Phthor Read Online Free PDF Page A

thrived. It was evident that the conditions it required for propagation existed here in the bright cavern, as well as on its native planet. In fact, his lone sprig had fissioned into twins, then four, and Arlo had rooted new plants and grown them to seeding maturity. Now they were radiating, becoming separate varieties, some larger, some greener, some hardier than others. He was trying to crossbreed them with the cavern glowmoss, to achieve a glowing of hvee unique in the universe, and was having some success. Arlo was not experienced enough to realize how remarkable this achievement was, or how it reflected on Chthon’s ability to control the processes of the life within the caverns.
    He stopped beside his most promising alcove, where a new variation grew. This plant was blue, and—yes—it did glow slightly! The first blue-glow crossbreed! He held out his hand to it, and the plant shied away from him. It did not actually move; this was an emotional thing. The leaves nearest him drooped subtly, signifying negation.
    Shocked, he retreated. Never before had any of his plants rejected him! What did this mean?
    He approached another hvee, a more conventional green one. It, too, avoided him. Thus it was no peculiarity of the hybrid, but something between him and the hvee. And because of what the hvee was, that was awful.
    Chthon! he cried mentally. But even the god rejected him. There was no contact.
    This shook him fundamentally. Suddenly it was too much. Arlo ran from the garden, into one of the round exit tunnels, following it up to its intersection with another, and on in an intricate ascent. He did not know exactly what he was running from.
    Then he realized that he was headed toward the cave of the Norns. Yes—they could explain this. His subconscious had guided him truly. He continued on through the intricate network, avoiding pitfalls and dangers that would have wiped out any person or creature not completely familiar with these bypaths. He maneuvered through canyons and corkscrews, crossing the paths of caterpillars and the labyrinth of a small dragon, and came at last to the cave.
    It was a ledge behind the tall waterfall, about halfway up the cavern wall. Here the river was comparatively narrow, for it was falling rapidly. It formed a flattish translucent sheet that screened the ledge, wafting cool spray-mist across it. On the other side, he knew, that spray dissipated in the air, helping form the clouds that occasionally added their rain to the plants below. Sometimes he wished he could fly among those clouds, penetrating their mysteries as readily as he penetrated those of the smaller tunnels. But such wishes were mild. He would have felt at peace here, were it not the lair of the Norns.
    They came out of their dark hole, three human figures. They were zombies: two complete, the third half.
    The half-woman stepped toward him. “Yes we can tell you, Arlo, son of Aton,” she said. “If we would.” She was actually rather sensual, with large, well-formed breasts, a small waist, unwrinkled skin, and flowing black hair. Arlo had no notion how old she was; it was impossible to tell with zombies. Probably fifty or sixty years, for her eyes were slits through which an ancient hunger shone.
    Arlo drew up to the edge of their ledge and waited, not speaking. It did not surprise him or alarm him that Verthandi should know his mission without being told; that was the nature of the Norns. Their visions derived from Chthon, who of course knew everything. Yet they were not entirely of Chthon, for some human elements remained, especially in Verthandi. Their perspective differed.
    The half-woman reached out her hand to intersect the waterfall. Spray shot out to douse Arlo. She had uncanny aim! “My sisters will answer you,” she said, “But they must touch you.”
    Because they were blind. Something in the zombie process had destroyed their sight and much of their hearing, so that they were largely dependent on tactile input.