The _llorin_-pile's roof rose to within short feet of the window. Beyond it lay another; then a _Fantay_ spire.... Again he said, "Come on!" and levered open the window. New agitation gleamed in Sais' eyes, but she moved forward, wordless. Cat-like, Jarl dropped to the _llorin_ roof. After a moment's hesitation, Sais followed. Silent, nerves raw with tension, they picked a path along the beams to the next building and crossed to it. Here even the beams were rotten, sagging. Testing with his foot at each step, Jarl led the way around the outer wall to the spire beyond. Even at its lowest point, the edge of the _Fantay_ peak was feet above Jarl's head, across a yawning two-foot gap that plunged chasm-like to the ground so far below. Bleakly, Jarl studied it; measured the distance with his eye. "Up, Sais...." He lifted her; tottered precariously against the rim of coping while, whole body atremble, she balanced on his broad shoulders. She whispered, "Jarl, I'll never make it...." Her words died in a quavering sound of pure hysteria. * * * * * A trickle of sweat dripped from Jarl's chin. He dug his fingers into her ankles till her blood spurted and ran down his nails. "You'll make it...." "No, Jarl--! No! I can't--!" The sweat dripped faster. Jarl could feel Sais' terror. It crawled in her voice and breath and body, quaked and quivered in the very air. But behind there was only the tender mercy of Bor Legat's raiders. Ahead, at least they had a faint, slim chance to reach the carrier. The carrier ... so near, and yet so far. Through clenched teeth, he said, "You'll make it--or I'll drop you down the crack!" He tilted her forward. For an instant she hung there. He could hear a scream rising in her throat. Jarl Corvett died a thousand deaths. Then out she swung, high over the chasm. Instinctively, her hands shot out ... caught the _Fantay_ spire's low-dipping edge ... clung there.... He said tightly: "Pull yourself up! I'll help you!" Bracing himself, straining every muscle, he lifted her higher ... higher ... till her feet were at arm's length above his head. Panting, crying, she pulled herself half onto the spire. He let go her feet. She gasped in new panic. But her grip held firm. Twisting, spasmodically, she swung her feet up and lay there, sobbing. Jarl's muscles went weak as water. But he did not dare to hesitate. Stiffly, he swung onto the knee-high coping; crouched there. The chasm below drew his eyes like a magnet. He tore them away; forced himself to look up, instead, to the spire. Sucking in air, he poised himself, tensing. Sais stared down at him. Something close akin to horror was in her eyes. With all his might, Jarl leaped upward, outward, straining to reach the other wall. One hand touched--and slipped. The other hooked round the edge of the stone ledge above.