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But it was coming. He whirled to Dalgard, only to see that the other was on his feet and had taken up his spear. "It is the flitter! Soriki heard they're coming!" Raf hastened to assure him. For the last time he saw Dalgard's slow, warm smile, clearer than he had ever seen it before. Then the scout turned and trotted away, toward a fringing rock wall.
But he did not doubt the truth of Lablet's surmise. Sooner or later the aliens were going to reappear. And it did not greatly matter to the marooned Terrans whether they would drop from the sky or rise from below. Familiar only with the wave-riding outriggers, Dalgard took his seat in the alien craft with misgivings.
But if they could send another such tribe traveling, arouse and aim south a hopper exodus, the story would spread until the fringe would reach the animals who lived in peace within touch of Homeport. The sun was gone, the dark gathered fast. Dalgard could not even see the clustered buildings of the city now.
But since the war party had reached the coast, there had been no sign of any retaliation, and as several days passed, Dalgard had begun to believe that they had little to fear. Perhaps the blow they had struck at the heart of the citadel had been more drastic than they had hoped. He had listened since that hour in the gorge for the shrilling of one of the air hounds.
"This is but the sea entrance to the country," he corrected. "Here struck the day of fire, and we need not fear the machines which doubtless lie in wait elsewhere." They beached the outrigger and hid it in the shell of one of the ruined buildings on the lowest level. Dalgard sent out a questing thought, hoping to contact a hopper or even a duck-dog.
There is nothing to fear " The word ended abruptly in what was like a mental gasp of either astonishment or fear. Knowing all the menaces which might lie in wait, even in the shallows of the sea, Dalgard drew his knife once more as he plowed through water ready to rescue or at least to offer what aid he could. The spacemen spent a cramped and almost sleepless night.
His words had an odd inflection, a clipped accent which was new. "A lower way," he returned in the speech of his own people. "To the right." The merman, struggling against his own weakness, had raised his head and was looking about as one who searches for a familiar landmark. There was a branching way to the right, and Dalgard swung into it, bringing the other two after him.
"I'm one of a spacer's crew, not the member of any colony!" Dalgard stared at the stranger. His guess had been right. A new ship, another ship which had recently crossed deep space to find them had flown the dark wastes even as the First Elders had done! It must be that more outlaws had come to find a new home! This was wonderful news, news he must take to Homeport.
Then the stranger's hands dropped, and he swung around to face the colony scout squarely, a scowl twisting his black brows almost together. "This isn't my fight," he stated flatly. "I've got to get back to the flitter, to my spacer " What was the matter? Dalgard tried to understand. If the aliens won now, this stranger was in as great a danger as were the rest of them.
Then there was the stranger Dalgard knew that the ship which had brought him to this planet was somewhere in the north. Perhaps when he recovered, they could travel in that direction.
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