"You talk too much," broke in Aga harshly. "Let's get on into the cave." Green could appreciate what Aga's comment meant. Miran had lost face because he'd allowed his vessel to be wrecked and his Clansmen murdered en masse. To Aga and the other women he was no longer Captain Miran, the rich patriarch. He was Miran, the shipwrecked sailor. A fat old sailor. Just that. Nothing more. He could have redeemed himself if he had committed suicide. But his eagerness to live had resulted in his placing himself on an even lower level in their estimation. Miran must have realized this, for he did not reply. Instead he stood to one side. Green walked thirty paces into the cave, then looked back over his shoulder. The entrance was still visible, an arch outlined in the bright moonshine. Someone coughed. Green was about to caution them to keep quiet, when he felt his nostrils tickling and had to fight to down a loud sneeze himself. "Dust." "Good," said Green. "Maybe they never come down here." Suddenly the tunnel turned at right angles, to the left. The little light that penetrated from the entrance disappeared in total blackness. The party halted. "What if there are traps set for intruders?" wailed Inzax. "That's a chance well have to take," Green growled. "We'll go in the dark until we come to another turn. Then we'll light up a torch or two. The natives won't be able to see the glow." He walked ahead feeling the wall with his left hand. Suddenly he stopped. Amra bumped into him. "What is it?" she asked anxiously. "The rock wall has now become metal. Feel here." He guided her hand. "You're right," she whispered. "There's a definite seam, and I can tell the difference between the two!" "The floor's metal, too," added Soon. "My feet are bare, and I can feel it. What's more, the dust is all gone." Green went ahead, and after thirty more paces he came to another ninety-degree turn, to the right. The walls and floor were composed of the smooth, cool metal. After making sure that the entire party was around the corner, he told a woman carrying some torches taken from a long house to light one. Its bright flare showed the group staring round-eyed at the large chamber in which they stood. Everywhere were bare gray metal walls and floors. No furniture of any kind. Nor a speck of dust. "There's a doorway to another room," he said. "We might as well go on in." He took the torch from the woman and, holding a cutlass in the other, he led the way. Once across the threshold he halted. This room was even larger than the other. But it had furnishings of a sort. And its further wall was not metal but earth. At the same time the room began to brighten with light coming from an invisible source. Soon screamed and threw herself against her mother, clinging desperately to her waist. The babies began howling, and the other adults acted in the various ways that panic affected them.