The Pearl of the Soul of the World - By Meredith Ann Pierce Page 0,13

tried to take her other arm, but she snatched it from him. Her heel struck the humming surface, low. It boomed this time, a drum.

"She'll bring the wrath of the Ravenna down on us—" Collum started.

"So you do believe the Ancientlady may still live," panted Maruha with some satisfaction.

"Help me," Brandl exclaimed, trying to get hold of her again. "She's—"

He broke off abruptly. All four of them stopped, the three duaroughs falling back. Only the pale girl remained planted, staring as, upon the surface of the barrier, the head and shoulders of a man—much larger than life—suddenly shivered into being. His face was broad, with strong, high cheeks, his nose flattened and the nostrils flared. His skin was very dark, his tightly curled hair peppered with grey. He was wearing what might have been a tunic, black and silver. He seemed startled, disconcerted, and therefore fierce.

"Who knocks so at the port?" he demanded. "This City is closed."

His countenance alarmed the girl, but she glared back at the image, unable to answer. The three duaroughs came forward hesitantly.

"We… we seek the counsel of the Ravenna," Maruha began. "We have an upperlander who needs her aid."

The image of the man frowned and studied them. "Many need our aid," he answered presently, "but we cannot give it. Weightier matters occupy us. Do you not know of our instructions that no one is to disturb this City until we ourselves reopen it? How did you enter? The airlocks are barred."

"If by airlocks you mean gates leading to the desert outside—" Collum stammered. He looked terrified. "We did not come that way. We came by underpaths. We are duaroughs."

"I can see that," the dark man's image snapped.

"We thought all those gates sealed as well, and the service ports. I'm surprised the alarms didn't sound. No matter. By whatever path you entered, take yourselves off by the selfsame—"

"But we can't!" Brandl cried. "There are weaselhounds and trolls."

The other sighed in agitation. "Yes, of course. Oriencor's brood. I'd forgotten. Very well. I will open one of the airlocks for you and let you out into the desert."

"We'll turn to stone when Solstar rises!" Collum exclaimed.

"We'll starve," Brandl beside him said.

"Please, sir," Maruha begged. She was panting again, holding her injured arm, near the end of her strength. "We must see the Ravenna. This girl has the Witch's pin behind her ear—"

"That is not our concern!" the dark man's image answered sharply. "We cannot attend to you."

The pale girl growled. Desperate rage welled in her. She struck the man's image with the heel of her hand. The stone vibrated with a dull thrum, and the picture shimmered for a moment before reforming.

His features flinched in surprise, then clouded with anger.

"Pardon, sir," Maruha cried hurriedly. "She is a child and has been injured by the Witch. Let us in, we beg you. The Ravenna…"

"Has seen no one from outside the Dome in a thousand years." The man's black eyes turned on her impatiendy. "Now be off. I will not admit you."

Collum and Brandl shifted uneasily. Baring her teeth, the girl prepared to fly at him again.

"But you must," Maruha pleaded.

"No!" the other began.

"Yes, Melkior," another voice cut in quietly. "You must." The words were low and musical, a woman's voice. The pale girl relaxed even as the three duaroughs started and cast about, for the speaker was nowhere to be seen. The image of the dark man, too, glanced startled to one side. "Admit them, Melkior," the deep, sweet voice of the unseen speaker said. "I will aid them."

The girl stood alone in a sumptuous room. How long since she had entered the great hall through the black doorway, she did not know—an hour? Two? After the woman's words, the dark, shimmering force diat had buzzed and barred diem abrupdy vanished. Presendy Melkior—the man himself—had appeared, life-sized now, no longer the great magnified image. Nevertheless he was very tall, towering over the pale girl. The duaroughs came scarcely to his sash. He led them in graciously enough, but with his mouth tight, brow furrowed in agitation.

The girl followed him eagerly down long, empty corridors, past dark, glinting galleries. In some of them, lights moving in the walls were making patterns: rose, yellow, violet, green. Nowhere were any lamps lit or any windows to be seen, but the darkness of the hall did not unease her. They met no one.

Abruptly, their guide had halted, turning toward one wall. It parted like a curtain as he touched it, and the girl