Then he was swinging free, like a plumb-bob on a string. Cold sweat drenched him. He clutched at the whiplash, clinging to it with both hands. Now the disc from which he hung climbed in slow spirals, circling away from the village. Behind and below him Craig glimpsed Narla, similarly suspended, swinging pendulum-like below a second saucer. The other discs drew in, grouping about the captives in loose formation. Still climbing, the whole flight topped the crest of the hills behind the village. Here browsed a great herd of the animals Craig had seen grazing. Sweeping low over them, the discs wheeled towards a log stockade atop a knoll, hovered above it for a moment, and then settled slowly. * * * * * At last Craig's feet touched ground inside the stockade. Shaking, he sank to the grass, fumbling to free his wrist from the whiplash. It came free. Scrambling up, he stumbled to where Narla lay in a crumpled, sobbing heap, and tugged loose the lash that held her. She clung to him, sobbing, her whole body shaking. Overhead, the discs still hovered almost motionless, making no move to land. Anger flared in Craig. Instead of releasing the whip, he surged up suddenly, jerking on it with all his might. The disc from which Narla had been suspended tilted sharply. The whipman pitched off, arms flailing, and sprawled spread-eagled in the grass. Craig dived onto him before he could even catch his breath--pinning him, gouging at his throat. But already the other discs were plummeting. Sinewy, work-worn hands dragged Craig back. Then a bronzed young giant who wore a high ceremonial helmet that must once have belonged to some baron's guard came striding forward. "Hold, friend!" He was laughing. Craig stared. "Bukal!" "No other." The strapping Baemae gripped Craig's hand. "But--the guards--I thought you dead." "And so did I, for a while, there." Bukal chuckled. "But perhaps the gods have marked me to die in the pit with Vydys' rollers. For at the last moment somebody stumbled and I made it away through the alleys, found a new disc, and fled south, here, to my home village." "So I see." Craig shook his head dazedly. "As for you, just now, you were not recognized in time." The Baemae was suddenly apologetic. "You'll not begrudge it that we protect our village? After all, the barons have tried a hundred tricks to trap us--so now we bring all strangers here for scrutiny before we pass them on to full fellowship among us." "Of course not." Craig matched the other's grin. "But is this"--he gestured to the log walls--"much of a prison?" Bukal smiled grimly. Leading Craig to the nearest crevice, he pointed out between the logs. "The djevoda stand guard for us." "The djevoda--?" Craig peered out. They were strange creatures. Taller than two men they towered--heavy-bodied, six-legged, elephantine. Great tusks gleamed below broad, pig-like snouts. "Watch!" Bukal commanded.