It may have been that at first my eyes were not accustomed to the
greater darkness, and that presently, with expanding pupils, I began
to see. That, of course. But now I was aware of that sheen of light,
inherent to the rocks of this strange little world. A vaguely luminous,
opalescent sheen which grew in intensity as we advanced so that it
illumined the darkness with a weird, beautiful glitter.
I saw now that we were advancing into a widening tunnel. Already it was
some fifty feet wide, with lifting ceiling so that presently I could
only dimly see it, far up as it glistened in the opalescent light.
Moisture was up there--a myriad tiny drops, glittering like opalescent
gems in the eerie glow. Occasionally one would drop and hit my face.
Steadily the jabbering little crowd, with excited guttural voices,
pushed forward. I had the feeling at first that we were descending;
this winding, broadening tunnel going downward at an ever increasing
angle. Then presently it was as though the tunnel were level and as
we advanced, the whole little Zurian world seemed turning forward and
up over us. All in the viewpoint. Up or down; top or bottom--they are
meaningless terms except for comparison.
It was growing steadily colder now. The roof moisture seldom dropped.
Ice formations were everywhere here. There was a place where the roof
was suddenly much lower, so that I could see an intricate lacery of
ice-clusters up there, prismatic with glorious colors. Like stalagmites
here on the tunnel floor, the ice stood in great columns, crinkled,
glittering with a myriad facets of sparkling sheen. There were other
tunnels crossing us now. I tried to imagine how far we had gone.
Certainly a mile.
Then I was aware, as we rounded a curve, that ahead of us the shining
passage was opening up into some sort of apartment. The light-sheen
there was more intense. The crowd of Zurians had fallen silent now; and
as another passage crossed us at an angle, our immediate captors herded
most of their fellows away. Silently we advanced, with three Zurians
gripping each of us. It was as though now we were advancing into some
sacred place, so that our captors were suddenly respectfully silent.
"What the devil," Carruthers muttered, as I was shoved close to him.
We came out of the tunnel. I had a quick glimpse of a big blue-white
ice-grotto here--walls glittering with an opalescent sheen on hanging
veils of ice. And then I gasped; stared, numbed.
The Ice Maiden! The girl Alan and I had seen through the _Planeteer's_
telescope! At the end of the grotto, perhaps a hundred feet from us
now, on a small raised dais, she reclined on a pile of white furs. Her
head and shoulders were raised on one elbow, her graceful pink-white
limbs half revealed by the short white fur garment draped over her
loins and breasts. Her hair, blue-white as spun ice, fell in profusion
over her shoulders, framing her small oval face that was beautiful with
a perfection of earth-beauty!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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