Presently, after a few weightless contortions, the muffling Greenhaven flannels were sent swirling into a corner. Maria laughed softly as she set a bare foot against the bulkhead to launch herself back into Willard's arms. EIGHTEEN Was it the pain in his head that made everything seem to sway? Or was it the swaying that made his head hurt? Taranto opened his eyes slowly. For two or three minutes, in the darkness, he did not understand what he saw. Gradually, comprehension developed. He was on a litter again, and the bearers were descending a rough track into a shallow valley. There was no sign of the city or of any other landmark even vaguely familiar. Jagged rocks formed a ridge to his left, curving around to enclose the depression. Other rocky buttes, he saw through slitted eyes, projected from the barren rubble of the Valley floor. There seemed to be little sand, unless it had blown down into the lower areas. Cautiously, letting his head roll with the lurching motion of the bearers, he learned that another group was ahead. He thought they must be guarding Meyers. The red-uniformed officer marched just preceding Taranto's litter. That meant that there must be two soldiers behind, out of his view. _What now?_ he asked himself. _It was a good try, but it didn't work out._ It seemed hopeless to attempt anything further until he found out where he was. Nor would it do any harm to learn _how_ he was--they must have crowned him beautifully. He tried to move his arms and legs slightly without being obviously restless. Nothing felt broken. There was just the sore throbbing behind his left ear. Were they taking him and Meyers further into the desert, to make sure they could properly be reported dead? Or was the party on its way back to the city? Taranto moved about stealthily, as the litter heaved from side to side and bounced about with the efforts of his bearers to negotiate outcroppings of rock. He was surprised that his arms and legs were not tied. He wondered how long he had been out cold. Perhaps the Syssokans believed he really was dead from that spear across the skull. _You shouldn't have underestimated that guy just because you dropped him a few times_, he told himself. _You caught on to the difference, but he learned it from you._ From ahead and lower on the path came voices. There was a brisk breeze, but Taranto thought he could recognize Meyers giving vent to an outraged whine. _Wonder how much of a grudge they'll hold?_ he thought. _Some of them must be lumped up pretty good._