’s only Fenton — from the Lower Level,” the other called.
But it was audible that the man didn’t intend to return.
Jared started forward and drew back, dismayed. Again he was certain the screaming silence wasn’t reaching him through his ears. He was actually hearing (if that was the word for it) the stuff with his eyes! He proved that much by turning his head the other way; he instantly became altogether unaware of its presence.
When he turned back, the bundle of soundless noise was gone — completely. And it seemed significant that he had heard the man put the final rock on the pile, thereby finishing the echo barrier.
“You’d better get inside,” the other warned, “before the monster comes back!”
“What happened?”
Reflections of his words fetched a composite of the man raising a trembling hand to wipe perspiration off his face. “The monster didn’t take anyone this time. It only stayed out here swabbing the wall with—”
He screamed and shook his hand violently in front of him. Then he plunged deafly down the passage, sobbing, “Light Almighty!”
Jared readily heard what had frightened the other. The palm of his hand was full of the roaring silence!
He advanced curiously on the rock pile. But a seizure of coughing drove home the realization of how sick he was and he stumbled on into the Upper Level World.
There was nobody at the entrance to meet him this time, so he used the clacks of the central caster to sound his way to the Wheel’s grotto. He found Anselm pacing behind the curtain and muttering to himself, grim-voiced and tense.
“Come in, my boy — rather, Prime Survivor,” the Wheel invited. “Wish I could say I’m glad to have you back.”
He returned to his pacing and Jared dropped miserably down on a bench. He cupped his feverish face in his hands.
“Sorry to hear about your father, my boy. I was shocked when the runner told me. We’ve had three people taken by the monsters since you left.”
“I came back,” Jared said weakly, “to Declare Unification In—”
“Unification Intentions — compost!” Anselm boiled over as he faced Jared with hands on his hips. “At a time like this you’ve got Unification on your mind?”
When Jared didn’t answer, he said, “Sorry, my boy. But we’re on edge up here-with monsters running all over the place and hot springs drying Up. Five more boiled out yesterperiod. I understand you’ve been having the same trouble.”
Jared nodded, not particularly caring whether the Wheel heard.
Anselm mumbled some more and said, “Unification! Didn’t the runner tell you I’d decided to put things off until we can do something about all these other complications?”
“I haven’t heard the runner. Where is he?”
“I sent him back early this period.”
Jared slumped on the bench, his body boiling like a turbulent spring. The runner had already left but hadn’t reached the Lower Level. And they hadn’t passed him on the way up. Only ominous significance could be attached to the fact that several members of the Official Escort — those with clear noses, at least — had told of smelling the lingering scent of the monster in the passageway.
His lungs convulsed in a coughing spell and when he finished he was aware the Adviser had entered the grotto and was standing there listening intensely down at him.
“Well, Fenton,” Lorenz said bluntly, “what do you make of all this monster business?”
Jared trembled with another chill. “I don’t know what to think of it.”
“I’ve told the Wheel what I think: The Zivvers have gone back to their old tricks. They’re taking Survivors as slaves. And they’re in league with the Twin Devils to accomplish their purpose.”
“And I say that’s ridiculous,” put in Anselm. “We even heard the monsters take a Zivver!”
“How do we know that wasn’t something they wanted us to hear?”
Anselm snorted. “If the Zivvers are going to start taking slaves again, they’d just do it.”
Lorenz was silent. But it was an adamant silence. It was readily audible he was going to insist the monsters and Zivvers were working together. And Jared could understand why: If the Adviser intended to accuse him of being a Zivver, he was going to make certain the accusation also included indirect blame for the presence of the monsters.
“I’m sure Della will want to hear your decision on Unification, my boy.” Anselm took the Adviser by the arm and swept the curtain aside. “I’ll send her in.”
Jared coughed, spanned his steaming forehead with a trembling hand and shivered.
A short while later the girl entered and drew in a sharp breath as she stood with her back against the curtain.
“Jared!” she exclaimed with deep concern. “You’re boiling! What’s wrong?”
He was surprised at first that she could hear his fever all the way across the grotto. But fever was heat. And heat was the stuff Zivvers zivved, wasn’t it?
“I don’t know,” he managed.
For a moment he had almost generated interest in the fact that she was here and zivving. And that now was his chance to listen closely and perhaps hear whether there was a lessness of something around her while she zivved. But his purpose faded away in another jarring shiver.
Della closed the curtain securely behind her and came over. He turned his head and coughed and she knelt before him, feeling the heat in his arms and face. And he heard her features twist with concern.
But she pushed the expression aside for something that was evidently more urgent. “Jared, I’m sure the Adviser knows you’re a Zivver!” she whispered. “He hasn’t come out and said so, but he keeps reminding everybody how remarkable your senses are!”
Jared swayed forward, caught himself and sat there trembling and perspiring, his head roaring, spinning.
“Don’t you hear why he made you shoot at that target among the hot springs?” she went on. “He knows what too much heat does to a Zivver! He was just trying to find out if you—”