Metamorphosis - Jean Lorrah [28]
It appeared whole but scarred. When he used the right instrument on it back on the ship, it would meld together as if it had never been torn. Thelia was shivering.
“I am sorry,” said Data. “It still disturbs you to know what I am.”
“No!” she said, shuddering even more strongly.
“I’m cold!” She began rummaging in her pack as she added, “The gods are listening to us, Data.
I wanted to know what you are, so they showed me-and then showed me that I need your help.” She shook out a cloak of some material much like wool, and wrapped it about herself. “Be careful what you ask, here in the gods’ sacred place. Often, they give it, but never without exacting a price.” “I will,” he replied. “I think, though, that if there are other things I should know about the Quest, you had better tell me before we go on.” “There are only two others. A wrong choice brings a penalty, and we must watch for guideposts.”
“Guideposts?”
“Objects, or even living creatures which are clues when there is a choice to be made. A white animal must always be followed. But most guideposts are more subtle, and if you miss one you will certainly be delayed, and may even fail the Quest.”
“Let us hope that will not happen,” Data said.
The temperature had dropped while they were working on Data’s hand. It made no difference to him, but Thelia needed her cloak.
“Can you go on for a while before you must rest?” 78 Data asked her. “We may be able to find a warmer spot, or some means to build a fire.”
“I am ready,” she agreed, and they resumed their climb. Their way continued to be lit by dim fluorescence. Data watched for anything they might use for a fire, but there was no organic matter except the lichen. Thelia could not go on indefinitely without rest, but the temperature was by now low enough that she would be miserably uncomfortable, even wrapped in her cloak. Sleep would benefit her little under those conditions.
The trail turned between high rock walls, twisting so as to hide from their sight anything more than a few paces ahead, winding and backtracking incessantly. Although they took many steps, they made little progress. There seemed no purpose in such a passage except to tire Thelia even further. She stopped at last, wiping sweat from her brow, but shivering from a combination of the cold and fatigue. “This has to be the right path,” she said uncertainly. “We have been offered no other choice.”
“Are you capable of going on?” Data asked.
“We must go on,” Thelia insisted. “It is the only way to succeed in the Quest.”
Thelia began to explain the lore of the Quest as they walked along-but after less than fifty meters of twists and turns their way was blocked by a wall with two doors.
“We must choose one,” Thelia said.
“Why not both?” asked Data, grasping a knob in either hand. Both doors were locked. For the moment, he did not try to break the locks. The gods were aware 79 of his android strength, so probably this was a test of something else. “Do you know anything about a key?” he asked Thelia. “If there is one, we must have it with us,” she replied. “I do not have one.”
“Nor I. Where I come from, doors open to one’s voice or palmprint, or just one’s presence.”
“Really?” she asked. “Perhaps these are also magical doors.” She stepped up beside him.
“Doors, I am Thelia of Atridia. Will either of you open to me?” The door on the left swung open, revealing a meadow, some cultivated fields, a patch of woodland, and in the distance a fair-size town dominated by a castle that seemed to come straight out of a fairy tale. “It’s home!” Thelia exclaimed. But when Data started to step through she put her hand on his arm. “Nolook there.” She pointed to a pile of objects only a few paces inside the door.