Angus bent and threw back the cowl of the scientist. There was a swelling lump on the back of his head. Angus said, "I thought you broke his skull when you hit him." He looked at the man stirring against the brick wall. "Sorry, friend. I thought you a footpad." "Tandor told me you were fast. He wasn't lying." The man grinned ruefully, feeling his jaw. Tandor shouldered Angus aside and picked up the cowled man. He led the way up through the streets, the limp man's legs and arms dangling inertly. Tandor asked, "Where was he taking you?" "To a hidden globe-ship. I'm supposed to find the Book of Nard. The Hierarch is holding Moana as hostage for my success." Tandor whistled softly, eyes round. "He exchanged me for the girl. A smart man, the High Priest!" * * * * * Laughter came out at them from the illy-lighted interior of the tavern together with the dry smell of wine and the stench of sweating flesh. Tandor kicked the oak door open and went along the wall with his burden. A girl with a rag around her middle ran for Angus, tipsily pressing wet lips to his. She threw up a wooden goblet, the red wine splashing over its rim, crying, "The Anvil! To Red Angus the Anvil--the only friend we have!" The roar echoed in his ears as Angus stepped into the little side room. Tandor kicked a chair toward Angus, reaching for a wooden pitcher. He growled, "Are you going hunting for the Book?" Angus stretched out his legs and dragged a full goblet toward him. He stared at the dark liquor. Finally he said, "Yes, I'm going." "Why?" "Because I've seen the way they live in the Upper City. I've seen the life they lead and I've seen the life those people out there in the big room lead." Tandor made a rumbling sound in his throat. "You don't think they'll appreciate your changing it, do you?" Angus looked thoughtful. He smiled, "I know what our race is heading toward, now. We will be like Stasor--the man behind the veil--eventually. The longer the Diktor stays in power, and others like him, the longer will the rest of us be kept from that goal." Tandor grinned like a wolf. "Some men like to be martyrs. It's a weakness of the brain." He scowled, and brought the flat of his ham-like hand down on the wooden tabletop. "I say it's madness. Let the Hierarch and the Diktor slit each other's throats. Let's go back to the star trails, Angus. Out where a man can breathe and stretch himself." Angus shook his head. "Take the ship yourself. Go raiding, if you want. I stay. I want to answer a question." "What question?" "Why is science?" "Why is--? You're crazy, now. I know it. Of all the stupid questions. Science is an art designed to better the life standards of the patrician class. There. That answer you?"