The sound of tentative footsteps, scuffling along the pebbly cavern path, woke the Watchdog. There was never much light in the cave, and he blinked his eyes as he tried to focus. Not that he really needed to see the intruder; he could feel the uneven steps like dull throbs against his skin. The cavern floor was as much a part of the Watchdog as his eyes, and far more sensitive.
There it is, thought the stony guardian. That bit of lumpy shade in the half-light, that would be a human. Not even carrying a torch, it would seem, just fumbling about. The Watchdog stretched one of his long sinews in the wall, letting out a subsonic rumble like two boulders rubbing together. He saw the moving shape freeze suddenly.
The Watchdog was used to this sort of dog-and-mouse game. He had been the sentinel for the Stronghold of the Jewel for a thousand years and more. Countless intruders had sought entrance through the Stronghold’s only door – this cave shaft – seeking treasure, or mischief, or even to threaten one of the Masters in their dens. All such uninvited visitors, bearing no proper message, met only the Dog in the Hall, and never left again. Dogs like to bury bones.
It, the human, was moving again, more cautiously, and had one hand against the wall of the cavern, resting on a small projection of stone. Did it know that it was touching one of the guardian’s claws? Had it heard stories of how the very stone of the cave would shift, how talons of granite would reach out like growing shadows, how the overhang just ahead would become a gaping fanged maw? Perhaps. Such stories would never be carried abroad by visiting thieves, since all such were still — here. But occasionally, the Watchdog, bored with his lot, would give a legitimate petitioner a glimpse, just to set the proper mood.
Not that he was often bored, long though the cavern lay dark and unvisited. As one of the Dogs, he was not totally bound by that one life. He had two Aspects, two running experiences of perception. The mind of a Dog integrates the two perspectives with no more difficulty than a human merges the signals of his pair of eyes. In one Aspect, he was the cave-guard, latent in the walls, ready to pounce on unwanted guests. But in his other Aspect, he now ran across an open plain, under twin moons. A thunderous eight-ton stone canine with six mighty legs and a huge toothy muzzle, he chased prey along dry lowlands, free and alive.
As his galloping alter-ego bayed a blood-curdling cry to the night sky, his sessile Aspect watched the human. It seemed to be gathering its resolve, and the Watchdog wondered if it might bolt down the cavern to try to reach the Inner Court. A deep hunger trembled within the Dog’s rocky ribcage, arching low over the small bipedal intruder. But the kill was not forthcoming.
Instead, the man drew forth something like a long tube, dull bronze and worn. Pointing it at the ground, the visitor activated it somehow, and from the end of the tube drifted shapes like small puffs of smoke. These wisps seemed to coalesce as they touched the floor, becoming translucent geometric shapes in faint pastels, lit from within.
The Watchdog eyed the heap of cubes, pyramids, and polyhedra, knowing them for what they were: frags. Each not-quite-there shape was the formal extension, through folding dimensions, of a distant Body of Knowledge. When one touched a frag, one was immediately in touch with the information resident in the associated Body; each Body was a vast library of specific lore.
With regret (for he had really anticipated a meal), the Watchdog realized that this visitor was a legitimate guest, proffering official credentials. Through his stony skin, he reached into the heap of shapes and felt for data. A legal registration with the College of Twin Lights, a signed agreement authorizing an audience with the Master Towhee of the Stronghold, a list of requested scrolls and research goals – it was all sadly in order. The human was a scholar, not a thief.
Resisting the urge to bare his fangs just for effect, the Watchdog receded deeper into the dark walls and drifted back to slumber. On the far side of the planet, a rampant stone monster tore its prey apart and roared a bellow of triumph.
[This snippet is inspired by a scene from a very old computer game named Altered Destiny.]