02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
The cultivated area had passed in a blur, he wasn't sure whether they passed
any of the population. They splashed through a ford and he had wits enough to realise
that this was the first water he had seen in over a thousand kilometres. They left the
ford behind and plunged on. Kane had visions of hurtling past the place with his Picun
in full command. Hammadi and his companions had different ideas. Once again, they
demonstrated their skills by reining in their own beasts and grabbing his harness as he
passed. They slowed to a respectable amble and came to a halt on a clear area of rock
at the base of the pinnacles.
Kane looked up and realised how deceptive they had appeared from the edge
of the ancient crater. They towered above the level of the clearing. He was right about
them being black. The rock was smooth, his professional interest was roused. They
were composed of a tight grained, granite-like rock, with no fissures or splits. It
would be very hard to work, but there were artificial openings at their base, leading to
the inside.
They dismounted in front of the central pinnacle. It was an unbroken shaft of
rock which towered above the others. By the time he had dismounted, they were
surrounded by a crowd of men and woman who had emerged from nowhere. They
stared at him without emotion. Hammadi called a greeting which was returned
without much enthusiasm. It was almost as if they were not welcome. Hammadi didn't
seem to be ruffled.
Dagh was loosening the ropes which held the Bole to the spare mount. The
Bole was deactivated, Dagh was in no danger. He placed it carefully in the dust. The
visiting party and the reception committee stood and stared at each other. No
comment was made about the absence of the fourth rider. Unless there had been some
sort of telepathic message, they could have had no idea of what had happened to him.
A old man, enveloped in a Kous, stepped out of the crowd and stood in front of Kane.
He bowed his head slightly.
"I bid you greeting, my Lord. You are welcome to the Caverns of the Crag."
Kane inclined his head. The old man continued.
"I am Nijah and I am a servant of the Master of Dreams. He has instructed me
to provide the comfort of an inner chamber and special facilities."
"I thank you for your greeting - and the hospitality of the Master of Dreams."
Nijah led the way through the silent group of onlookers who didn't seem any
more friendly than earlier. Kane picked up the Bole and swore silently at the weight.
They entered one of the openings in the base of the rock. Inside, there was a further
series of passages which inclined downward. Nijah took one, after a few paces, the
incline gave way to a flight of steps. The passage was quite high and wide enough to
permit easy access. The rock was as smooth as it had looked on the outside. They
must have used sophisticated tools to cut it and that implied a technology he wouldn't
have suspected.
They levelled out eventually into a broad gallery. It was a focal point of that
level. There were a number of passages leading off, some of which appeared to go
lower. The scene was lit by flaring torches of resinous wood, guttering from brackets
high in the walls.
The air was cool, he began to revive. The incessant heat had been enervating.
One thing worried him still, the ground continued to trembled, although nothing fell
from the roof. Perhaps, there was nothing left which was loose, only the roof itself
could come down.
Nijah led him further, through a series of passages to a small chamber. It was
high, even if the floor space was cramped. It had no door, just an arch of rock. There
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