"Right," he said. "I thought it was mumbo jumbo myself. An Aboriginal friend that I used to cave with swore he had seen some pretty weird shit, but I never believed him."

Distracted, Ashley pushed the little hoofed creature aside as it tried to get underfoot. It bleated and took off down a side passage. "What's the connection between a previously undiscovered tribe of evolved marsupials in Antarctica and Aborigines in Australia?"

"Hell if I know. But that drawing you discovered in the cliff dwellings in Alpha Cavern-the oval with the lightning bolt through it-makes me wonder."

"What?"

"Remember when I told you I had seen them before? In Aboriginal cave paintings?"

She nodded. "Some sort of spirit guides of the Aborigines."

"Right, the ones who supposedly taught early Aborigines how to hunt. The Mimis."

The old man glanced backward at them. He mumbled something. "Gota trif'luca mimi'swee."

Both Ben and she looked at each other. "You're the telepathic one," she said. "What did he say?"

Ben shrugged and shook his head.

The old one seemed to sense their confusion and sighed heavily. He pointed at his chest. "Mimi'swee." He waved to encompass the entire warren of village tunnels. "Mimi'swee."

"I still don't get it," Ben said.

Ashley held up a hand. "Mee… mee… swee," she stammered, concentrating on the correct pronunciation. She pointed a finger at the old man.

His old neck creaked up and down; then he turned away.

Ashley stumbled in shock. This was impossible. "He was telling us the name of his tribe. The Mimi'swee," she said. Then, under her breath, she uttered, "Mimis, the Aboriginal rock spirits. They're one and the same."

Ben's eyes widened with sudden understanding. Before he could say anything, the tunnel emptied into a large cavern, lit by fungus on the walls and ceiling. Ashley stared in awe at the columns supporting the distant roof, but it wasn't the rocky colonnades that drew her attention. It was the thick growth that wrapped around the columns, sprouting white limbs laden with a pulpy red fruit, hanging like Japanese lamps.

"Damn," said Ben from behind her. "Not here again."

Ben hesitated before following Ashley and their old guide into the chamber. He studied the room, expecting to hear ghost voices or see his grandfather moving in the shadows. But neither occurred. On closer inspection the fruity growths were the only similarity between this chamber and his dream cavern. The formations were all wrong, and the growths weren't nearly as thick or leafy as in his dream. Taking a deep breath, he followed Ashley's slim back.

Ashley stopped, reaching up to one of the red fruits. "I think they're a type of mushroom," she said, breathless, nodding toward the growth. "Notice the lack of leaf structure. The interconnecting root system. Hyphaelike. Linda would go ape-shit over this stuff."

"Speaking of Linda," Ben said, "this is all very fascinating, but we have friends depending on us."

"I know, Ben. I know. I haven't forgotten. Maybe with the Mimis' rudimentary grasp of our language, they can tell us a way up from here."

"Well, let's ask!"

Ashley shook her head and continued deeper after the old man. "First we need to gain their confidence. Your stunt in escaping those predators helped, but they still seem suspicious of us. Wary. We need to proceed cautiously, or we might still find our heads on the block."

By now they had reached the center of the chamber. Here the floor was clear of the rocky columns and their bulbous growths. A shallow pit was carved into the center of the floor about a hand span deep. Around the declivity, the stone was polished to a glassy sheen and blood-colored drawings encircled the central pit.

The old man leaned on his staff on the far side of the clearing.

"My god! Look at the detail!" Ashley said, leaving Ben's side to study a drawing closer up. She knelt to peer at a depiction of a creature being attacked by a group of tiny warriors. "Look, the red paint is the same color as those weird fruits. The mushrooms are probably some type of home-grown dye."

"Great," he said sarcastically. "Some freakin' artist's den."

"No, I think it's a religious place. Primitive cultures place great stock in graven images. Idols, statues, paintings, that sort of thing. Give me a few minutes to study these. Maybe I can learn something." She slid over to examine the next picture, not even bothering to glance at him.

Ben felt the stare of other eyes, like in his dream, drilling into the back of his skull. He turned around.

The old man stood on the far side, sparing only a quick glance at Ashley before settling those gray eyes back on him. The elder nodded and sat cross-legged down on the floor, his staff balanced across his knees. He motioned for Ben to do the same.

Lowering to the floor, Ben finally noticed how tired his legs were. It had to be evening by now. Late evening. With a rattling sigh, he settled to the hard floor. Stretching a kink out of his back, he allowed his body to slump into a relaxed pose. He dreamed of a tall bottle of warm beer.

Glancing up, he noticed the old man staring at him, not uttering a sound, just peering across at him with those intent gray eyes. He seemed to want something. But what?

Ben smiled across at him one of his patented "charmers" that was known to turn a crocodile into a pussycat. But the elder only frowned back at him, his gaze still expectant. Well, stuff him then, Ben thought, letting his lids drift closed as he relaxed further. He had solved enough mysteries for one day. Now he only wanted to find a soft spot to sleep. His chin slowly sank to his chest. Maybe just a nap.

He drifted into a hazy land, half aware of the tiny noises Ashley made as she scuffled from drawing to drawing. It felt so good to release the pressures of the day, allowing them to seep into the rock. His breathing deepened and a slight snore rattled from his nose. If only he could-

"Ben! Benny boy. Wake it up there, son!"

Ben's eyes snapped open. Who the hell…? He still sat in the same cavern, the ring of columns and pulpy fruit surrounding him. But instead of the old creature, his grandfather sat cross-legged across the pit. He waved a liver-spotted hand in his direction. Ben glanced around. The place was otherwise empty. Not even Ashley was there. He craned his neck, peering. That was odd; he could still hear her, moving off to the left, mumbling something, but she was invisible.

"Benny, whatcha lookin' for?"

"Where am I?"

His grandfather lifted a finger crooked with arthritis and pointed to his skull. "In here, my boy."

Ben took a deep breath, his heart beginning to beat faster. This was insane. His grandfather and the chamber began to fade to blackness.

"Whoa there, boy. Ya need to calm yourself. Can't get all riled up, or this here won't work."

Swallowing hard, Ben began to get an inkling of what was going on. He concentrated on letting his body relax, starting with his toes and working up. The imagery around him intensified with clarity.

"There ya go, Benny. That's better."

He concentrated on breathing evenly and deeply as he spoke. "You're not my grandfather."

"No, I'm not." His grandfather smiled slightly, then his image slowly shrunk and swirled, his brow thickening, his eyes widening; a staff appeared resting across his knees. The swirling settled into the figure of the old crippled creature. "This is, of course, my true image. I am called Mo'amba."

The elder's voice still sounded like his grandfather. It was disconcerting to hear it coming from such an alien face. "How? Why?" Questions tumbled in his mind.

"Benny, neither of us speaks the other's language. So I speak to you with the language of the mind. My thoughts are translated by your mind into images and words you understand."