*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 61055 ***

                       THE VALLEY OF THE MASTERS

                      By CHARLES MINOR BLACKFORD

                 His sin was curiosity--his crime was
                 witchcraft--but Henry's real offense
                 against his strange world was that it
                 was dying--and he wanted it to live!

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
             Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Henry stopped and squatted in the underbrush, well hidden from the
path but close enough to see the coming group. Within a minute they
became visible. There were twenty-five to thirty boys, girls and youths
walking slowly in ragged groups, talking and laughing. The youngest
were ahead, a group just entering their teens, dressed like the rest
in jackets and shorts, with sandals of plast on their feet. The dark,
synthetic cloth made them a uniformed body.

Henry's nose wrinkled in distaste. Again his hideaway would be invaded
and he would have to move on. But where to?

They were opposite him now, a bare twenty feet away. Most of them
looked as alike as brothers and sisters, logically enough; there was
not one who wasn't a cousin in some degree to the others. Plump,
round-faced and dull-eyed, they lived from cradle to grave according
to custom. It was the custom, when they were old enough to feel the
urge, to join a group like this. Together they tramped the valley from
spring to fall, gathering fruit and nuts as they came in season. When a
couple felt like settling down they awaited a vacant Mastership--a plot
of orchard and the house that went with it--and moved in. They took
over the responsibilities of the place and bred or adopted the three
children necessary to hold it. They remained there until they became
Elders. Then they moved into Town, where they worked in the factories,
idled and gossiped until death overtook them.

They were ignorant, superstitious, living out their dull routine as
generations before them had. Only a few questioned it. Almost none made
any active challenge.

The youngsters sighted the tavern and made for it at a dead run,
wanting to claim favorable bunks before the others arrived.

Henry was impatient. Ants were crawling over his foot, but it would
never do for him to be seen, especially in the woods. One didn't go
into them. They were inhabited by goblins, ghosts and fearsome animals.

Finally they were past. He straightened, started to step into the path,
then squatted again quickly. Coming alone, behind the others, was the
girl.

Her slimness and pale hair made her stand out from the rest. His
thoughts had been upon her since that day when his group passed the
house of her father, an avocado Master, down in the lower valley. She
had called to them to wait, had run inside to come back with her two
pouches, one for her personal belongings, the other for food. Living
on a fruit diet as they did, they ate most of their awakened hours.

"I'm Theta!" she called out happily as she joined them. "Mama says I'm
old enough to go with you." She recognized a cousin and ran over to
join her, her hair a spot of brightness among the dark. He wanted her
from that moment, but she was far too young. He would have to wait.

       *       *       *       *       *

Coming towards Theta from the opposite direction was the slap of flat
feet.

In a moment Henry recognized Ole. He was considerably older than the
others; his only object in life was enjoying all the young girls who
joined the group. He was a bulky dullard and a bully, his eyes small
and mean.

It was evident that he was looking for the girl. A pleased expression
spread over his face when he saw her. She stopped abruptly, looking
about for a way to flee, but the path was enclosed by woods and Ole was
on her.

"Leave me alone!" she cried in anger as his hand closed about her
wrist. Henry could see disgust for him in her eyes. Why didn't she let
him have what he wanted and be done with him? That was the way most of
the girls responded.

"Won't have anything to do with me, eh?" gloated Ole. "Think you are
too good for us! I been watching you, asking about you. None of the
boys have had you ... but you won't get by me!"

Henry felt a surge of sympathy for her, fed by his dislike for the
other. He slipped into the path. He was almost up to them before he was
seen. Ole swung about, still holding the girl. Henry stopped six feet
off.

"Why don't you let her alone if she doesn't want you?" he asked with
deceiving mildness, apparently relaxed.

There was startled fright in Ole's eyes. Henry had appeared so
suddenly, from nowhere. Worse, he was proscribed. He was accused of
learning witchery.

Henry was taller than Ole, but thin and almost weak looking. This would
be something to boast about: capturing the witch singlehanded, bringing
him in for punishment!

"Make me let her alone, then!" he challenged.

It was usual to boast and strut before fighting. Henry took the
advantage of immediate attack. He sprang at the other, catching him
before he unhanded the girl, with a right to the jaw, a left to the
belly.

Theta ran about fifty feet down the path, then turned to watch. Ole,
head down, was closing in to grip his opponent, but Henry stepped to
one side, coming up with a blow to Ole's right eye. Ole raised his
guard and Henry sank both fists into the other's stomach.

Ole doubled up.

There was no fight in him. He plunged past Henry, down the path
towards the tavern. Henry faced the girl. She came towards him without
hesitation.

"Thank you," she said. "I shouldn't have left the others. I didn't
think he had noticed."

She walked slowly towards the tavern, Henry beside her. The past
year had made her taller, filled her out. Yet the sweetness of her
expression was the same, and the vitality in her face and eyes.

"He's been after you then?"

She nodded. "Him and a couple of others."

It was just a turn in the path to sight of the tavern. Henry halted.

"You seem to forget I'm proscribed," he reminded her.

"I don't care! I like you--always have." Her voice became tragic, "Why
did you go into that awful learning house?"

"I got tired of wondering--wondering what kept the food in the bins
fresh, how it got from the hoppers in the fields to the bins. What made
the light and heat. Where the water came from."

"But the Old Ones did it all by magic!"

"What kind of magic?" His face had a slightly mocking expression. "If
that was so why are things beginning to break down? Magic should go on
forever."

       *       *       *       *       *

From the direction of the tavern came sounds of shouting. He smiled at
her. "You'd better go on before they think I've turned you into a bat."

"Henry--" she began, but she had lingered too long. The whole group
rounded the turn, trotting, their faces twisted in superstitious fury.
They raised their arms when they sighted the two. Each hand had a stone
in it.

"She's one of them too!" screamed fat, malicious Hecla, seeing a chance
to vent her envy. "They're planning something! Throw! Throw!"

Her voice was a hysterical shriek. Henry saw the stones in the air.
Grasping the girl's wrist he drew her into the brush beside the path.

He stopped his flight under an ancient tree and let go her wrist.

"See," he said, "even to speak to me is dangerous."

She tossed her head and brushed the hair from her brow, her eyes
scornful. "I don't care. I'm sick of them."

"You can go back. Give them some fancy tale about my hexing you, but
say that you crossed two sticks or something and got away."

She looked him squarely in the face, her own composed and determined.
"I'd rather stay with you."

He dropped to a jutting rock and scraped at the dead leaves with the
heel of his sandal.

"It's not nice," he began, "the life I live. Hiding in the woods by
day, sneaking into deserted houses or taverns at night for food and
warmth. I've been doing it all summer now, and that's bad enough. In a
month the Masters of these upper levels will be closing their houses
and the taverns, moving to town for the winter. Everything on the lower
levels will be taken up. They expect me to be starved into surrender."

Theta dropped to her knees beside him.

"I'd rather be with you. I've wanted to be with you ever since I first
saw you. But you never seemed to notice me."

"I noticed you." He placed a hand over hers. "But you were so young
looking, so sweet. I was waiting for you to grow up a little more.
Then, when I found an open Mastership, I was going to ask you to share
it with me."

Theta felt a tingling happiness. Her face flushed, her eyes brightened.

"Henry!" she cried. "I've always wanted you! That's why I never...."

He put an arm about her and pulled her close. They sat that way for
minutes.

"I'll give you a Mastership!" he cried out. "I'll give you the whole
valley!" He pushed her shoulders around until she was facing him. "What
is your first wish, Mistress of the Valley?"

"Something to eat," she said promptly.

Henry made a rueful face. "My dear, that is something you will have to
become used to: being hungry. But fortunately I know of a ruined and
deserted house where the bins are still operating."

The forest they were in filled a steep-sided ravine. He followed it
for some distance, then started abruptly up the left-hand slope to a
low-crowned crest planted with apple trees. A hundred yards away was
the house.

One corner of it was crushed by a fallen tree. The low sun made shafts
of light through the trees as Henry approached it cautiously, Theta
behind him. He entered through the broken wall into what was once a
bedroom, then through a door into the remainder of the house.

It was a typical living room they entered, with the regular ration of
furnishings. The visiphone and visiscreen were set into the inner wall;
a calendar clock was over the front door, its dial marked with symbols
for planting, pruning, cutting and picking. The hand was approaching
the latter symbol, Henry went through into the kitchen, leaving her to
watch through the window. He returned with a basket of mixed fruit.

She reached for an avocado, plucking her knife from its sheath with the
other hand.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Henry cried. "You are a sinner now, remember?" He
pushed the basket towards her. "Fill your pouch first, eat later."

They ate, keeping an eye on the path towards the house until dark. No
one moved at night except on extreme emergency, and then only with
lanterns and noise. Without lights on other than the normal glow of the
walls they retired to one of the undamaged bedrooms.

"See?" she said, with a rippling, contented laugh. "I waited for you."


II

It was still dark when they filled their pouches to capacity and
slipped from the house.

"What will we do now?" Theta asked.

Henry looked down. "I don't know. I had something planned, but...."

"What was it?"

"I was going to climb up the mountain, past the top defrost towers and
the force fence, to the top of the ridge."

She stared at him, her eyes round. "Why, that's the edge of the world!
You might fall off!"

"Not if I'm careful."

Only a few in the valley could boast of going beyond the top row of
defrosters, fewer yet of even going within looking distance of the
force fence. Beyond it, tradition said, lived great beasts that could
eat a man with one bite. While the ridges that bounded the valley on
three sides, to the east, west and north, were the edges of the world,
from which one dropped off into bottomless space.

To the south, where forest enclosed the mouth of the valley, tradition
was vague, but the edge must be off there somewhere.

It had taken Henry all summer to build up his determination. But now,
up was the only direction it was safe to go.

"If you're not afraid, I'm not either," Theta said. "Let's go."

Carrying the basket with its remaining supply of fruit between them,
they started up the slope. It was only a short distance to the top
defrosters. These only went into action at blossom time for the apples
and other highland fruits.

From there to the force fence was a steep climb through rocks and
brush. Their pace grew slower as they approached the fence. Their eyes
scanned the rocks and scant brush for signs of the great beasts, but
they saw none. Higher yet, about a quarter of a mile, was the top of
the ridge. The edge of the earth.

Theta pressed against him. "I'm scared," she murmured.

Henry's face became set. "We said we were going," he said curtly. "You
can stay if you wish." He selected rocks for both hands.

The force fence only gave them a strong tingling sensation. The plast
sandals insulated them somewhat. The slope became steeper, but there
was no indication of any great beasts. Too excited to stop and rest,
although they were breathing heavily, they pressed onward.

Would it be night down there, over the edge of the world? Stars
shining? Would it be daylight and clouds?

The top of the ridge was a hundred feet away ... ten. Henry flung
himself on the ground so if he became dizzy he would not lose his
balance and fall. Theta did the same. Side by side, they crept the
remaining distance.

What they saw made them stare in open-mouthed amazement.

       *       *       *       *       *

Before them was another ridge running out from the northern range. It
was pretty much like the one they were on.

Between it and them was another valley. Defrost towers rose from among
the trees. Over the top of the opposite ridge, they could see still
another. The northern mountains were lost in the blue distance.

The shock to both was unnerving. Steeled to look out into Limbo, they
found a valley much like their own.

Together they turned and looked back into what could be seen of their
own valley.

Even in shape the two were roughly similar. They could see the tall,
slim defrost towers, an occasional house and the geometrical designs
of the groves and orchards with their orderly rows of trees. There was
Town at the lower end of the valley. And there, at the upper end, was
something they never knew existed; a large, ivy-clad building that
stretched from cliffside to cliffside. And yet above that was a still,
blue lake.

Henry looked ahead again.

There _was_ a difference in the other valley. There were no orderly
rows of fruit trees, only thick forest like that which grew only in
their ravines or beyond the foot of the valley. The defrost towers
looked down on multicolored autumn foliage, even in the bottom of the
valley where everything should be green.

Why weren't there fruit trees for the defrosters to protect? What kind
of a crop did this valley grow? Henry scrambled to his feet.

Theta looked up at him. "What...?"

"I'm going down there."

"What for?"

"To see what they grow. What kind of people they are."

"They might...."

He smiled down at her. "I've become an expert at not being seen," he
assured her. "I've had them pass five feet away."

Theta got up. "I'm coming, too."

They reached the force fence, but there was no irritation. The forest
started immediately and it was fairly clear of underbrush. There were
no paths to be seen, no sounds of harvesters, no unfamiliar trees. Even
on the floor of the valley there were no signs of life, although they
had seen and avoided several houses.

Henry stopped suddenly, staring ahead.

"What's the matter?" Theta asked.

Wordlessly Henry pointed to the bole of a dead and rotting tree. Its
straight trunk had branches coming out of it in orderly rings, its top
cut off to make the branches spread at ladder distance above the ground.

It leaned drunkenly against a supporting tree.

"Avocado," he said. "This was once a grove."

The normal fear of the unfamiliar swept over Theta. "I want to get out
of here. It scares me," she quavered.

Henry glanced up at the sun. "Too late to cross over now," he said.
"We'll find a house."

He turned and looked about. There should be one close, on the slope of
the ridge so as not to take up useable land. He sighted one and made
for it. From the outside it looked no different from those in their own
valley.

Beside it was an old apple tree with some emaciated fruit on it. At
least they wouldn't starve. As the house was obviously empty he went
around to the back, got a picking ladder off the rack and plucked
enough fruit to fill their pouches, although it was unflavorable. Not
until then did they venture to the front door and push it open.

       *       *       *       *       *

As far as they could see it was like the houses in their valley, only
it was cold, with a chill dampness. Light gray dust covered everything;
cobwebs festooned the walls. That it had not been lived in for years,
perhaps generations, was evident. Theta clung to his arm, shivering and
afraid. Henry shook her off. He strode to the kitchen and pulled open a
bin. In the bottom was dust, smelling faintly of peaches.

"We'll clean out a bedroom for the night," he said, re-entering the
living room.

In the bedroom the westerly sun poured light through a dust-covered
window, putting the bed somewhat in shadow. It, too, was covered with
dust, turning the everlasting blankets into a color uniform with the
room. Their movements stirred up dust that danced as motes in the
streaming sunlight as if to bar their way across the room. They walked
into it. Their eyes could now see clearly what was beyond.

Theta screamed and sprang back.

Protruding beyond the upper edges of the blankets were two skulls!

They were outside, breathing heavily, before they realized they had
moved. Henry stared at the still open door, at the black hole through
the white wall. It was the first time they had seen the aftermath of
death. For their people, there were places into which bodies were
placed. From them they vanished like all other refuse.

Shaken by the horror of it, they plunged into the forest in panic.

The sun dropped behind the ridge; the air chilled. Bones or no bones
they had to find shelter for the night. Fire, naked flame, they never
had seen or knew existed. Heat came from the walls of houses, with warm
clothing and blankets.

Henry's lips firmed. Dead ones or no dead ones, they had to find
something to keep them warm during the night.

Another house appeared. With fast beating hearts they entered. It was
now warmer inside, but still chilly. They would still need coverings.

"Stay here," Henry said.

He strode into the nearest bedroom. Without stopping to look around, he
stepped to the bed. Closing his eyes, he snatched off the bedding and
fled into the livingroom.

Together, crouched in a corner, the bedding around them, they spent the
night.

Sleep did not come immediately. Henry stared into the darkness,
reviewing the day, putting together what he had discovered.

"It all fits," he said aloud.

"What does?" Theta asked.

"The forest, the dead trees, dead people. Something happened to
everything, perhaps all at once. To the defrosters, the heaters, the
bins. It must have been in winter. They crept into bed to keep warm,
then starved to death. All of them."

"No, no!" Theta cried.

"But it did. And it's beginning to happen to us. Each year something
stops working. The time may come when nothing works."

"We can't do anything...."

"Yes, we can."

"What?"

"Find out why--and try to stop it!"


III

At dawn, stiff and shivering, they stumbled outside and by unspoken
consent started directly up the slope.

By full daylight they found themselves in a chestnut grove. They
stopped to fill their pouches. The last mile was made in the hot warmth
of the sun. At the top of the ridge they stopped to rest.

As they did, they feasted their eyes on the orderly groves below them.
But Henry's eyes were seeking out the squares of brown among the green
of the lower valley. He counted twenty. Far more than he realized. The
defrosters had gone dead at intervals, years apart.

His eyes crept up the valley to the structure at its head, with the
captive lake behind it. It must be the House of the Old Ones the old
stories told about but no one had ever seen. From it they had worked
the magic that made the valley what it was. There, they said, they
could be seen and heard to speak.

If he could get to see the Old Ones, ask them questions, perhaps they
would tell him what should be done.

"Where are we going now?" Theta asked.

"To the House of the Old Ones. Up there," he said, pointing. "Perhaps
they can tell us something."

She clutched his arm. "You can't!" she cried. "They'll ... they'll...."

"They'll what?"

"I don't know! Something awful!"

"That's what they said about the learning house, but there was nothing
in it but dust. I found, from the size of the chairs, that you had to
start learning almost from the time you walked. I didn't even know how
to start!"

"Then you didn't learn anything?"

"Nothing."

He came to his feet. "You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I go where you go," she said with stubborn determination.

They had to dip down below the force fence to find water, then keep
to the harvested portions where the Masters had gone to Town for the
winter. They were lucky in finding houses where the keys had been lost,
and thus had been left unlocked.

It was noon the next day when they forced themselves through the
brush to find themselves within feet of their destination. With Henry
leading they skirted it, looking for an entrance. Close to the center
they found a deep indentation with a pair of doors at its inner end.
Cautiously, over the accumulated leaves and rubble, they moved toward
them, wondering how to get inside.

The moment Henry came within three feet of them they flew open, inwards.

Theta screamed and sprang back. Henry stopped, startled.

"It's nothing to be scared of," he reassured her. "They say that the
doors of Hall in Town used to open this way until someone broke a glass
button on the wall. Come on."

There was another pair of glass doors that opened the same way as they
approached. They led to a large reception room with a desk and chair
opposite the door, chairs in a row along the wall. The floor was red
tile, with a white line, about six inches wide, circling around to a
door to the left.

Behind the desk was another door.

       *       *       *       *       *

"Sightseers," said a voice from out of nowhere that made Theta scream,
"will follow the white line through the door to the left. Those with
business in the offices will consult the receptionist. Please proceed."

Almost in a state of trance, Henry led the way along the white line.
The door opened and admitted them, then a second door.

Here everything was spotless, dustless, though no one had been there
for years.

"You are now in the generating room," the voice began again. "The
humidity is zero. All dirt and dust has been removed. What you bring in
with you will be gone in five minutes."

They were on a balcony, looking down into a large space. On the
floor below them seemed to be a huge cylinder, suspended between two
metal-covered blocks. Only by the glimmering reflections from its
polished surface could one tell that it was revolving.

"Before you is the main generator," the voice began again. "If you
look closely you will note that the armature shaft does not touch its
supporting bearings. It is held in suspension by polarized barumal
obtained from Mars, so there is no friction and no wear. It is powered
by water reduced to hydrogen and oxygen. The excess gases are used
in the hoppers and storage bins to force out the air and preserve
the foods on their way to their destinations. Some gas is piped to
the disposal plants, in which all organic matter is converted into
fertilizer."

Henry felt let down, cheated. It was just an empty building containing
soundless machinery and a recorded lecture. No Old Ones. Nothing he
wanted.

"Now behind you," the voice began again, "you can see into the
Control Room. From there every machine, store or house can have its
power cut on or off. And if anything goes wrong with its circuit a
button on the board flashes red until it is repaired. The glowing red
button close to the window is the master switch that will shut off
everything in case of an emergency, such as an earthquake."

Theta pressed her nose to the glass window. "Just think," she breathed,
"push that and everything stops!"

Perhaps that's what happened in the other valley, thought Henry.
Someone pushed the red button ... then couldn't get things going again.

"Now follow the line to the next room and be seated. There you will
be shown how the complex of the valley was constructed and how it
operates."

On entering the hall they found several rows of seats facing a large
screen. Soft music began as they entered. The hall darkened and the
screen lit up, showing the valley as it was before the work began.
Forest mainly, a few farms scattered along the narrow bottoms.

What startled Henry was that they were _above_ the valley, looking down
as they seemed to drift through the air. So the old tales were right!
The Old Ones could fly through the air! Here was proof of it.

He sat on the edge of his seat, breathing hard, waiting to see the Old
Ones, giant of stature, who could tear a tree out of the ground or
shovel away a mountain.

But the first humans he saw were men like himself and those in the
valley. Men who pointed at places while others squinted in that
direction through strange instruments. He wished he could follow the
talk, but the men pronounced words differently and used many he had
never heard. He had to use his eyes instead of his ears.

       *       *       *       *       *

They started to work right where he was--he recognized the outlines of
the ridges about them--but it was done by no giant extending his hand
and showering magic. Big machines dug away the ground. Other things
with no visible means of locomotion brought building materials up a
broad road where there was not even a path now. A little man, graying
and wrinkled, answered questions of their invisible guide, and, as he
did, he gave directions to others. Was he one of the Old Ones, not as
large as himself, no older than his father?

Behind him on the screen the building Henry was in was going up. And
men were making it, ordinary men, not magic.

Were the Old Ones just ordinary men, their magic not strange words and
motions but machines they manipulated with their hands and feet? They
were not gods, just men who had begun to learn sitting in the little
chairs in the learning house.

He watched them dig the trenches from the groves-to-be to the hidden
storage bins, put in the pipes lined with gravity-repellent barumal,
lay the snakelike cables that he had seen occasionally where erosion
had exposed them. He saw the building of Town, the Master's houses and
the final planting of the groves. The record ended.

Henry remained staring at the blank screen until Theta nudged him and
brought him back to the present.

The white line led on, past large offices on one side, on the other
windows looking down into a vast storeroom that contained parts for
repairing everything in the valley. The Old Ones knew that, some day,
things would start breaking down and had prepared for it. They had not
prepared for life dropping into routine, interest in progress being
lost.

What need was there to spend years in school when everything was
already done for you?

The picture had shown some buildings close to the cliffs on one side
that looked like the apartment houses in Town. They broke through the
brush and found one.

Other than for dust it was in good condition. The food bins were
filled, but the contents had dried to the hardness of stone. As soon as
they were emptied they began to refill; but it was two days of constant
emptying before eatable fruit began to appear.

By the end of a week they had the rooms they needed cleaned and some of
the brush about the place cut clear.

It left Henry free to roam the plant. He sat again and again through
the record of construction, understanding a little more each time. He
noted, for instance, where what was now forest at the entrance to the
valley was once farmland, laid out in squarish, varicolored fields. He
found his way into the control room, discovered how to trace the lines
from the board to their end on the large map on the wall across from
the board.

One day, while it was snowing heavily above the permanent defrosters,
he heard a buzzer sound and saw a light turn from green to red. He
traced it down. It was the damaged house where they had first taken
refuge.

There was plenty of time to ponder. Each time it ended in the same
question and the same conclusion. Something had to be begun before it
was too late. The valley had to be stirred out of its antipathy.

But how?

One morning, before dawn, he sat up in bed. Theta asked what was wrong.

"I'm going to the meeting in Town at Peach Blossom Time," he announced.
"Something has to be done."

Theta clutched his arm. "You can't! They'll kill you!"

"I have to! Do you want our children, or our children's children, to
die like those people on the other side of the ridge?"

"No, but...."

"I have to go--have to make them listen."


IV

The Peach Blossom Time Meeting was always the best in the year. Those
not already in Town were on the nearby bottom groves. After it, the
Masters would return to the upper orchards, and the youth work parties
would start their rounds. During the three-day meeting there would be
dances and parties, an exchange of news while the assembled Elders
would judge disputes, pass on the qualifications of Masters, deposing
the lazy and unfit, selecting couples to take their places. It was the
one time of the year when Henry could get the ear of everyone.

They traveled down unseen, slipping into unlocked houses for food and
the night. They entered Town at the beginning of the first meeting.
They made it unrecognized to the Hall.

It was not crowded. The day was bland; most preferred to stay outside
and watch the proceedings on the visiscreen. Henry and Theta slipped
into a section to one side and awaited the clearance of the immediate
business of the Elders.

There was none, of importance. Within an hour all that was pending was
cleared up. The Senior Elder, emaciated and with shaking hands, faced
the audience.

"Any further business?" he quavered.

Henry stood up. "Yes," he called out. "Something very important."

Theta fully intended to follow him, but she found she could not move.
It was as if she was tied to the chair. The more practical of the two,
she knew that the men he was facing would refuse to face the facts. All
he was doing was placing himself in their hands. And that meant death!

The elders peered in his direction as he gained the aisle. Ole twisted
about in his seat and was the first one to recognize him. For a moment
he stared open-mouthed.

"It's Henry Callis!" he cried out. "He's proscribed for learning
witchery! Grab him!"

Henry stopped before him. Ole's words became a gurgle and dried up.

"If I'm a witch," Henry said loudly, "I'm a good person to keep away
from. Whether I am or not, I have something important to tell you. And
all of you had better listen!"

He started again for the platform, those along the aisle shrinking back
as he passed. The Elders, from fat to withered, with the same uneasy
expressions on their faces, watched silently as he climbed to the stage
and faced them. He could feel their chill hostility. He knew now that
he had done wrong but it was too late to undo it. He stopped a short
distance from their table, half turned so the audience could hear him.

       *       *       *       *       *

"I have been living in the houses of the Old Ones at the head of the
valley, beyond the defrosters and the forest above them. And I also
have been up to the top of the East Range, expecting to look over the
edge of the world. But what I saw was another valley just like this
one. It had a force fence, defrosters, hoppers, houses. Everything this
valley has, except for one thing: living inhabitants. There were people
in the houses. Dead people. Reduced to bones, the bones of people who
had died from hunger and cold when everything in their valley suddenly
ceased to work.

"That is what sent me to the House of the Old Ones, to see if I could
find out what had happened. I found out there that the Old Ones were
not giants who did things with magic, but people like ourselves who
used machinery to make things. Just as we make clothing with machinery
here in Town. They had machines that could fly through the air. They
could go the length of the valley in an hour in a road machine. With
machines they built these buildings, dug the trenches for the hoppers,
did everything. They were just men. Men who had studied in the learning
houses from the time they were tiny children. And I found out more...."

He stopped to take a quick look about the still hall. He felt the
hostility.

"And I found out more," he repeated. "I found that, in this valley,
twenty banks of defrosters have already failed. Eleven houses cannot
be used, plus two taverns and one factory here in town. It shows that
our own system is breaking down. Some day--perhaps tomorrow, perhaps
not until the time of our grandchildren--everything will stop as it
did in the next valley. If we want to keep living, we must start to
learn how to keep these machines running. At the House of the Old Ones
there is a vast store of parts and visigraph records showing how it
should be done. I ask you all to come up and see the record they have
there of building the things in the valley! See the machine that keeps
everything running. Then let me have a band of youths to start studying
the records until we find out how to keep things running."

There was silence after he finished. The Elders eyed him, uneasy,
suspicious.

From the seats of the hall came Ole's voice.

"Don't believe him!" he shouted. "He wants to get us up there so he can
bewitch us--like he did Theta! Take him out and stone him!"

Someone on the other side of the hall echoed the cry. In a moment it
seemed that everyone was roaring it, rising in their seats, shaking
fists. The Senior Elder motioned to the Hallmaster. He stepped forward
with two husky assistants who grabbed Henry.

"Put him in the strong room," quavered the Senior Elder. "Keep him
there until the day for punishment."

Roughly Henry was pushed around, led out a rear door to the stage. The
day of punishment! Three nights and two days to live!

       *       *       *       *       *

He awoke the morning of the third night feeling cold. He opened his
eyes to find himself in total darkness.

For a moment he thought himself free, hiding out in some deserted
building, that all that had happened lately was a dream. But from
outside he heard a panicky voice crying that the lights in his
apartment were out and it was getting cold.

It had happened! Far sooner than he expected, it had happened!

But what would Theta do? She had gotten away, he was sure, as no one
mentioned her. Theta, that was it! She had gone to the plant, pushed
the button, condemning herself and all the others to death! But that
was not like Theta. She was too clever....

That was it! Why hadn't he thought of it! It was a message, a
challenge, a tool which he could use to free himself--get them to help
him!

More relaxed, he lay back. Dawn was already showing up over the ridge.
More people would be getting up, more people rushing out into the
streets in panic. They would remember him, come to his cell imploring
him to do something. He would demand what he wanted. They could
comply--or face disaster.

What should he demand?

Someone came down the street shouting for the Senior Elder. The volume
of excited voices increased with each minute: voices demanding to know
why there was no light, no heat, no water. Asking each other if they
had them. Hysteria mounting each minute.

Perhaps it would be a time before they thought of him, but they would
be before him before the day was over.

"It's that witch in the strong room!" bellowed Ole's voice outside. "He
did it by magic! Kill him before he strikes us all dead!"

The cry was taken up, "The witch, kill the witch! He did it! He is
right in there, kill him!"

Cold terror seized Henry.

Theta's scheme was backfiring! There would be no reasoning with a
superstitious, hysterical mob! Well, at least it hurried things up by a
few hours. More composed, he came to his feet as they burst through the
back door of the Hall and stampeded towards the door to the cell.

He even smiled slightly. If they thought him a witch....

The key was in the lock. They had no difficulty getting in. He stood in
the center of the room, the slight smile still on his lips.

He raised his forearm to a horizontal position, pointed his index
finger in their direction.

"Who wants to die first?" he cried above the noise they made.

The onrush into the cell stopped abruptly, those in front pushing back
against those behind them. They followed his finger with fascinated
eyes as he fanned it across the group of them. He stopped, his finger
pointing to a fat, applecheeked grovemaster. The man shrieked, turned
about and began fighting his way back into the corridor.

One man was tripped up and fell. There was a wild shriek of terror. Men
shouted that he was killing the leaders by magic. To Henry it seemed
only an instant before the passageway was back in its usual silence. He
stepped out of his cell. He could see a mass of people about the street
door surrounding the panicked men. The passage in the other direction
seemed empty.

He turned that way, passed onto the rear of the stage, felt his way
across it in the darkness to the steps and down into the aisle. Calmly
and without haste he passed through the front doors into the next
street and walked, unrecognized in the half light and excitement, out
of town.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was dark when he arrived in the upper valley.

Theta was sitting at a table. She sprang up and rushed into his arms
with a glad cry.

"It worked! They let you go?"

He looked about. "You turned the power back on?"

"No. The plant and these buildings have a separate power source of
their own. I wasn't going to touch it until I knew you were safe."

He drew an apple from a bin and munched it. "We'd better turn things on
again before the fruit spoils. Come on...."

The button, Henry knew, turned on as well as off. Henry pressed down
the button, stepped back to watch the large battery of lights flash
on, but nothing happened. Had Theta somehow wrecked--ah! The red
buttons all began to glow again. Then, a minute later, a bank of lights
switched to green, then another and another. But Henry noted that an
occasional light did not change.

Within the hour the board was lighted up completely.

Henry could barely stumble back to his quarters as the reaction set in
compounded with disappointment. He flung himself on his bed.

"I have failed," he kept muttering. "I have failed in everything. They
won't listen. No one will!"

Theta wisely kept silent and covered him up.

On the second day they heard the sound of a group breaking their way
through the forest. They slipped into the brush, ready to retire to a
hiding place they had ready. But the dozen people who appeared in the
clearing did not have the look of a vengeful mob. Several were almost
elderly, some were boys, two were young women.

Henry stepped into the open, but not too close to them. "What do you
want?" he demanded.

They looked at each other, waiting for the other to speak first.

"What do you want?" Henry directed his question to an elderly
grovemaster.

"I want to know what's happening," he began. "My hopper has stopped
working, my defrosters were dimming. They blame me...."

A young man, strong, with alert eyes, stepped forward. "You are right
about that other valley," he said. "I have been in it myself. I don't
want that to happen here. I want to learn."

"I do too!" shrilled one of the teenagers. "I sneaked into a learning
house, too, but I couldn't understand."

The others gave their reasons, all varied, but with the same intent:
they wanted to learn. Sometimes how to repair an individual object,
others longed for general knowledge. But they were willing to face the
rest of the valley with him to get it.

Henry took a deep, happy breath. There would be others. Slowly but
surely the group would grow.

"Come in," he said. "Rest and eat. Then we'll start making plans."





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Valley of the Masters, by 
Charles Minor Blackford

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 61055 ***