Mists of Dawn (87 page)

All
questions
of
supernatural
powers
aside,
however,
Mark
was
curious
to
know
more
about
the
silent Tloron.
He
sought
out
Tlaxcan
and
asked
him
where Tloron
was.
Tlaxcan
told
him
he
was
at
work
in
a cave
far
beneath
the
earth,
at
work
in
the
sacred
chamber
of
the
Danequa.
Tlaxcan
did
not
actually
say
the word
“sacred”
of
course—what
he
said
was
that
the cavern
was
strong
with
power,
force,
mana;
that
it was
heavy
with
the
spirits
of
the
earth,
of
the
sub-earth,
and
of
the
sky.
But
his
feelings
toward
the
place were
closely
akin
to
the
concepts
of
sacredness,
and so
it
was
thus
that
Mark
translated
Tlaxcan’s
words to
himself.

Tlaxcan
offered
to
take
Mark
down
to
see
Tloron at
work,
and
Mark
readily
agreed.
They
took
torches and
entered
a
large
cave
that
was
vaguely
familiar to
Mark,
although
he
was
certain
that
he
had
never been
in
it
before
that
he
could
remember.
They
walked along
through
the
dark
tunnels
until
Mark
judged
that they
were
a
good
two
miles
beneath
the
earth,
and still
Mark
was
haunted
by
a
feeling
that
he
had
been through
the
cave
before.
He
seemed
to
remember
as from
a
vast
distance
each
turn
and
twist
that
the
tunnel took.
Where
had
he
seen
it
before?
When?

After
an
hour’s
walk,
they
noticed
a
light
glowing ahead
of
them
in
the
cave.
They
rounded
a
corner and
stopped,
not
saying
a
word,
looking
at
the
scene before
them.

In
this
deep
recess
of
the
limestone
caverns,
far beneath
the
surface
of
the
earth,
the
pitch-black
gloom was
illuminated
by
two
stone
lamps
set
in
the
rock walls.
The
lamps
were
filled
with
animal
fat
and
their wicks
were
soaked
twists
of
moss.
In
the
soft
light
of the
stone
lamps,
the
pale
Tloron
worked
alone,
painting
with
crude
clays
and
berry
dyes
and
charred
sticks upon
the
side
of
the
cave.
He
worked
very
slowly, unsurely,
feeling
his
way.
He
stopped
often
to
survey his
work
with
a
critical
eye.

Mark
stood
very
still,
hardly
breathing.
He
could not
express
the
emotions
that
raged
within
him
at
that moment.
He
felt
much
as
an
eavesdropper
from
the future
might
have
felt
in
looking
over
Shakespeare’s shoulders
when
he
was
writing
the
great
soliloquy
in
Hamlet.
Mark
knew
that
he
was
having
the
unique experience
of
seeing
one
of
the
wonders
of
the
world in
the
moment
of
its
creation.

What
was
the
silent
Tloron
painting?
For
the
most part,
he
was
working
with
animal
figures.
There
was
a wonderful
bison,
muscles
rippling.
There
was
a
mighty stag,
antlers
tossing
proudly.
There
was
a
stately
mammoth,
his
long
trunk
curving
back
along
his
side.
The animals
were
drawn
in
profile,
without
perspective, and
they
were
vivid
with
black,
brown,
red,
yellow, and
white
coloring.
In
the
soft
light
of
the
soapstone lamps,
the
painting
was
startling
in
its
force
and
clarity.