The god swayed, groaned like a thing of life, and toppled over, squashing one of the howling witches--a blind one--like a red bug. The village dropped into total silence. Paul could see Ann now. The pygmies had let her go. The whiteness of her face had more than terror in it: it had exultation, a glory of excitement and wrath. Paul's own captors had lurched away; his automatic had slipped into his hand without conscious effort; he searched in desperation for something that might restore his friends to steadier sanity. "Walk," he said. "Walk, don't run, to the nearest exit...." The pygmies allowed it. The god had fallen. They even stood back, too profoundly dazed for any thought or protest.... At the edge of the village Spearman jumped in the ditch, reached for Ann, swung her up on the other side. "Did anyone bring a flashlight?" "Oh, I--I did," said Ann, and began to cry. "Brought flashlight--'stead of gun...." Paul stayed in the rear. "They won't follow, I think. Not for a while." The stooping passageway was hard to find. But when they won clear of it there was the guiding sound of the stream. Paul held the flashlight on the line of stepping stones until the others had crossed. Ann was still weeping in reaction. "We'll never win. It's all madness--the ship, everything. All human beings are crazy, crazy--" "Hush, dear," Spearman said. "We got out, didn't we?" Now, where was the trail? A madness of groping, blundering, where there was no path, no guidance, and even their little thread of light a mockery and confusion. Abruptly, ahead of them, there were other lights, then voices--Mijok's soft rumbling, Wright's clear outcry: "There they are! All three, Mijok--" Paul ran to him. "The others--Dorothy? Sears?" "Right as rain, son," Wright mumbled. "Except Dot's been frantic about you since we heard the shot. We left Sears practically sitting on her--well, figuratively. Women are odd, you know: they don't like shots in the night when the best boy friend is out on the tiles." "Had a little trouble. They may come after us--don't know...." Ann was quiet. Paul saw her white hands starfished on the gray of Mijok's chest. She said, "Mijok, I'm tired and sick. Will you carry me?" Spearman groaned: "Ann, what--Use your head...." But Mijok knelt at once to make a cradle of his arms, and Christopher Wright said, "Why not? Why shouldn't we need each other?" Mijok went ahead with her on the blind trail. Paul heard Spearman choke: "I would have carried her." It was not meant to be heard. Paul looked away, hearing also the deep precision of the giant's voice exploring the mystery of words: "You are my people. I will not ever be much time far from you." Part Two The Year One 1