Many of the words were meaningless. Nor could Jared remember the name “Thorndyke” listed among the hierarchy of Nuclear demons.
The last of the procession passed and he only crouched there, lost in disappointment. He had listened intensely and sniffed avidly. But there had been no trace of Della among the captives.
He had almost decided to continue on toward the Lower Level when he heard yet another demon coming from the direction of the Barrier, however. And he almost bolted from concealment as he caught the scent of Della at the same time.
Keeping his eyes firmly closed so there would be no distraction from the Light impressions, he waited tensely. Finally the creature drew abreast of the fissure and Jared hurled himself upon it, driving his shoulder into its ribs.
Della’s inert weight came down upon him, but he shook free and lunged after her captor. He managed to catch the thing’s throat in the bend of his arm, but decided against wasting the time it would take to throttle the life out of it. Instead he pounded his fist againt the creature’s jaw until it went limp.
Lifting the girl onto his shoulder, he snapped his fingers to sound out his bearings, then raced on into the temporary security of the Original World. As best he could, he interpreted the reflections of the snaps and made his way across the central clearing. At random, he selected one of the shacks for further concealment.
Inside, he deposited Della on the floor and sat just within the opening, alertly listening for suspicious sounds.
Hundreds of breaths passed before he sensed the girl’s return to consciousness and heard her draw in an erratic breath. He hurried over and clamped a hand across her mouth in time to block a scream.
Against her terrified struggling he whispered, “It’s Jared. We’re in the Original World.”
When the fright had drained away he released her and told her what had happened.
“Oh, Jared!” she exclaimed after he had finished. “Let’s go find our hidden world while we still have the chance!”
“As soon as we can be sure there aren’t any more demons out in the corridors.”
Wearily, she rested her head against his arm. “We’ll find a pleasant world, won’t we?”
“The best. If it isn’t just like we want it, we’ll build it over to suit ourselves.”
“We’ll carve out a grotto first and then—” She hesitated. “Listen! What’s that?”
At first he heard nothing. Then, as their attentive silence deepened, there came a faint thump-thump, thump-thump. It was as though rocks, or something even harder, were striking one another. But, at the moment, he was more concerned over the fact that Della had heard it first. Could his encounter with Radiation have produced that degree of deafness already? Or was it merely that he was confused by the memory of having gained impressions through Light impulses and was forgetting how to use his ears?
“What is it?” she asked, rising.
“I don’t know.” He groped his way out of the residential structure. “It seems to be coming from this next shack.”
Homing in on the sound, he followed it through the entrance of that other living unit and stood listening to it flow up from a square opening in the floor. Della clung to his hand and he felt her start as she zivved the presence of the artificial pit.
He moved closer and listened sharply into the hole that descended at an acute angle instead of boring straight down. Now he could hear the thump-thump being distinctly modulated by an abrupt, regular series of elevations that stretched along the entire lower surface of the slanting tunnel.
“There are steps going down as far as I can hear,” he said.
“To where?”
He shrugged inadequately.
“Jared, I’m frightened.”
But he was rigid with thought, one foot poised above the first step. “The legends say Paradise isn’t far from the Original World.”
“There’s no Paradise down there! If we’re going to go anywhere, let’s get on with the search for our own world.”
He took the first step, reached for the next. He had found, to his distress, that Radiation was close to the Original World. But that didn’t mean Paradise, too, wasn’t somewhere around here.
Moreover, his attention was so firmly attached to the thump-thump, thump-thump that he had no incentive to consider anything else. It was a peculiar, enchanting sound that drew him down, down.
Thump-thump-throb, thump-thump-throb…
The clacks were crude, yet delicate. They were sharp and precise, profoundly clear. It was as though a super echo caster were sounding far in the distance — a caster whose reflections were so perfect that there wasn’t a detail of setting they couldn’t wring out of one’s surroundings.
Even with his hearing so dulled by having experienced the vast infinity of the Nuclear devils, he could discern features of the stones around him that he would never have been able to detect otherwise. Each crack and niche in every step, each fissure in the walls, all the minute rises or depressions of the surfaces — everything was clearly audible. Why, the sonic composites he was receiving now were almost as perfect as those weird ones which had come in through his eyes when all the Light in Radiation had engulfed him!
Impotent before the allurement of that marvelous caster, he hastened his descent. It was like approaching the most perfect artificial echo producer ever devised. Such a caster could, of course, exist only in Paradise.
Thump-throb, clank-chunk… Thump-throb, clankchunk, spat…
His ears opened in fascination to the subtle counterpoints that swam closer to the surface of the dominant sound as he neared its origin. The volume of the whole swelled about him like a soft embrace. The perfection and precision of these tones were incredible.
Thump-throb, ping-spat, sssss…
The bold, bass tones sounded out the exact pattern of every major prominence about him. Even without attentive listening he could keep track of each insignificant motion of Della’s arms and legs as she treaded the steps. And the finer, more highly pitched notes filled in the composite to a degree of completion that was exquisite. Take that delicate pinkle-twang — - it required no concentration at all to listen to each strand of hair that comprised the girl’s banded tress which now hung casually over her shoulder.
Thump-throb, ping-spat, chunk, tut-tut-tut-tut…
He tuned his ear to the minor stuttering vibration. Listening to its unbelievably distinct tones, he heard even the imperceptible creases of flesh that comprised the girl’s frown. The impressions that came from her long eyelashes were as clear as though he had scores of tiny fingers feeling each one individually.
He began taking the steps two at a time, fearing for a while that, in racing toward the infinite sonic beauty of Paradise, he might also be descending an infinitely long flight of stairs. But, then, the steps curved to the right and at last he could hear the opening at the bottom of the pit, not too far ahead.
“Let’s turn around!” Della pleaded, huffing. “We’ll never get back up all these steps!”
But he only went faster. “Don’t you hear this might be what I’ve been searching for all along? I wasn’t trying to find Light. I was really hunting for Paradise, but I didn’t realize that until now.”
He reached the bottom of the stairs and drew the girl to a halt beside him. They stood under a broad arch of stone that opened up on a vast enclosure, many times more expansive than even the spacious Zivver domain. Enraptured, he swayed before the rich, tremolant sound and let the mighty avalanche of ideal tones pour down upon him. It was easily the most entrancing experience of his life. He had found an auditory beauty beyond imagination. And such unbounded excellence of concord and rhythm transported him with delight, filled him with intense emotions of gratification, self-assurance.