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  Denise spent nearly half an hour walking about slowly among the perpetually slipping shapes. In the end, she was forced to go back to Pierre and tell him she could pick up nothing whatever. "My PES was always unreliable," she said. "I'm sorry."

  "Never mind." He put his arm around her and drew her to him. "I'm glad you're all right. I could only see you part of the time when you were walking about among them."

  "I'll let this part of the mine rest temporarily," he said as they started back toward the lift. "After all, the shapes may disappear spontaneously. That's the way they came."

  Goubu detached himself from the group around the lift entrance and came toward Denise and Pierre. The girl identified him by the badge he was wearing on his blue T-shirt. "Madame could do nothing?" he asked respectfully.

  "No, M'sieu Goubu. I had no success."

  "That is to be regretted," the burly man said in his heavy French. "The ore is rich here. Now the men's wages will be less. For myself, my wife and I had planned to buy ... Excuse me, Madame. I did not mean to trouble you with my affairs. Bon jour, M'sieu, Madame."

  Next day at lunch Pierre reported that the "mobile geometry" had gone up the lift shaft and was invading the level above. "Nobody knows what to do," he said. He pushed his plate away from him, the food almost untouched. "The big chief had Paris on the phone this morning. They gave him a bad quarter of an hour. A haunted mine! It's ridiculous."

  Denise tried to think of something encouraging to say. "I think it will be over by next week," she brought out at last.

  "Over? How do you mean that?"

  "I don't know. It's just a hunch."

  "You and your PES!" He got up and kissed her. "I'd better be getting back to the office. Jacques likes to have me around to listen while he's cursing and tearing his hair."

  Denise went shopping in the afternoon. She did not get done until late and then decided, though it would make dinner even later, to pick up Pierre at the office rather than going on home.

  The workers were going off shift when she got there, but they were not leaving. They were standing about in groups, talking in low voices. She did not see Goubu among them. Nobody seemed to notice her.

  Pierre was not free until after six. "What a day!" he said. "They're getting into the third level now. The shapes, I mean. I'm going to have a whiskey—yes, cherie, a double whiskey—when we get home."

  The house was dark when they approached. Denise went into the kitchen while Pierre poured himself a drink. She came back in a moment, startled and disturbed. "Marie's not in the kitchen," she said. "And look, Pierre. I found this lying on the sink."

  She held out to him a collection of objects tied together with a length of bright pink yarn. There was a sea shell with a hole in it, a long black feather, a wisp of dried grass and what looked like a piece of lizard skin. "What do you suppose it is?" she asked.

  "It looks like some sort of charm," Pierre said slowly. "You say Marie isn't here?"

  "She's not in the kitchen. And her aprons are gone. I'll look for her upstairs."

  "I'll go," he said.

  He was back shortly. "No, she's not there. I even looked in the closets."

  "In the closets? Why, what would she be doing there?"

  "I don't know. But nothing's normal any more. Put on that green dress, Denise, and we'll go out to dinner. I hear they have a new chef at La Pontiniere."

  The dinner was good, and they both felt better after they had finished the entrecote of beef and a bottle of burgundy. They sat late over their coffee, and it was almost nine when they got off the bus near their house.

  They sauntered slowly uphill, hand in hand. The night was dark. "Do you remember that vacation we spent in Lyons, cherie?" Pierre asked. "The pension had the widest double be—" Abruptly his voice stopped.

  "Pierre! What's the matter?" Denise clutched at her husband's hand. Then something dark and thick, heavy and soft like cobwebs, fell over her face. She breathed in a vapor sickeningly heavy and sweet. She tried to get her hands up to tear away the eroding softness. Then she seemed to pitch forward into a bottomless gulf.

  When Denise came to, she was lying in the dark on a surface that bounced and bumped. Her hands and feet were tied.

  At first she thought she was lying in her own bed, and wondered foggily why it shook so much. Then, as she grew more awake, she realized that she was somewhere else. Her heart began to pound.

  Where was she? What had happened? She had been walking along the path with Pierre, and—

  A groan came from the darkness beside her. She turned her head and licked her lips. She had not been gagged, but her lips and throat were so swollen she could hardly speak.

  "Pierre?" she managed to whisper at last. "Is that you?"

  There was no answer for a long time. Then she heard a low croaking, "Oui."

  "What has happened? Where do you think we are?" She had to pause between words to swallow and lick her lips.

  "In ... a truck ... I think. We've been ... kidnapped, Denise."

  -

  Chapter Nine

  The truck stopped. Denise heard the driver get out and walk around to the back. The tailgate was let down and the light of a hand torch shone in on them.

  "Bon soir, M'sieu and Madame Houdan," said a voice. "I will help you out."

  Pierre found his tongue. "Goubu," he said thickly, "you'll get into trouble for this."

  Goubu laughed. "I think not, M'sieu Pierre." He sounded pleased with himself. "I have brought M'sieu and Madame here to accomplish something in which we are all interested—getting rid of the gray shapes in the mine."

  "Do you expect to accomplish that by kidnapping us?" Pierre said.

  Goubu nodded. They could see his head dimly silhouetted against the sky. "Bien sûr. Consider, M'sieu! There might not have been trouble at your house tonight or the next night. Sooner or later, yes.

  "Some of my people, you see, are ignorant and superstitious. They think Madame is a witch, and they are angry at her. M'sieu does not know all the talk and threats I have listened to.

  "For myself, I know better. I have had a good education. I realize that Madame is a witch, but a benevolent and well-disposed one. I know she is not responsible for the difficulties in the mine.

  "Now I will help you out of the car."

  He put his arms under Denise and half-lifted, half-carried her out of the truck. He put her down on the ground with her back leaning against a paperbark tree. "Would Madame like to relieve herself?" he asked, lingering. "I cannot untie her yet, but my wife is here, and would be glad to help if ..."

  "Thank you, no," said Denise with some hauteur.

  "Bien. And now you, M'sieu Pierre." He reached in the body of the truck and brought Pierre out with, as far as Denise could see, no more difficulty than he had carried her. He put him down carefully beside the girl.

  "What are you going to do with us?" demanded Pierre.

  Goubu squatted down beside him on his hunkers and cleared his throat. "It is perfectly simple," he declared. "Madame is a witch, but her power is not great enough to tell us what to do to get rid of the moving shapes in the mine. I am going to help her increase her power."

  "H'um," said Pierre with considerable restraint. "How are you planning to do that?"

  "Again it is perfectly simple." He called, in the direction of a dimly-seen beehive-shaped hut, "Mandoué—She is my wife."

  A woman came toward them. Denise could see the faint glimmer of her white dress. She seemed to be carrying something in her hands.

  She gave it to Goubu, who had risen to his feet. "In this gourd," he said, standing in front of Denise, "is a tisane infused by my wife. If I untie Madame's hands, will she have the kindness to drink?—It does not have a disagreeable taste."

  "What is it?" Denise asked.

  Goubu hesitated. "You would not know the name of the plant. But if you drink, you will be able to tell us what is wrong in the mine."

  "Don't drink it, Denise," Pierre said sharply. "Th
e natives have many unknown plants. It may be poisonous."

  "It will do Madame no harm," Goubu said. "My wife will drink of it to show her, if she likes."

  "What if I refuse to drink, Goubu?" Denise asked.

  "Then—I regret this, Madame—then we will force you to drink."

  Denise heard Pierre draw in his breath. She felt a prickle of rage spreading over her. "You may be able to make me drink, but you can't force me to tell you anything," she pointed out.

  Goubu sighed. "If Madame would only drink!" he said plaintively. "It is to all of our benefits. We will return her tomorrow morning, safe and sound."

  Denise leaned her head back against the scaling trunk of the paperbark tree. She was trying to probe Goubu's mind. What she could pick up reassured her. He did not seem to be "shielding". Besides, it was reasonable to think he was sincere in promising to return her unharmed. The death or disappearance of a mine official and his wife would not go unnoticed. As Pierre had said, there would be trouble for it. And finally, she was more than a little curious about the new experience Goubu's infusion might provide.

  "Very well," she said at last. "Untie my hands, Goubu, and I will drink."

  "This is nonsense!" Pierre said furiously. "Denise, you are making a serious mistake."

  "No ... I don't think so. Have confidence in me, Pierre."

  "Madame is right," Goubu commented. "M'sieu will see." He bent toward her, as if to untie her hands, and then hesitated. "Perhaps it would be better to leave Madame bound. I will hold the gourd to her lips. I do not wish to risk the tisane getting spilled."

  "Don't you trust me, Goubu?" Denise asked. "Do you think I would spill the infusion purposely?"

  "One never knows," the Melanesian said practically. "We hunted a long time to find the proper herbs. Here."

  He knelt before Denise and touched the gourd gently to her lips. "Mandoué, would you hold the torch so I can see if Madame is drinking? Thank you." He tilted the gourd.

  The liquid lapped at her lips. "Gently," Goubu advised. "Let it trickle down your throat."

  Denise parted her lips and let the fluid in. It was cool but not cold, and its basic taste was a pungent bitterness. Sugar had been added to counteract the bitter taste, and—whether as flavoring or as a part of the infusion's medicinal content Denise did not know—something lemony and aromatic. Altogether, while it was not a brew she would have drunk for pleasure, its flavor was, as Goubu had said, "not disagreeable".

  She swallowed slowly for two or three minutes. At last Goubu took the electric torch from his wife and shone its light into the gourd. "That is enough for now," he said. "Later, if Madame needs it, she may have more."

  "What happens now?" Denise asked.

  "For a while, nothing. Then Madame will experience a transient dizziness. Then everything will become flat. And finally, Madame should be able to tell us what is wrong in the mine."

  He squatted down beside Denise. "Madame should try to relax," he said. "I know this waiting is tedious. I am sorry it cannot be helped."

  Denise tried to take his advice. She was conscious of how odd the situation was—she and Pierre, bound and helpless, sitting side by side in the warm quiet New Caledonian night, while she waited patiently for a drink of unknown potentialities to take effect. Since she had asked him to have confidence in her, Pierre had not spoken at all. Now and then she could hear him draw a long, quivering sigh. This waiting, she thought, must be harder on him than on her.

  She was getting a little dizzy. The ground on which she was sitting seemed to be tilting a bit. She was getting quite dizzy. The ground, the paperbark tree, the sky—they were all turning around madly, like a Catharine wheel.

  The movement stopped. She was no longer dizzy; it seemed impossible that she had ever been giddy at all, so thoroughly had the brakes been applied to the moving world. But she felt she was no longer bound. She seemed to be standing upright, long-legged and tall. Tall? Her head must be brushing against the topmost branches of the paperbark tree. A little more and she would be breathing in the prickly air around the stars. Two steps would take her off the island and across the Coral Sea.

  Then she got flat. Was this what Goubu had meant? The air had been let out of everything. The world came down with a grinding thud on its four flat tires. The sky rushed down. The trees collapsed. Denise felt like a comic strip character who had been run over by a steam roller. She had been ironed out flat, she was reduced to a single dimension. She could have been pasted up on a wall.

  "The sky," she said plaintively, wondering how her compressed chest could find breath to get out the words. "It's crushing me."

  "Oh, dear," Goubu said solicitously. "I am sorry, Madam. Mandoué, please to help me." He pulled a knife from his belt and sawed hastily at the ropes around Denise's arms and legs. He and his wife began to chafe her limbs hurriedly, rubbing toward her heart. "There, is that better?" he asked after they had been working some little time.

  "Yes. Thank you ... My God!"

  For an instant Denise had had a transcendent vision, a moment like a lightning flash, the illumination of insight and glory vouchsafed to the newly dead. Then it was gone, and she was back in herself.

  Back in herself, but not in quite her old self. For the first time her PES felt integrated with the rest of her personality. From being exasperatingly chancy and unpredictable, it had become a faculty she could use at will and calculate in advance on using. It was as reliable as the small, accurate muscles of her hands.

  She began to talk, rapidly and confidently. "The shapes in the mine are caused by a person who wants us to recover a lost object for him. Very long ago, when he was in the power of his enemies, he managed to hide it. The Earth has changed since then, great ages have passed. Now he knows the location of what he wants, but he has no strength to recover it.

  "He wants us to get it for him. He considers it of the utmost value to himself, and he believes it may be of great value to us."

  "What is the object?" Pierre asked in a flat tone.

  "... Something like a book."

  There was a brief silence. "Bien," said Pierre. "Where is it? If he wants us to get it for him, he must tell us where it is."

  Denise's mouth opened, but no words came out. "I—it's gone," she said. She looked about her bewilderedly. "I thought I had my PES forever. Now it's gone. I can't speak surely any more."

  "That happens, Madame," said Goubu soothingly. "The best way out of it is to get somebody to help you. I am no sorcerer, but, I am willing to try. As M'sieu says, we must know where his lost object is before we can recover it."

  He picked up the half-empty drinking gourd and looked into it. "Yes, I think there is enough," he said. He began to swallow the insipid beverage. "Madame had better finish it up," he said at last.

  He put the gourd into Denise's hand and she finished the tisane down to the sugary dregs.

  They waited. "Let your mind go free, Madame," Goubu said. "I am dizzy—now I am flat like grass—Madame, Madame! Now!"

  Denise was aware that her mind was no longer in isolation. Another mentality nudged hers. She felt a brief impulse of fastidious withdrawal. Then she merged herself with it.

  There hovered unsubstantially beneath her, like a view seen from an airplane, a map drawn in contours of white light. She had never seen—wait, she knew it. It was Mt. Dore, not too far from a spot where she had once been with Pierre.

  The map faded out. But she had seen it, she did not think she would forget. "Did you see it?" she asked Goubu excitedly.

  "Yes, Madame. A spot on Mt. Dore. My wife saw it with us. I think M'sieu Pierre saw it also. Isn't that so, M'sieu Pierre? It was very strong."

  "Yes, I saw it. A map of a certain spot on the mountain, done in lines of blue light. I think I could find it without much trouble. How does he want us to get the book for him?"

  "We will have to blast for it," Denise answered. "It's down—oh, a hundred meters in the rock."

  Pierre cleared his throat. "Who
is it who is asking us to blast for a book—a book that has been lost for ages—in a hundred meters of rock?"

  Then there happened what Denise afterwards considered the strangest of the events of that strange night. Her lips opened, and a voice that was not her own spoke through them.

  "I lived on Earth ... before Earth had her own life. My name ... was Tharg."

  -

  Chapter Ten

  They were not ready to blast for several days. There were supplies to be arranged for, a crew of workers to be selected, the acquiescence of Miron, Pierre's superior, to be obtained. A permit to blast on public property had to be wangled from the Bureau of Mines. All this involved a good deal of running around. Finally, the mere logistics of getting a couple of truckloads of men and equipment up to a rugged, lofty site were considerable.

  There was no trouble getting a crew. The mine had closed down, officially to "make repairs necessitated by unsafe conditions", actually because of the shapes. Pierre had selected a crew of Viets and Tonkinese, thinking they would be less prone to superstitious fear than Melanesian workers, like Goubu. This, as it later turned out, was a mistake.

  "You don't seem very happy about this, Pierre," Denise observed on the morning of the fourth day. She was sitting in the cab of one of the trucks, watching Pierre direct the men in their final preparations for the first shot. "I never saw you so glum."

  "I'm not happy about it," her husband replied grimly. "Do you realize, Denise, that I'm staking my whole professional future on this? If this fails to stop the shapes, I'll be in the position of a sea captain who's lost his ship. Nobody will want to hire an engineer who is so demented he goes around blowing holes in the landscape for no especial reason.

  "The trouble I had with Miron! He kept looking at me and tapping his fingers on the desk. If I'd been able to think of a plausible lie to tell him, I'd have done so, but I couldn't think of a thing. Finally I told him that if the 'operations' I was undertaking on Mt. Dore didn't get rid of the shapes in the mine, I'd pay for the men and equipment out of my own pocket. Seven men, and all the stuff one needs to make a hole three hundred feet deep! It makes me feel cold to think of it.