For the second time they entered the arena. Avoiding the bodies,
Sssuri made a circuit of the sanded floor. He did not turn in at the
archway which led to the storage place, but paused before another as
if there lay what he had been searching for.
Dalgard's less sensitive nostrils picked up a new scent, the
not-to-be-missed fetor of damp underground ways where water stood.
The merman edged around a barred gate as Dalgard sniffed again. The
smell of damp was crossed by other and even less appetizing odors, but
he did not catch the stench of the snake-devils. And, relying on
Sssuri's judgment, he followed the merman into the dark.
Once again patches of violet light glimmered over their heads as the
passage narrowed and sloped downward. Dalgard tried to remember the
general geography of the section which was above them now. He had
assumed that this way with its dank chill must give on the river. But
when they had pattered on for a long distance, he knew that either
they had passed beneath the stream or that he was totally lost as to
direction.
As their eyes adjusted to the gloom of the passage the violet light
grew stronger. So Dalgard saw clearly when Sssuri whirled and faced
back along the way they had come, his body in a half crouch, his knife
ready in his hand.
Dalgard, his bow useless in the damp, drew his own sword-knife. But,
though his mind probed and he listened, he could sense or hear nothing
on their trail.
8
AIRLIFT
They were air-borne once more, but Raf was not pleased. In the seat
beside him, which Captain Hobart should be occupying, there now
squirmed an alien warrior who apparently was uncomfortable in the
chair-like depression so different from the low stools he was
accustomed to. Soriki was still in the second passenger place, but he,
too, shared that with another of the men from the city who rested
across bony knees a strange weapon rather like a Terran rifle.
No, the spacemen were not prisoners. According to the official
statement they were allies. But, Raf wondered, as against his will he
followed the globe in a northeastern course, how long would that
fiction last if they refused to fall in with any suggestions the
aliens might make? He did not doubt that there was on board the globe
some surprise which could shoot the flitter out of the air, if, for
example, he adjusted the controls before him and bore west toward the
mountains and the safety of the space ship. Either of the aliens he
now transported could bring him under control by using those weapons,
which might do anything from boiling a man in some unknown ray to
smothering him in gas. He had not seen the arms in action, and he did
not want to.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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