furious, frightened beast, perhaps in one corner, or at the back, crouching, waiting, eyeing the door, ready to rush forward, or perhaps one prowling back and forth, or circumambulating the walls, tail lashing, confused, snarling, seeking egress, or perhaps one held at bay, snarling, baring its fangs, lifting a threatening paw, one ringed with jabbing, thrusting torches, held in the hands of tiny, terrified Pons.
But it was not like that at all.
The beast, and it was, indeed, the totem beast, as Brenner had feared, sat upon the platform, back on its haunches. Its head, on that long neck, was perhaps twenty feet above the surface of the platform. Its pointed ears were erected. The roof of the hall was not more than a few feet over its head.
The Pons in the hall were in white robes. They turned and looked at him, as he stood there, at the height of the aisle leading down toward the platform. Several of them held lighted candles. Brenner had never seen candles before in the village. He had not realized that the Pons were familiar with such objects, let alone that they might possess them. At the belts of the Pons hung small, polished scarps. They did not appear to be the same sort of scarps as were used for commonplace purposes, such as the digging of tubers. The distance between males and females, he noted, was being maintained, but, presumably because of the number of Pons in the hall, in a somewhat unusual manner. The males and females were now separated as groups, rather than as individuals; the female group, which was on a higher level in the hall, and farther from the beast, was some ten to twelve feet from the male group, which was lower, and was closer to the beast.
Brenner turned his attention again to the beast.
Yes, thought Brenner, it is old. I am sure it is old. Rodriguez had thought so. He had said so. Brenner now, too, thought so. This was suggested, somehow, more by its general appearance, by its general cast, than by specific indications such as a drab pelt, a grayness about the jaws and muzzle. Yes, thought Brenner, it is old.
The beast did not move.
Perhaps it is dead, thought Brenner, suddenly. It is so quiet.
Its fur moved a little, in some draft, perhaps from the tunnel behind it, moving toward the open doors behind Brenner. But the smoke, too, from the torches, Brenner noted, seemed to be drawn away, mostly upward, somehow. The hall was not close. It was not difficult to breathe here, even with the Pons, the torches, and the candles. The hall is ventilated, somehow, Brenner realized.
He looked again at the beast.
Perhaps it is dead, Brenner thought.
Its pupils, like vertical slits, regarded him.
No, thought Brenner, it is not dead.
Suddenly the Pons behind Brenner, those who had conducted him hither, and those who had opened the various doors, and had then followed him, began to chant:
We will kill.
We will dread.
We will fear.
We will kill.
We will mourn.
We will love.
We will love.
This chant was then taken up by the other Pons. This chant was not done loudly, rather, almost in whispers. It was soft, repetitious, insistent.
Brenner took a step down the aisle toward the platform. He grasped the pointed stick he had brought with him. The stick seemed futile to him. He did not know that he could drive it to the heart of such a beast. He might not be able to reach the heart. He was not even certain of the location of the heart of such an animal.
“We will kill, we will kill,” whispered Pons.
“We will mourn, we will love,” whispered others.
This is madness, thought Brenner. I cannot kill this thing. It is too large. It is too terrible. In the arenas of Megara, Rodriguez had told him that a hundred men with spears were pitted against one such beast.
But it must be killed. It had tasted flesh.
It was old. Perhaps that was why it had seized Rodriguez. It could not find fleeter game.
It must be killed, Brenner thought.
“We will kill, we will kill,” whispered Pons.
“We will mourn, we will love,” whispered others.
What is it doing here, Brenner asked himself. Why is it here? Why is it just sitting there?
He approached the beast more closely. He was now some seven yards from it.
“We will kill, we will kill,” whispered Pons.
“We will mourn, we will love,” whispered others.
How did it get in here, Brenner asked himself. How did it find its way in?