Garan the Eternal by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online Page A

she wouldcall him back! His pride sent him on. But it was Sera. Her head thrust forward until she truly resembled a reptile.
    “Fool! Morgel!” she spat. “Even the Black Ones did not treat her so. Get you out of the Place of Women lest they divide your skin among them!”
    Garin ignored her torrent of reproach as well as he could. He seized upon one of the Folk as guide and sought the laboratories. Far beneath the surface of Tav, where the light-motes shone ghostly in the gloom, they came into a place of ceaseless activity, where there were tables crowded with instruments, coils of glass and metal tubing, and other equipment and supplies. This was the focusing point for ceaseless streams of the Folk. On a platform at the far end, Garin saw the tall son of the Ancient Ones working on a framework of metal and shining crystal.
    Dandtan glanced up in greeting as Garin joined him. Soon he was issuing instructions—and thus Garin became extra hands and feet for Dandtan. They worked feverishly to build their defenses against the lifting of the Mists. Since there was no day or night in the laboratories, they were able to work steadily for long periods. Twice they went to the Chamber of Renewing, but save for these trips to the upper ways they were not out of the laboratories through all those days. Of Thrala there was no sign, nor did any one speak of her.
    The Cavern dwellers were depending upon two defenses: an evil green liquid, to be thrown in frail glass globes, and a screen charged with energy. Shortly before the lifting of the Mists, these arms were transported to the entrance and installed there. Dandtan and Garin made a last inspection.
    “Kepta makes the mistake of underrating his enemies,” Dandtan reflected, feeling the edge of the screen caressingly. “When I was captured, on the day my people died, I was sent to the Black Ones’ laboratories so that their knowledge seekers might learn the secrets of the Ancient Ones. But I proved a better pupil than teacher and I discovered the defense against the Black Fire. After I had learned that, Kepta grew impatient with my supposed stupidity and tried to use me to force Thrala to his will. For that, as for other things, shall he pay—and the payment will not be in coin of his own striking. Let us think of that . . .” He turned to greet Urg and Trar and the other leaders of the Folk, who had approached unnoticed.
    Among them stood Thrala, her gaze fixed upon the crystalwall between them and the thinning Mist. She noticed Garin no more than she did the Anas playing with her train and the women whispering behind her. But Garin stepped back into the shadows—and what he saw was not weapons of war, but cloudy black hair and graceful white limbs veiled in splendor.
    Urg and one of the other chieftains bore down upon the door lever. With a protesting squeak, the glass wall disappeared into the rock. The green of Tav beckoned them out to walk in its freshness; it was renewed with lusty life. But in all that expanse of meadow and forest there was a strange stillness.
    “Post sentries,” ordered Dandtan. “The Black Ones will come soon.”
    He beckoned Garin forward as he spoke to Thrala: “Let us go to the Hall of Thrones.”
    But the Daughter did not answer his smile. “It is not fitting that we should spend time in idle talk. Let us go instead to call upon the help of those who have gone before us.” So speaking, she darted a glance at Garin as chill as the arctic lands beyond the lip of Tav, and then swept away with Sera bearing her train.
    Dandtan stared at Garin. “What has happened between you two?”
    Garin shook his head. “I don’t know. No man is born with an understanding of women—”
    “But she is angered with you. You must know why.”
    For a moment Garin was tempted to tell the truth: that he dared not break any barrier she chose to raise, lest he seize what in honor was none of his. But he shook his head mutely. Neither of them saw Thrala again until