"Men!" breathed Arbush. "Earl! They're men!"
Dumarest caught him as he was about to rise, to shout and reveal their position.
"Keep down! Keep quiet!"
"But-"
"They're men," agreed Dumarest. "But what kind? Scavengers? Thieves? Cannibals?"
In this frozen hell anything was possible, and there were many cultures which regarded a stranger as a source of food. Conveniently packaged protein-the need to survive made its own rules.
"They must have seen us crash," whispered Arbush. "Stumbled upon us while they were searching for the ship. But they must have a place to live. Earl. Caves, maybe, anything. We've got money and could bribe them to help us, to guide us to a city."
Hia yearning was an echo. In his tones. Dumarest heard it, recognised it; yet recognised too the danger Arbush had overlooked. A bargain needed two to make it; what was to stop the strangers from taking all they owned and giving nothing in return?
Yet, without them, what chance did they have to survive?
Dumarest said, "This is what well do. You stand and wave. Don't move; wait for them to come towards you. When they are fairly close, step out to confront them. I'll cover you. If they make any attempt to attack we'll shoot them down."
"Kill them, Earl!"
"Kill all but one. We'll need information." Harshly he added, "And we could use their clothes."
Crouched on the ice, hands extended, hands tight around the laser, finger clamped on the trigger, Dumarest stared over the barrel at the distant shapes. Beside him Arbush rose, shouting, waving.
"Hi, there! I'm here! Over here!"
The little group froze, then scattered; running, dispersing, blending into the ice. For long minutes there was nothing and then they reappeared, closer now, tiny plumes of vapor streaming from their muffling cowls.
Again Arbush shouted. "Please help me. I need help. My friend is badly hurt."
Not a lie, and they would know that he wasn't alone. Dumarest fought the desire to cough, feeling the warm liquid in his throat, the taste of blood in his mouth. He felt a growing lassitude, the edges of his vision becoming rimmed with black. He had lain immobile for too long. Internal blood loss and the cold was taking its effect; the hypothermia could be as fatal as a knife in the heart.
Determinedly he blinked, shaking his head, narrowing his eyes as he stared over the barrel of the laser at the advancing group. They were cautious, as wary as beasts as they approached; looking to either side and up towards the sky.
Up?
He turned as the group dissolved, racing back and away; he saw the nacreous glare of the sky, the man-like things silhouetted against it, one of which was diving like an arrow towards where he lay.
"Earl!" Arbush yelled as Dumarest rolled, slamming the weight of his body against the minstrel's legs, knocking him down and to one side, to sprawl against the ice. "Earl, what-"
Steam exploded from where he had stood, a gushing spout of scalding water mixed with fragments of shattered ice; the heat and noise of the explosion added to the concussion of the shock-wave.
Vapor wreathed them, settled, froze in a disguising blanket of frost. Through it Dumarest saw the thing which had attacked them and its two companions pass on; more explosions rising above the ice from the missiles they fired as, wheeling, they turned to vanish into the sky towards the south.
"Armored men," said Arbush wonderingly. "Fitted with flying packs and carrying guns. A hunting party Earl? Mistaking us for those others we saw? But they were men. Who would hunt down men from the sky?"
"I don't know." Dumarest rose, conscious of his fatigue, his weakness. "But they've stopped our chances of getting help from those we saw. They must think we lured them into a snare."
"Some could be dead," said Arbush. "Shall we look?"
"No. There could be others. The way they must be feeling, they'll kill us on sight and I wouldn't blame them." Dumarest looked toward the south. "Those flyers were dropping, maybe heading towards a landing place. There must be a city there, somewhere. A camp at least. We have to find it."
"And soon." Arbush began to shiver, his face blotched, unhealthy; the tip of his nose deathly white. Frostbite which would spread to his toes, his hands. "Earl, it will have to be soon."
* * * * *
Adara said, patiently, "Eloise, why be so stubborn? Why can't you be reasonable?"
"Which means what?" she flared. "Be reasonable-do it my way. At times, Adara, you make me sick!"
"That isn't fair!"
"But true. You saw the ship. You said yourself that it would land close, and what have you done about it? Nothing. What has anyone else done? The same. Well, I've waited long enough."
Too long, she thought. Years too long; but up until now there had been no chance, and she'd had no choice but to wait. Now things were different. A ship had landed and it was close-and no one seemed to care!
"Eloise!" He stepped towards her, his hands rising to grip her shoulders; the action betraying his concern, his need. "You can't go out there, you know that. Even if you could, what do you hope to find? Don't you remember how it was before? You were lucky then. It was only by an accident that you were found. I-"
"You had guts then," she said coldly. "You saw what happened and did something about it. Well, now it's my turn."
Defeated, he let his hands fall from her furred shoulders. She was wearing thick garments of synthetic material, a cap of fur on her head, thick boots on her legs. Outdoor garb for those who chose to indulge in long walks outside the city. Beyond the transparent doors of the vestibule in which they stood, he could see others similarly dressed. Not many, for few chose to expose themselves to the rigors of the cold; but enough to make touches of color against the starkness of the ringing hills, the paths crisp with frost.
He said, "You don't even know which way to go. You don't know how far. It will be dark before you reach the hills, and then what? You couldn't go on even if the Monitors would let you."
"But you-"
"That was different You were close-and I had permission."
"Of course." She was acid. "You would have had to have that."
"Naturally." He was unaffected by her gibe, not recognizing the insult. "How else to gain the aid of the Monitors? You don't think for a moment you could scale the hills alone, do you? Eloise why can't you be willing to-"
"Be reasonable?"
"— face the facts. At least check with Camolsaer."
The obvious which she had forgotten or, if not forgotten, had not yet done; perhaps reluctant to face the truth. She looked at Adara with sudden suspicion. He, knowing of her interest, must have already checked. Why hadn't he told her what he had learned? And then, looking into his face, his eyes, she guessed the answer. He, least of all, would want to be the bringer of bad news.
With abrupt decision she walked to the nearest terminal.
"Eloise. What news about the ship?"
"Which ship?"
"The one which crashed." With an effort she mastered her impatience; with Camolsaer it was essential to be precise. "Two days ago, at evening, an object which could have been a vessel crossed the sky close to Instone. It seemed to be in trouble. Did it land?"
"An impact was noted."
"Where?"
"At a point about fifty miles to the north and east. The exact location is-"
"Never mind." The figures would mean nothing to her. "Tell me what was found."
"No investigation has been made."
"What? A ship crashed and you didn't even make an investigation?"
"The object could have been a vessel in distress, or it could not. No signals were received, therefore the conclusion is that it was not a vessel. In any case, it is not within the boundaries of Instone."