would see more ghosts flitting about on the hillsides. The elongated wraithlike beings were too timid ever to come near us, but ran back and forth on the slopes, trailing long streamers of their fungus- shrouds behind them.
To Traiben I said, "What are these ghosts, do you think? Pilgrims, are they? Who never went any further up the mountain, but became infested with this white fungus and had to remain down here where it lives?"
He shrugged. "That could be. But I suspect otherwise. What I think is that this region never was abandoned by the ancient settlers, despite the things our teachers told us."
"You mean what we're encountering are the descendants of the very people who built these huts long ago?"
"So I believe, yes. This was probably good farming land once. Then the shroud-stuff came and ruined it. But instead of fleeing, these people stayed. There must be a low level of change-fire here, that has worked a transformation on them of a sort, and now the fungus is a part of them. Perhaps it helps to keep them alive. There doesn't seem much to eat in this zone."
With a shudder I said, "And will it become a part of us the same way?"
"Very likely not, or there'd be no Returned Ones. Every Pilgrim who goes up the Wall and comes down again must pass through this district. But they don't bear the infestation." He gave me a somber grin. "Still, I think we would do well to wrap wet cloths over our faces to keep the spores away. And we should make our camp for the night in some happier place."
"Yes," I said. "That seems wise to me too."
We hurried on through this blighted land of ghosts with our heads down and our faces covered.
Ghosts followed us all the way, keeping well back from us. Some of them seemed more bold than the others, dancing up to us and whirling so that their shrouds swept out airily behind them, but we threw rocks at them to prevent them from coming close. After what we had seen and what Traiben had said, we all dreaded the fungus. It was all around us, impossible to avoid. I wondered if I had already taken it into my lungs. Perhaps it was hatching right now in some moist dark cavern of my body, seizing possession of my interior and soon to issue forth from my mouth and my nostrils. The thought sickened me and I went to the side of the road and violently heaved up everything that was in my stomach, praying that I might be heaving up any spores that were within me also.
Kilarion was proven a truth-teller once more before we left the ghost-land; for we even saw a ghost as beautiful as the one he had claimed he had made the Changes with, that time when he came up here with his father when he was a boy.
She appeared on a rocky ledge just above us and stood singing and crooning at us in an eerie, quavering voice. Like all her kind she was slender and very long-limbed, but just a faint coating of fungus covered her breasts and loins, and none was visible around her face. What little she had on her body gave her a sleek, satiny sheen and made her look soft to the touch, altogether appealing. Her eyes were golden and had a slight slant to them, and her features had a strange purity. A beautiful creature indeed, this ghost. She said something to us in soft, furry tones that we could not understand, and beckoned as if inviting us to come up and dance with her.
I saw Kilarion trembling. The muscles of his huge body bunched and heaved and cords stood out along his throat. He looked to her and there was a desperate expression in his eyes.
Perhaps this was the very ghost he had embraced here long ago. No doubt she still had some magic over his soul even now.
I kicked sharply at his leg to get his attention and pointed up ahead when he gave me an angry glance.
"Keep moving, Kilarion," I said.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?"
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life living in this place?"
He muttered something under his breath. But he understood what I was saying, and walked on, eyes averted.
After a time
To Traiben I said, "What are these ghosts, do you think? Pilgrims, are they? Who never went any further up the mountain, but became infested with this white fungus and had to remain down here where it lives?"
He shrugged. "That could be. But I suspect otherwise. What I think is that this region never was abandoned by the ancient settlers, despite the things our teachers told us."
"You mean what we're encountering are the descendants of the very people who built these huts long ago?"
"So I believe, yes. This was probably good farming land once. Then the shroud-stuff came and ruined it. But instead of fleeing, these people stayed. There must be a low level of change-fire here, that has worked a transformation on them of a sort, and now the fungus is a part of them. Perhaps it helps to keep them alive. There doesn't seem much to eat in this zone."
With a shudder I said, "And will it become a part of us the same way?"
"Very likely not, or there'd be no Returned Ones. Every Pilgrim who goes up the Wall and comes down again must pass through this district. But they don't bear the infestation." He gave me a somber grin. "Still, I think we would do well to wrap wet cloths over our faces to keep the spores away. And we should make our camp for the night in some happier place."
"Yes," I said. "That seems wise to me too."
We hurried on through this blighted land of ghosts with our heads down and our faces covered.
Ghosts followed us all the way, keeping well back from us. Some of them seemed more bold than the others, dancing up to us and whirling so that their shrouds swept out airily behind them, but we threw rocks at them to prevent them from coming close. After what we had seen and what Traiben had said, we all dreaded the fungus. It was all around us, impossible to avoid. I wondered if I had already taken it into my lungs. Perhaps it was hatching right now in some moist dark cavern of my body, seizing possession of my interior and soon to issue forth from my mouth and my nostrils. The thought sickened me and I went to the side of the road and violently heaved up everything that was in my stomach, praying that I might be heaving up any spores that were within me also.
Kilarion was proven a truth-teller once more before we left the ghost-land; for we even saw a ghost as beautiful as the one he had claimed he had made the Changes with, that time when he came up here with his father when he was a boy.
She appeared on a rocky ledge just above us and stood singing and crooning at us in an eerie, quavering voice. Like all her kind she was slender and very long-limbed, but just a faint coating of fungus covered her breasts and loins, and none was visible around her face. What little she had on her body gave her a sleek, satiny sheen and made her look soft to the touch, altogether appealing. Her eyes were golden and had a slight slant to them, and her features had a strange purity. A beautiful creature indeed, this ghost. She said something to us in soft, furry tones that we could not understand, and beckoned as if inviting us to come up and dance with her.
I saw Kilarion trembling. The muscles of his huge body bunched and heaved and cords stood out along his throat. He looked to her and there was a desperate expression in his eyes.
Perhaps this was the very ghost he had embraced here long ago. No doubt she still had some magic over his soul even now.
I kicked sharply at his leg to get his attention and pointed up ahead when he gave me an angry glance.
"Keep moving, Kilarion," I said.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?"
"Do you want to spend the rest of your life living in this place?"
He muttered something under his breath. But he understood what I was saying, and walked on, eyes averted.
After a time
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