place were cast into a moonlight sort of glow. She gazed around,
unable to take it in, seeing nothing at first but giant shapes of
mystery, unknown things in stacks and in tumbled heaps, figures like
grotesque statues, all lined in rows the length and breadth of the giant
cavern.

The cave itself was square, perhaps a hundred feet to a side. It must
have taken scores of miners months of work to hew it out of the rock.
Unwilling to show interest, she still had to ask, "When did you make
this?"

"We didn't make it, Lady. We found it. No man alive made this place."

"How do you know?"

"The miners would know it. We broke through the wall only yesterday."

"What are these things?"

"You know as much as I do." He was looking at her in the way her father
sometimes looked at rucker serving women, as though she had no clothes
on at all. She had little modesty, society was lax when it came to such
things as clothing, and frequently she had ridden the streets of Dolfya
Town in a suit of transparent silk that made the ruck gape and blush;
but this very personal scrutiny made her shield her breasts with one arm
as she stared back at him.

"I've changed my mind about you," she said pleasantly.

"Yes?" Did the swine look eager?

"I have ... you won't be hunted by the pack. You'll be flayed alive,
inch by inch, with white-hot needles of iron, starting with your feet
and working upward. And I'll watch."

He laughed. "You _are_ a wench," he said admiringly. Then he turned and
appeared to forget her as he began to inspect the contents of the
cavern. After a moment she wandered off to look at them herself.

Nearest lay a long wooden chest, on which were arranged certain
contrivances that looked like guns, except that they were short, no more
than a foot long; they had triggers and barrels and small curved stocks,
so they must be guns! No one had ever seen a gun under four feet long.
She looked for the ramrods, but there were none on the chest. Possibly
they were cached inside it.

Over the chest in an arch that covered the entire top was a sheet of
almost invisible stuff that she touched fearfully. She had never seen
anything like it--like frozen water! Hard and cold ... She thought of
the oiled paper in her father's windows. A sheet of this substance in a
window would be a magnificent possession, the envy of every squire in
Dolfya. Oiled paper was semi-transparent, while this stuff was like a
piece of air.

*