The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

laughed. “Thus the eternal curiosity of women!”
    “Garin.”
    “Garin,” she repeated. “How like—” A faint rose glowed beneath her pearl flesh.
    Dandtan’s hand fell lightly upon his rescuer’s shoulder. “Indeed he is like him. From this day let him bear that other’s name. Garan, son of light.”
    “Why not?” she returned calmly. “After all—”
    “The reward which might have been Garan’s may be his? Tell him the story of his namesake when we are again in the Caverns—”
    Dandtan was interrupted by a frightened squeak from the Ana. Then came a mocking voice.
    “So the prey has entered the trap of its own will. How many hunters may boast the same?”
    Kepta leaned against the door, the light of vicious mischief dancing in his eyes. Garin dropped his cloak to the floor, but Dandtan must have read what was in the flyer’s mind, for he caught him by the arm.
    “On your life, touch him not!”
    “So you have learned that much wisdom while you have dwelt among us, Dandtan? Would that Thrala had done the same. But fair women find me weak.” He eyed her proud body in a way that would have sent Garin at his throat had Dandtan not held him. “So shall Thrala have a second chance. How would you like to see these men in the Room of Instruments, Lady?”
    “I do not fear you,” she returned. “Thran once made a prophecy, and he never spoke idly. We shall win free—”
    “That will be as fate would have it. Meanwhile, I leave you to each other.” He whipped around the door and slammed it behind him. They heard the grating of the bar he slid into place. Then his footsteps died away.
    “There goes evil,” murmured Thrala softly. “Perhaps it would have been better if Garin had killed him as he thought to do. We must get away—”
    Garin drew the rod from his belt. The green light motes gathered and clung about its polished length.
    “Touch not the door,” Thrala advised; “only its hinges.”
    Beneath the tip of the rod the stone became spongy and flaked away. Dandtan and the flyer caught the door and eased it to the floor. With one quick movement Thrala caught up Garin’s cloak and swirled it about her, hiding the glitter of her gem-encrusted robe.
    There was a curious cold lifelessness about the air of the corridor, the light-bearing motes vanishing as if blown out.
    “Hurry!” the Daughter urged. “Kepta is withdrawing the living light, so that we will have to wander in the dark.”
    When they reached the end of the hall the light was quite gone, and Garin bruised his hands against the stone portcullis which had been lowered. From somewhere on the other side of the barrier came rippling laughter.
    “Oh, outlander,” called Kepta mockingly, “you will get through easily enough when you remember your weapon. But the dark you can not conquer so easily, nor that which runs the halls.”
    Garin was already busy with the rod. Within five minutes their way was clear again. But Thrala stopped them when they would have gone through. “Kepta has loosed the hunters.”
    “The hunters?”
    “The morgels and—others,” explained Dandtan. The Black Ones have withdrawn and only death comes this way. And the morgels see in the dark.…”
    “So does the Ana.”
    “Well thought of,” agreed the son of the Ancient Ones.
    “It will lead us out.”
    As if in answer, there came a tug at Garin’s belt. Reaching back, he caught Thrala’s hand and knew that she had taken Dandtan’s. So linked they crossed the guard room. Then the Ana paused for a long time, as if listening. There was nothing to see but the darkness which hung about them like the smothering folds of a curtain.
    “Something follows us,” whispered Dandtan.
    “Nothing to fear,” stated Thrala. “It dare not attack. It is, I think, of Kepta’s fashioning. And that which has not true life dreads death above all things. It is going—”
    There came sounds of something crawling slowly away.
    “Kepta will not try that again,”