There was no rumble of ventilator fans, just the constant whistle of the wind from above. Viki concentrated on the view straight above her head. She could see a grilled window at the top, maybe fifty feet up. Daylight shone through, splashing this way and that down the metal walls of the shaft. Here at the bottom they were in twilight, but it was more than bright enough to see the sleep mats, the chemical toilet, the metal floor. Their prison got steadily warmer as the day progressed. Gokna was right. They'd done enough exploring back home to know how real utility cores looked. But what else could this be? "Look at all the patches." She waved at the disks that were sloppily welded here and there on the walls. "Maybe this place was abandoned—no, maybe it's still under construction!"
"Yeah," said Jirlib. "All this work is fresh. They just tack-welded covers on the access holes, maybe an hour's work." Gokna nodded, not even trying to get the last word. So much had changed since this morning. Jirlib was no longer a distant, angry umpire to their disputes. He was under more pressure than ever before, and she knew how bitterly guilty he must feel. Along with Brent, he was the eldest—and he'd let this happen. But the pain didn't show directly; Jirlib was more patient than ever before.
And when he spoke, his sisters listened. Even if you didn't count that he was just about an adult, he was by far the smartest of all of them.
"In fact, I think I know exactly where we are." He was interrupted by the babies, stirring in their perches on his back. Jirlib's fur was just not deep enough to properly comfort, and he was already beginning to stink. Alequere and Birbop alternated between caterwauling demands for their parents and nerve-racking silence, when they pinched tight onto poor Jirlib's back. It looked like they were returning to noise mode. Viki reached out, coaxing Alequere into her arms.
"Where is that?" asked Gokna, but with no trace of argument in her voice.
"See the attercop webs?" said Jirlib, pointing upward. They were fresh, tiny patches of silk that floated in the breeze by the grill. "Each type has its own pattern. The ones up there are local to the Princeton area, but they nest in the highest places. The top of Hill House is just barely high enough for them. So—I figure we're still in town, and we're so high up we must be visible for miles. We're either in the hill district or in that new skyscraper at City Center."
Alequere started crying again. Viki rocked her gently back and forth. It was the sort of thing that always cheered up Little Hrunk, but...A miracle! Alequere's wailing quieted. Maybe she was just so beaten down that she couldn't make healthy noise. But no, after a few seconds the baby waved a weak little smile at her and twisted around so that she could see everything. She was a good little cobblie! Viki rocked the baby a few more seconds before she spoke. "Okay. Maybe they just drove us around in circles—but City Center? We've heard a few aircraft, but where are the street noises?"
"They're all around." It was almost the first thing Brent had said since the kidnapping. Slow and dull, that was Brent. And he was the only one of all of them who had guessed what was happening this morning. He was the one who dropped away from the others and lurked in the dark. Brent was grown-up-sized—riding that exhibit down on top of the enemy could have crippled him. When they were dragged out through the museum's freight entrance, Brent had been limp and silent. He hadn't said anything during the drive that followed, just waved when Jirlib and Gokna asked him if he was okay.
In fact, it looked like he had cracked one foreleg and injured at least one other, but he wouldn't let them look at the damage. Viki understood. Brent would feel just as ashamed as Jirlib—and even more useless. He had withdrawn into a sullen pile, and then—after the first hour in their present captivity—had begun to limp around and around, tapping and ticking at the metal. Every so often he would plunk himself down flat, like he was pretending to be dead—or was totally despairing. That was his posture just now.
"Can't you hear them?" he said again. "Belly-listen."
Viki hadn't played that game in years. But she and the others imitated him, sprawling absolutely flat, with no grasping arch at all. It wasn't very comfortable, and you couldn't hold on to anything while you did it. Alequere hopped out of her arms. Birbop joined his sister. The two ticked from one of the older children to another, prodding at them. After a moment, the two started giggling.
