And Varta suspected that that
might be so--the world of Erb had not always been held by the human-kind
alone.
There were supplies here too, lying untouched in ageless containers
within a lizard-skin pouch. Varta touched her tongue without fear to a
powdered restorative, sharing it with Lur, whose own mailed skin would
protect him through the dangers to come.
She folded the regalia she had stripped off and laid it in the chest,
smoothing it regretfully before she dropped the lid upon its shimmering
color. Never again would Asti's servant wear the soft stuff of His
Livery. But she was resolute enough when she picked up the food pouch
and strode forward, passing out of the robing chamber into a narrow way
which was a natural fault in the rock unsmoothed by the tools of man.
But when this rocky road ended upon the lip of a gorge, Varta hesitated,
plucking at the throat latch of her hood-like helmet. Through the
unclouded crystal of its eye-holes she could see the sprouts of yellow
vapor which puffed from crannies in the rock wall down which she must
climb. If the records of the Temple spoke true, these curls of gas were
death to all lunged creatures of the upper world. She could only trust
that the cunning of the scaled hood would not fail her.
The long talons fitted to the finger tips of the gloves, the claws of
the webbed foot coverings clamped fast to every hand and foot hold, but
the way down was long and she caught a message of weariness from Lur
before they reached the piled rocks at the foot of the cliff.
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