"Serafs," said Anacho. "We explore for asofa root."
"Ah, the Serafs and their perfumes. I have heard tales. Well, don't play your immortal antics on us; we are a simple people. In any event, there is no asofa among the chasms; only cripthorn, spumet and rack-belly."
"Nevertheless, we will go forth to search."
"Go then. There is said to be an ancient road somewhere to the north, but I know of none who have seen it."
"What people inhabit the chasms? Are they friendly?"
"'People'? A joke. A few pysantillas, red cors under every rock, bodebirds. If you are extremely unlucky you might meet a fere."
"It seems a dire region."
"Aye, a thousand miles of cataclysm. Still, who knows? Where cowards never venture, heroes find splendor. So it may be with your perfume. Strike out to the north and seek the ancient road to the coast. It will be no more than a mark, a crumble. When darkness comes, make yourself secure: night-hounds range the wastes!"
Reith said, "You have dissuaded us; we will return east with the motorwagon."
"Wise, wise! Why, after all, throw away your lives, Seraf or no?"
Reith and his companions rode the motor-wagon a mile back down the road, then inconspicuously slid to the ground. The wagon lumbered east and presently disappeared into the amber murk.
There was silence about them. They stood on coarse gray soil, with here and there wisps of salmon-colored thorn and at even greater intervals a coarse tangle of pilgrim plant, which Reith saw with a certain glum satisfaction. "So long as we find pilgrim plant we won't starve."
Traz gave a dubious grunt. "We had best reach the mountains before dark. On the flat night-hounds have advantage over three men."
"I know an even better reason for haste," said Anacho. "The Dirdir won't be puzzled long."
Reith searched the empty sky, the bleak landscape. "They might conceivably become discouraged."
"Never! When thwarted they grow excited, furious with zeal."
"We're not far from the mountains. We can hide in the shadow of the boulders, or in one of the ravines."
An hour's travel brought them under the crumbling basalt palisade. Traz suddenly halted, sniffed the air. Reith could smell nothing, but long since had learned to defer to Traz's perceptions.
"Phung* droppings," said Traz. "About two days old."
Reith nervously checked the availability of his handgun. Eight explosive pellets remained. When these were gone the gun became useless. It might be, thought Reith, that his luck was running out. He asked Traz, "Is it likely to be close at hand?"
Traz shrugged. "The Phung are mad things. For all I know, one stands behind that boulder."
Reith and Anacho looked uneasily about. Anacho finally said, "Our first concern must be the Dirdir. The critical period has begun. They will have traced us aboard the motor-wagon; they can easily follow us to Siadz. Still, we are not completely without advantage, especially if they lack game-finding instruments."
"What instruments are these?" asked Reith.
"Detectors of human odor or heat radiation. Some trace footprints by residual warmth, others observe exhalations of carbon dioxide and locate a man from a distance of five miles."
"And when they catch their game?"
"The Dirdir are conservative. They do not recognize change," said Anacho. "They need not hunt but are driven by inner forces. They consider themselves beasts of prey, and impose no restraint upon themselves."
"In other words," said Traz, "they will eat us."
Reith was gloomily silent. At last he said, "Well, we must not be captured."
"As Zarfo the Lokhar said, 'Death comes but once.' "
Traz pointed. "Notice the break into the palisade. If ever a road existed, there it must go."
Across barren hummocks of compacted gray soil, around tangles of thorn and tumbled beds of rubble, the three hurried, perspiring and constantly watching the sky. At last they reached the shadow of the notch, but could find no trace of the road. If ever it existed, detritus and erosion had long ago expunged it from view.
Anacho suddenly gave a low sad call. "The sky-car. It comes. We are hunted."
Reith forced back a panicky urge to run. He looked up the notch. A small stream trickled down the center, to terminate in a stagnant tarn. To the right rose a steep slope; to the left, a massive buttress overhung an area of deep shade, at the back of which was an even deeper shadow: the mouth of a cave.
The three crouched behind the tumble which choked half the ravine. Out over the plain the Dirdir boat, with chilling deliberation, slid toward Siadz.
Reith said in a neutral voice, "They can't detect our radiation through the rocks. Our carbon dioxide blows up the notch." He turned to look up the valley.
"No point in running," said Anacho. "There's no sanctuary. If they follow us this far they will chase us forever."
Five minutes later the sky-car returned from Siadz, following the road east, at an altitude of two or three hundred yards. Suddenly it swerved and circled.
Anacho said in a fateful voice, "They have found our tracks."
The sky-car came across the plain, directly toward the notch. Reith brought forth his handgun. "Eight pellets left. Enough to explode eight Dirdir."
"Not enough to explode one. They carry shields against such missiles."
In another half-minute the sky-car would be overhead. "Best that we take to the cave," said Traz.
"Obviously the haunt of Phung," muttered Anacho. "Or an adit of the Pnume. Let us die cleanly, in the open air."
"We can walk through the pond," said Traz, "and stand below the overhang. Our trail is then broken; they may follow the stream up the valley."
"If we stand here," said Reith, "we're finished for sure."
The three ran through the shallow fringes of the pond, Anacho gingerly bringing up the rear. They huddled under the loom of the cliff. The odor of Phung was strong and rich.
Over the shoulder of the mountain opposite came the skyboat. "They'll see us!" said Anacho in a hollow voice. "We're in plain sight!"
"Into the cave," hissed Reith. "Back, further back!"
"The Phung-"
"There may be no Phung. The Dirdir are certain!" Reith groped back into the dark, followed by Traz and finally Anacho. The shadow of the sky-car passed over the pond, flitted on up the valley.
Reith flashed his light here and there. They stood in a large chamber of irregular shape, the far end obscured in murk. Light brown nodules and flakes covered the floor ankle-deep; the walls were crusted over with horny hemispheres, each the size of a man's fist.
"Night-hound larvae," muttered Traz.
Anacho stole to the cave-mouth, looked cautiously forth. He jerked back.
"They've missed our trail; they're circling."
Reith extinguished the light and looked cautiously from the cave-mouth. A
hundred yards away the sky-car descended to the ground, silent as a falling leaf. Five Dirdir alighted. For a moment they stood in consultation; then, each carrying a long transparent shield, they advanced into the notch. As if at a signal, two leaped forward like silver leopards, peering along the ground. Two others came behind at a slow lope, weapons ready; the fifth remained to the rear.
The pair in the lead stopped short, communicating in odd squeaks and grunts.
"The hunting language," Anacho muttered, "from the time they were yet beasts."
"They look no different now."
The Dirdir halted at the far shore of the pond. They looked, listened, smelled the air, obviously aware their prey was close at hand.
Reith sighted along his handgun, but the Dirdir continually twitched their shields, frustrating his aim.