hostility in the Adviser's blunt responses, Jared turned his attention fully on the man. The caster tones were being harshly modulated by his expression of resentful determination.
"You don't want me up here, do you?" Jared asked frankly.
"I've advised against it. I don't hear where we can gain anything through close association with your world."
The Adviser's sullen attitude puzzled him for a moment--until he realized unification between the Upper and Lower Level would certainly affect Lorenz's established status.
The well-worn path had straightened and was now taking them along the right wall. Residential recesses cast back muffled gaps in the reflected sound pattern. And Jared sensed rather than clearly heard the knots of inquisitive people who were listening to him pass.
Presently the Adviser caught his shoulders and spun him to the right.
"This is the Wheel's grotto."
Jared hesitated, getting his bearings. The recess was a deep one with many storage shelves. In the space before the entrance there was a large slab with adequate leg room carved in its sides. From its surface came the symmetric sounds of empty manna shell bowls, giving the over-all impression of an orderly arrangement for a meal that would accommodate many persons.
"Welcome to the Upper Level! I'm Noris Anselm, the Wheel."
Jared listened to his more than amply proportioned host advance around the slab with arm extended. That the hand found his on first thrust spoke well for the Wheel's perceptive ability.
"I've heard a lot about you, my boy!" He pumped Jared's arm. "Ten Touches?"
"Of course." Jared submitted to exploring fingers that swept methodically across his face and chest and along his arms.
"Well," said Anselm approvingly. "Clean-cut features-- erect posture-
-agility--strength. I don't guess the Prime Survivor exaggerated too much.
Feel away."
Jared's hands Familiarized themselves with a stout but not flaccid physique. Absence of a chest cloth, clipped hair and beard, suggested resistance to the aging process. And lids that ificked their protest to his touch signified abiding rejection of closed eyes.
Anselm laughed. "So you've come with Declaration of Unification Intentions in mind?" He led Jared to a bench beside the slab.
"Yes. The Prime Survivor says-"
"An--Prime Survivor Fenton. Haven't heard him in some time."
"He
sends-"
"Good old Evan!" the Wheel declared expansively. "He's got a likely idea--wanting the two Levels closer. What do you think?"
"At first I--"
"Of course you do. It doesn't take much imagination to hear the advantages, does it?"
Abandoning hope of completing a sentence, Jared accepted the question as rhetorical while he concentrated on faint impressions coming from the mouth of the grotto behind him. Someone had moved out into the entrance and was silently listening on. Reflected _clacks_ fetched the outline of a youthful, feminine form.
"I said," Anselm repeated, "it doesn't take much imagination to hear the benefits of uniting the Levels."
Jared drew attentively erect. "Not at all. The Prime Survivor says there's a lot to be gained. He--"
"About this Unification. Figure you're ready for it?"
At least Jared had managed to finish one answer. But there was no point in pushing his success, so he simply said, "Yes."
"Good boy! Della's going to make a fine Survivoress. A little headstrong, perhaps. But you take my own Unification . . ."
The Wheel embarked on a lengthy dissertation while Jared's attention went back to the furtive girl. At least he knew who she was. At the mention of the name "Della," her breathing had faltered and he had heard a subjective quickening of her pulse.
The brisk, clear tones of the Wheel's voice produced sharpsounding echoes. And Jared took note of the girl's precise, smooth profile. High cheekbones accentuated the self-confident tilt of her chin. Her eyes were wide open and her hair was arranged in a style he hadn't heard before.
Swept tightly away
"You don't want me up here, do you?" Jared asked frankly.
"I've advised against it. I don't hear where we can gain anything through close association with your world."
The Adviser's sullen attitude puzzled him for a moment--until he realized unification between the Upper and Lower Level would certainly affect Lorenz's established status.
The well-worn path had straightened and was now taking them along the right wall. Residential recesses cast back muffled gaps in the reflected sound pattern. And Jared sensed rather than clearly heard the knots of inquisitive people who were listening to him pass.
Presently the Adviser caught his shoulders and spun him to the right.
"This is the Wheel's grotto."
Jared hesitated, getting his bearings. The recess was a deep one with many storage shelves. In the space before the entrance there was a large slab with adequate leg room carved in its sides. From its surface came the symmetric sounds of empty manna shell bowls, giving the over-all impression of an orderly arrangement for a meal that would accommodate many persons.
"Welcome to the Upper Level! I'm Noris Anselm, the Wheel."
Jared listened to his more than amply proportioned host advance around the slab with arm extended. That the hand found his on first thrust spoke well for the Wheel's perceptive ability.
"I've heard a lot about you, my boy!" He pumped Jared's arm. "Ten Touches?"
"Of course." Jared submitted to exploring fingers that swept methodically across his face and chest and along his arms.
"Well," said Anselm approvingly. "Clean-cut features-- erect posture-
-agility--strength. I don't guess the Prime Survivor exaggerated too much.
Feel away."
Jared's hands Familiarized themselves with a stout but not flaccid physique. Absence of a chest cloth, clipped hair and beard, suggested resistance to the aging process. And lids that ificked their protest to his touch signified abiding rejection of closed eyes.
Anselm laughed. "So you've come with Declaration of Unification Intentions in mind?" He led Jared to a bench beside the slab.
"Yes. The Prime Survivor says-"
"An--Prime Survivor Fenton. Haven't heard him in some time."
"He
sends-"
"Good old Evan!" the Wheel declared expansively. "He's got a likely idea--wanting the two Levels closer. What do you think?"
"At first I--"
"Of course you do. It doesn't take much imagination to hear the advantages, does it?"
Abandoning hope of completing a sentence, Jared accepted the question as rhetorical while he concentrated on faint impressions coming from the mouth of the grotto behind him. Someone had moved out into the entrance and was silently listening on. Reflected _clacks_ fetched the outline of a youthful, feminine form.
"I said," Anselm repeated, "it doesn't take much imagination to hear the benefits of uniting the Levels."
Jared drew attentively erect. "Not at all. The Prime Survivor says there's a lot to be gained. He--"
"About this Unification. Figure you're ready for it?"
At least Jared had managed to finish one answer. But there was no point in pushing his success, so he simply said, "Yes."
"Good boy! Della's going to make a fine Survivoress. A little headstrong, perhaps. But you take my own Unification . . ."
The Wheel embarked on a lengthy dissertation while Jared's attention went back to the furtive girl. At least he knew who she was. At the mention of the name "Della," her breathing had faltered and he had heard a subjective quickening of her pulse.
The brisk, clear tones of the Wheel's voice produced sharpsounding echoes. And Jared took note of the girl's precise, smooth profile. High cheekbones accentuated the self-confident tilt of her chin. Her eyes were wide open and her hair was arranged in a style he hadn't heard before.
Swept tightly away
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