The Descent

What kept  drawing  them  back  was  the  circular  platform  with  its  army  surrounding the  stone  spire.  However  priceless  the  human  artifacts  were,  scattered  through  the fortress,   they   were   mundane  compared   with  the   tower   display.   On   the   second morning,  Ike  found  a  series  of  hidden  nubbins  on  the  tower  itself.  Using  these,  he made a daring, unprotected ascent to the top of the column.

They  watched  him  balance  atop  the  spire.  For  the  longest  time  he  just  stood  there. Then he called down for them to turn off their lights. They  sat  in  the  darkness  for  half an hour, bathed by  the faintly incandescent floor.

When he roped down again, Ike  looked shaken.

'We're  standing  on  their  world,'  he  said.  'This  whole  platform  is  a  giant  map.  The spire was built as a viewing station.'

They  glanced around at their feet, and all they  saw were  wiggling cutmarks  on a  flat, unpainted surface. But through the afternoon, Ike  led them one at a time up  the  ropes and  they  saw  with  their  own  eyes.  By  the  time  he  took  Ali  up  for  her  view,  Ike  had made  the  trip  six  times  and  was  becoming  familiar  with  parts  of  the  map.  Ali  found the  top  flat  and  small,  just  three  feet  square.  Apparently  no  one  but  Ike  had  felt comfortable standing on  top,  so  he  had  rigged  a  pair  of  loops  for  people  to  sit  in  while hanging alongside. Ali hung beside Ike,  sixty  feet  up, while her night vision adapted.

'It's like a giant sand mandala, but without the sand,' Ike  said. 'It's  weird  how  I  keep running  across  pieces  of  mandalas  down  here.  I'm  talking  about  places  like  sub-Iran or under Gibraltar. I thought Haddie must have  kidnapped  a  bunch  of  monks  and  put them to work decorating. But now I see.'

And so did she. In a giant  circle  all  around  her,  the  platform  beneath  them  began  to radiate ghostly colors.

'It's  some  kind  of  pigment  worked  into  the  stone,'  said  Ike.  'Maybe  it  was  visible  at ground  level  at  one  time.   I   like  the   idea  of  an  invisible  map,  though.  Probably commoners  like  us  would  never  have  had  access  to  this  knowledge.  Only  the  elite would have  been permitted  to come up here and get the whole picture.'

The  longer  she  waited,  the  more  her  vision  adjusted.  Details  clarified.  The  incisions flowing with mercury  became tiny rivers  veining across the surface. Lines of turquoise and red and green intertwined and branched in wild patterns:  tunnels.

'I think that big stain mark  is our sea,' said Ike.

The  black shape  lay  quite  close  to  the  tower  base.  Paths  threaded  in  from  far-flung regions.  If  this  was  reality,  then  there  were  whole  worlds  down  here.  Whether  they had  once  been  known  as  provinces  or  nations  or  frontiers,  the  gaping  cavities  stood like air sacs within a great  round lung.

'What's happening?' Ali gasped. 'It's coming alive.'

'Your eyes  are still catching up,' Ike  said. 'Just wait. It's  three-dimensional.'

The  flatness  suddenly  swelled  with  contours  and  depth.  The  color  lines  no  longer overlapped but had levels all their own, dipping and rising among other lines.

'Oh,' Ali murmured, 'I feel like I'm falling.'

'I  know.  It  opens  and  opens  and  opens.  It's  all  in  the  art.  Somehow,  Himalayan cultures  must  have  plagiarized  it  a  long  time  ago.  Now  the  Buddhists  use  it  just  to draw  blueprints  for  Dharma  palaces.  Meditate  long  enough,  and  the  geometries  turn into an optical illusion of  a  building.  But  here  you  get  the  original  intent.  A  map  of  the whole inner earth.'

Even  the  black  blot  of  the  sea  had  dimensions.  Ali  could  see  its  flat  surface  and, underneath  it,  the  jagged  contours  of  its  floor.  The  river  lines  looked  suspended  in midspace.

'I'm not sure how to read this  thing.  There's  no  north-south,  no  scale,'  said  Ike.  'But there's  a definite logic here. Look at the  coastline  of  our  sea.  You  can  pretty  much  see how we came.'

It  was  different  from  the   way   she   had  been   drawing  her   own  maps.  Lacking compass bearings, the maps she  continued  to  make  were  projections  of  her  westward desire,  essentially  a  straight  line  with  bends.  These  lines  were  more  languorous  and full. Now she could see how tightly she had been disciplining her fear of this space. The subterranean  world was practically infinite, more like the sky  than the earth.

The  sea  was  shaped  like  an  elongated  pear.  Ali  tried  in  vain  to  distinguish  any features  along  the  right-hand  route  Walker  had  taken.  Other  than  extrapolating  that rivers  intersected  his route, she couldn't read its hazards.