Five steps, ten, twelve. Dumarest concentrated on the girl. Another three steps, five, seven-and he felt a mild tingle. Eight more and the girl halted.

"Earl. It's behind us. The thing I could krang."

A risk, but it had to be taken. Dumarest opened his eyes.

Behind him he heard Pacula gasp, Marek's voice, high, incredulous.

"By God, we've done it! We've passed through the door! We're in the city!"

Chapter Thirteen

They stood in a vast chamber, the curved roof high above suffused with an opalescent sheen of light; colored gleams which filled the place with broken rainbows. The floor was smooth, polished, made of some adamantine material, seamless and traced with a pattern of sinuous lines. The curved wall was pierced with a rounded opening several times the height of a man.

"The entrance hall." Marek's voice was clear, the place devoid of echoes as it was of shadows. "The area beyond the door, and we're in it."

But not all. Dumarest said, "Where's Timus?"

"He was behind me." Sufan Noyoka looked up, around, down toward the floor. "I felt his hand slip from my shoulder. I don't know just when."

Before he had reached the wall, his own eyes and disbelief maintaining the barrier. In Dumarest's arms Usan Labria stirred, muttering, still fogged with sleep-inducing drugs. Her eyes cleared as he held a vial beneath her nostrils, crushing the ampule and releasing chemical vapors to clear her blood.

"Earl?"

"It's all right," he soothed. "We're in the city."

"The city!" She freed herself from his support and stood, looking around. "Yes," she whispered. "We must be. You kept your promise, Earl. My thanks for that. But how?"

"Embira guided us."

"Blind, she couldn't see the wall," explained Marek. "But she sensed the presence of a force field of some kind. A means to open the matter of the wall, perhaps, while maintaining the illusion it was solid. A door built on a unique pattern. One which-" He broke off, shrugging. "Does it matter? We're inside, that's all that counts."

"Inside!" She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders, summoning the dregs of her energy. Impatiently she brushed aside Pacula's hand. "Don't coddle me, girl, I'll be all right. Stay with Embira, she'll need a guide." She frowned, aware of the absence of the engineer. "Timus?"

"He isn't with us," said Sufan. "He must still be outside, but it is of no importance. Alone he can't handle the Mayna. All he can do is wait."

Wait as the colored suns traced their path across the sky, alone in the brooding silence, faced with the blank enigma of the city. How long would he remain patient? Dumarest lacked Sufan's conviction that the engineer was helpless. A clever man could rig remote controls and, desperate, Timus might try to navigate the Cloud on his own. A gamble which he couldn't win, but one he would try given time enough.

Stepping to the wall, Dumarest rested his hand on the surface. It felt as before, neither hot nor cold, the material solid against his pressure.

"Embira, has anything changed?"

"The aura has gone, Earl." She faced him as he stood against the wall. "I can krang another, more distant."

The bulk of the vessel containing the residual energies of the field. While she could discern it they had a point of directional reference-but until the door opened again they were trapped unless they could find another way to leave the city.

Sufan shrugged when Dumarest mentioned it.

"We'll find a way, Earl. Now let us see what is to be found."

"But with caution," warned Marek. "The door could have given an alarm and the city might still contain some form of life. It would be as well to move carefully."

A conclusion Dumarest had already reached. All, aside from Embira and the old woman, carried packs, canteens, and were armed. He checked the gun hanging on its strap from his shoulder.

"If we see anything hold your fire. If we are attacked wait until I shoot. Marek, you take the rear, Sufan, you stay with the women."

"I will-"

"Do as he says, Sufan," snapped Usan. "One of us at least must keep a clear head. We've come too far to be beaten now and an error could cost us all our lives." She sucked in her breath and fumbled at her locket, slipping a pill between her lips. "But hurry, Earl. Hurry!"

They moved toward the opening, feeling like ants in a cathedral, stunned by the vastness of the chamber. Another opened beyond, smaller, set with an opening through which smooth ramps led up and down. Their roofs were of some lustrous substance which threw a nacreous glow. The air was thick, slightly acrid. Dumarest could see no trace of dust.

"An entrance hall," mused Marek. "Ramps which must lead to other chambers. Assuming this place held life similar to ours there will be living accommodation and recreational areas."

"Up or down?"

"Up, Earl. Below must lie machines and storerooms, cess pits, perhaps, a means of sewage disposal. Already the pattern begins to take form. Give me time and I will draw a map of the city."

"We want the treasure," said Usan Labria. "Just the treasure."

"Then we must head toward the central spire." Marek stepped toward one of the openings. "This one, Earl."

A guess, but it was as good as any, and Dumarest led the way toward it. The ramp rose steeply after a hundred feet then leveled as it broke into another chamber also set with openings. A series of them so that, within minutes, they passed through a maze of connecting rooms all appearing exactly alike.

Pacula said uncertainly, "We could become lost. How can we be sure of finding the way back?"

"We're not lost." Marek was confident. "Always we take the central opening and climb upward."

"This reminds me of something." Usan looked around, frowning. "A bee hive? No. An ant hill? An ant hill! Earl! This place is like an ant hill."

Short passages and endless chambers all alike, none with distinctive characteristics. A prison was like that, a place built for a strictly utilitarian function without concession to artistry. The mere fact of living in such a place would mold the residents into a faceless whole, all individuality repressed by the endless monotony of the surroundings. Men, held in such an environment, would become abnormal.

Had the city been built by men?

There was no way of telling. A single chair would have given a clue as to shape and form, a table, a scrap of decoration, but the chambers were devoid of all furnishings, the openings providing the only break in the seamless construction, the sole decoration that of the sinuous lines.

They ran thin and black against the pale gray of the floor, following no apparent order, twisting to bunch into knots, opening to splayed fans.

Directional signs? A means to tell the inhabitants exactly where they were in the city?

"It's possible, Earl," admitted Marek when Dumarest spoke of it. "We have street signs and numbers, insects have scent-trails; whoever built this place could have had their own system. But to break the cipher would take too long. And it isn't necessary. All we have to do is to reach the spire."

And the treasure if treasure was to be found. But five hours later they were still no closer to where it might be.

* * *

"We're lost!" Sufan Noyoka glared his impatience. "So much for your skill, Marek. Give me time, you said, and you would produce a map of the city. Well?"

"A delay." Marek spread his hands, smiling, but his tone was sharp. "Do you expect a miracle? Those who built this place were clever. The chambers, the passages, all follow a mathematical precision designed to confuse. There are subtle turns and windings."

Dumarest said, "How far are we from the gate?"

"Who can tell? Without any point of orientation-"