Four hunters stepped from the forest, where they had stationed themselves to spy out the game. Reith's heart sank into his boots. "Keep going," he said to Anacho. "We'll fight them."
Anacho looked dubiously at the power-gun. "If they take us with guns, they'll toss us for days ... but I was to be tossed in any event."
The Dirdir watched in fascination as Reith and Anacho approached. "We must take them into the forest," muttered Anacho. "The judges will intervene if they see our guns."
"Around to the left then, and behind that clump of yellow grass."
The Dirdir did not advance to meet them, but moved to the side. With a final burst Reith and Anacho gained the edge of the forest. The Dirdir screamed their hunt slogans and sprang forward, while Reith and Anacho retreated.
"Now," said Reith. They brought forth their guns. The Dirdir gave a croak of dismay. Four quick shots: four dead Dirdir. Instantly from high above came a great howclass="underline" a mind-jarring ululation. Anacho shouted out in sheer frustration,
"The judges saw. They'll watch us now, and direct the hunt. We are lost."
"We have a chance," Reith insisted. He wiped the sweat from his face, squinting against the glare. "In three minutes-if all goes well-the explosion. Let's go on to the long spire."
They ran through the forest, and as they emerged they saw hunt-teams loping in their direction. The howling overhead rose and fell, then stopped.
They reached the single spire, with the glass wall only a hundred yards distant.
Above, obscured by glare and reflections, ran the observation decks; Reith was barely able to make out the gaping spectators.
He checked his watch.
Now.
An interval, to be expected: the Box was three miles across. Seconds passed, then came a great puff of shock and a thunderous reverberation. Lights flickered; far to the east they were extinguished. Reith peered but could not see the effect of the blast. From overhead, up and down the length of the field, came a frantic baying, expressing rage so savage and stupendous that Reith's knees became weak.
Anacho was more matter-of-fact. "They direct all hunts east to the rupture, to prevent the escape of game."
The hunts which had been converging upon Reith and Anacho turned and raced off to the east.
"Get ready," said Reith. He looked at his watch. "To the ground."
A second explosion: a tremendous shatter to gladden Reith's heart, to lift him into a state of near religious exaltation. Shards and chunks of gray glass whistled overhead; the lights dimmed, went dark. Before them appeared a gap, like an opening into a new dimension, a hundred feet wide, almost as high as the first observation deck.
Reith and Anacho jumped to their feet. Without difficulty they reached the wall and sprang through-away from the arid Sibol, out into the dim Tschai afternoon.
Down the broad white avenue they ran, then at Anacho's direction turned off to the north, toward the factories and the white Dirdirman spires, then to the waterfront, and across the causeway into Sivishe.
They halted to catch their breath. "Best that you go direct to the sky-car," said Reith. "Take it and leave. You won't be safe in Sivishe."
"Woudiver issued the information against me; he'll do the same for you," said Anacho.
"I can't leave Sivishe now, with the spaceship so near to completion. Woudiver and I must have an understanding."
"Never," said Anacho bleakly. "He is a great wad of malice."
"He can't betray the spaceship without endangering himself," argued Reith. "He is our accomplice; we work in his shed."
"He'd explain it away somehow."
"Perhaps, perhaps not. In any event, you must leave Sivishe. We'll share the money-then you must go. The sky-car is no more use to me."
Anacho's white face became mulish. "Not so fast, I am not the goal of a tsaugsh, remember this. Who will take the initiative to seek me out?"
Reith looked back toward the Glass Cage. "You don't think they'll seek you in Sivishe?"
"They are unpredictable. But I'm as safe in Sivishe as anywhere else. I can't go back to the Ancient Realm. They won't seek me at the shed unless Woudiver betrays the project."
"Woudiver must be controlled," said Reith.
Anacho only grunted. They set off once more, through the mean alleys of Sivishe.
The sun passed behind the spires of Hei and dimness seeped into the already shadowed streets. Reith and Anacho rode by public powerwagon to the shed.
Woudiver's office was dark; within the shed dim lights glimmered. The mechanics had gone home; there seemed to be no one on the premises ... In the shadows a figure moved. "Traz!" cried Reith.
The lad came forward. "I knew that you would come here, if you won free."
Neither the nomads nor the Dirdirmen were given to demonstration; Anacho and Traz merely took note of each other.
"Best that we leave this place," said Traz. "And quickly."
"I said to Anacho, I say to you: take the sky-car and go. There is no reason for you to risk another day in Sivishe."
"And what about you?"
"I must take my chances here."
"The chances are very small, what with Woudiver and his vindictiveness."
"I will control Woudiver."
"An impossibility!" Anacho cried out. "Who can control such perversity, so much monstrous passion? He is beyond reason."
Reith nodded somberly. "There is only one certain way, and it may be difficult."
"How do you intend this miracle?" Anacho demanded.
"I intend simply to take him at gunpoint, and bring him here. If he will not come, I will kill him. If he comes, he will be my captive, under constant guard.
I can think of nothing better."
Anacho grunted. "I would not object to guarding Big Yellow."
"The time to act is now," said Traz. "Before he knows of the escape."
"For you two, no!" Reith declared. "If I get killed ... too bad but unavoidable.
It is a risk I have to take. Not so for you. Take the skycar and money, leave now while you are able!"
"I remain," said Traz.
"And I as well," said Anacho.
Reith made a gesture of defeat. "Let's go after Woudiver."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE THREE STOOD in the dark court outside Woudiver's apartments, judging how best to open the postern. "We don't dare force the lock," muttered Anacho.
"Woudiver undoubtedly guards himself with alarms and death-traps."
"We'll have to go over the top," said Reith. "It shouldn't be too hard to reach the roof." He studied the wall, the cracked tile, a twisted old psilla. "Nothing to it." He pointed. "Up there, across to there-then there and over."
Anacho shook his head gloomily. "I'm surprised to find you still so innocent.
Why do you think the route appears so simple! Because Woudiver is convinced no one can climb? You'd find strings, traps and jangle-buttons every place you put your hand."
Reith chewed his lip in mortification. "Well, then, how do you propose we get in?"
"Not through here," said Anacho. "We must defeat Woudiver's craft with cleverness of our own."
Traz made a sudden motion, and drew the other two back into the deep shadows of an area-way.
Along the alley came a shuffle of footsteps. A tall thin shape limped past them and went to stand by the postern. Traz whispered: "Deine Zarre! He's in a bitter state."
Deine Zarre stood motionless; he brought forth a tool and worked on the lock.