various openings, would range from dim to almost normal. To be sure, at night, given the absence of a moon on Abydos, one would need light.
“Rodriguez!” called Brenner. “Rodriguez!”
Rodriguez must have returned to the village, but that did not really seem likely.
Perhaps Rodriguez had discovered another passage, one missed earlier, and, in a fashion typical for him, had proceeded on, precipitatously exploring it.
“Rodriguez!” called Brenner. “Rodriguez!” But he heard only the echo of his own voice in the passages. If Rodriguez had heard him, it seemed likely that he would have responded, and that, in the intricate, winding passages, Brenner would have heard the response.
Rodriguez then, thought Brenner, must not be in the passages.
At least it seemed unlikely.
He has looked about, and found nothing useful, thought Brenner, and then he has returned to the village, for scarps, to come back this very night!
He should have told me, thought Brenner. It is not like him to have gone on alone.
But perhaps he did not see me, thought Brenner. Perhaps he thought that I had left.
“Rodriguez!” called Brenner.
Perhaps he did not want to take the time to come back for me, thought Brenner. Perhaps he expects me to wait for him, here.
The pack is gone, thought Brenner. Thus, he must either be looking for me in the passages, or has gone to the village. And it seems unlikely he is in the passages, or he would have responded to my calls. Thus he must have left for the village. Why would he not have called for me? Perhaps he did. Perhaps he thinks I have already left for the village, going back through the passages, thinking that I was following him, or even back about the cliffs, back by the valley, rather than through the passages?
But that did not seem likely.
Brenner then went back to the opening and examined it, carefully. There, by the light, where the wind could blow, there was little dust. It was hard to see footprints there, and, back in the passages, the dust, of course, had been disturbed earlier by their passage. Brenner saw no other footprints, however, as nearly as he could judge.
Brenner then re-entered the passages.
He made his way amongst them for a time.
I will go back to the village, he thought.
Suddenly, for no reason that he clearly understood, in the darkness of one of the passages, one remote from the openings, he began to sweat with terror. He was at that time feeling his way, groping about the walls. Suddenly then, for no good reason, or none that he could understand, he had become panic-stricken.
“Rodriguez!” he cried out, in the darkness. “Rodriguez! Rodriguez!”
Then he cried out, suddenly. “Is anyone there? Is anything there?”
But there was no answer.
He did not know what might be in such passages, if anything, or, really, on the route back, or in the forest.
In the darkness, reaching out, he felt more than one of the giant sarcophagi.
I am lost, thought Brenner, suddenly, frightened.
He had the eerie feeling that perhaps the lids on the sarcophagi might move, sliding to one side, with grating sounds, and that things might emerge, joining him in the darkness.
I will never find my way out, thought Brenner. I will die here!
No, thought Brenner. I must be rational. This is not a labyrinth. These are tombs. It is not as though these were some measureless caverns, which might lead anywhere, even into the bowels of the earth. Too, it is not after dark. That is good. He then counted turnings, and felt the walls at corners, to note any irregularities, to prevent as best he might any unwitting retracing of his path, and then, at last, as he groped his way about, he could see a bit of dimness, or, at least, a space that seemed less dark. In a few minutes, following what seemed to be the lighter passages, he blinked against the light of the outside. He had come to one of the entrances. This was one of those in the side of the cliffs. He could even see the cliffs on the other side, those from the summit of which one could look down and see the platform, and, even, far off, the village.
“Rodriguez!” called Brenner, once again.
Now Brenner was again angry. How rude of Rodriguez, who, to be sure, was noted neither for his tact or civility, to have returned to the village without him, without even informing him of his intention. He resolved to berate his colleague liberally when he encountered him