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Snurl had assigned two brothers to him, short round faced Hill men whose slanting eyes crowded close to their flat noses. Seen from the side, each gave the impression that as a small boy he'd run his face into a stone wall."We go this way." Ch'Wing, the older brother, pointed to a cleft in the hills."Shortest way," his brother Ch'Dan added. "We go to first camp site, then cut across hills to others."They rode along in silence, spread out far enough not to hamper each other, yet close enough that they couldn't be separated by a sudden attack. Once or twice they had the feeling of being watched, but nothing happened. If anybody was around, they weren't about to take on three armed men with little or no chance for loot.The first camp site seemed all right at first glance, but a closer look showed green scummed pools of water, a nauseous odor proclaiming its unfitness. With an impatient shake of his head, Ch'Wing led them off up a side canyon. In the heat and silence, the clatter of. "I didn't volunteer to be in here!" she cried out to the watching faces. "No, no, no, I don't want to be in here! Let me out!" she pleaded with the crowd, but she knew that no one could hear her. Suzy knew that no one could hear her because for many years she had stood in that crowd and watched the chosen one pound on these transparent walls and beg and plead to be released from their captivity. You could see the terror on their faces. You could see the tears flow down from their eyes. You could see the hopelessness begin to overwhelm them. Sometimes you could even see them piss themselves in fear. But you could never hear them. For the entire three or four or five days of the festival, you could not hear them.The length of the festival depended upon the actions of the offering. The festival continued until the offering finally mounted the saddle. No one knew for sure how an offering was chosen. Nor did anyone know how the offering came to be placed in the cube. There did not.
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