Part 1

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.