"Charles L. Harness-The Araqnid Window" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

***


* * *
5. The Peculiar Holes
***


The next morning, while Thorin was scraping (very very carefully) on the soil in his allotted grid, he
uncovered a small hole, which seemed to slant tortuously down into the ground. It was about two
centimeters in diameter. An animal burrow? He thought not. Rather too small for that, unless of course it
was a very small animal indeed. More likely, an insect burrow. Well, he would soon know. He continued
to scrape, removing a plane of soil about one centimeter thick at a time, in the approved fashion. And
then he uncovered another hole. And then two more. Well, now, the thought, a while family of whatever
it is. We are getting somewhere. I will bet these lead to some sort of central nest. He scraped cautiously.
Ah, there it was. The burrows all converged into a larger chamber, somewhat larger than his head. He
bent over and peered into this hole. And there seemed to be an even larger cavity below this one. Well,
he would soon get to the bottom of the mater. He continued to scrape. In another fifteen minutes he was
able to remove completely the dirt defining the upper chamber, and he was well into the lower chamber.
At one point he stopped and peered down into the lower hole. To his surprise, it seemed to have four
burrows slanting downward from it. More and more interesting. He wondered for a moment whether he
should call the professor. But the professor might scold him for the interruption. After all, it was still just a
hole. It wasn't as though he had uncovered the top of an artifact.
Just then a shadow fell on him. He looked up. It was the professor. Thorin smiled uncertainly. Then, as
he studied the professor's face, his smile vanished. "Is something wrong, Professor?"
"What is it?" asked the professor hoarsely.
"A hole, sir, that's all. Just a hole."
The professor climbed down into the excavation with him and squinted into the little chamber. After a
time he shifted his position and peered down again. "I need more room, please get out for a moment. Do
it as carefully as you can."
"Of course."
The professor pulled a handlight from his side pocket, got down on his hands and knees, and made a
final examination of the hole. Then he stood up laboriously, pressed a hand to the small of his back, and
asked, "There was a chamber just above this one?"
"Yes, sir," said Thorin uneasily.
"And four burrows leading down into that one?"
"Yes, sir. How did you know that?"
The professor groaned. It was a mournful, heartrending sound. Afterwards he was silent for a time.
A cluster of students had now gathered curiously around the pit. Coret put her arm protectively around
her husband's waist.
A tear began a zigzag course slowly down the furrows of the professor's cheek. "It is true," said the
professor sadly, "archeology is a destruction. But as I have already explained to all of you, it is a
controlled, informed, and educated destruction. We destroy the matrix of loess, mud, and gravel in order
to recover the primitive skull, the objet d'art, the bronze brooch."
"But I didn't destroy anything," protested Thorin. "There was this hole in the subsoil, about one meter
down, and I-- "
"This hole," said the professor, dignified, but white-faced, "was where an Araqnid statue used to be.
Alabaster is slowly soluble. It had been leached away by ground water, probably centuries ago. Only the
empty outline was left."
"But surely, the hole wasn't any good," said Thorin.