Barch calculated up into the regions above. Stalactites glittered and twinkled; the ceiling was gloomy, complex, Gothic -but there seemed to be enough room, when the time came, to invert Barge two over Barge One. A delicate maneuver, but Tick had a completely sure touch… As if Tick were telepathic, he looked up from where he squatted beside Pedratz, the welder, who was cutting pipe into stanchion lengths. He came bounding over the rocks like a cat. "Well?" asked Barch.
"When will you give me my charm?"
"You'll get it as soon as we're out in space."
Tick tugged desperately at his braided sideburn. "Too late, too late." His voice rose to a neighing. "I feel the bulk of terror-my brain aches, my knees are weak at wading through imagined blood."
Barch said in a cracked voice, "You'll ache all over if you don't stop that croaking. I've got your charm in my pocket; as long as I'm safe, it's safe. Think that over. Now go tell Porridge I want to talk to him."
Tick went crouch-backed across the stone floor; a moment later Porridge's round head pushed cautiously over the edge of Barge One. The opal eyes fixed on Barch a ruminative ten seconds, then he climbed up to the catwalk, backed down the ladder, trotted across the cave. "What do you want?"
"I want to talk with you about defending ourselves."
"I know nothing about fighting. The Podruods are the great fighters." He started to turn away.
"Just a moment," said Barch, grinning sourly. "We don't have any Podruods handy at the moment."
"True."
"From what you know of the Klau mind, how do you suppose they'll attack us?"
"I would assume that armored Podruod troops would be sent to kill us."
"And suppose that failed?"
Porridge's eyes bulged thoughtfully. "They might send a monitor with torpedoes to break open the mountain. Or they might establish a cone of lethal radiation against the cave opening and then we would be trapped like mice in a shoe."
"Come inside a minute," said Barch. "To send in troops, they have these alternatives. They can land a barge-load outside the valley, march them in, the same way the Klau come hunting. They can land a barge-load on this flat, in front of the cave. Or they can land them somewhere else in the valley, which is unlikely, because there are no other flat landing places within convenient distance."
Porridge looked uninterestedly along the damp black mountainside, then pointed across the valley. "A barge might land on the knoll of that bluff."
"Then the Podruods would have to climb down the steep slope and across those sharp rocks. However," said Barch, "that bluff would make a fine place to command the mouth of the cave. So that makes three areas we want to guard: the valley mouth, that bluff, and the flat here in front of the cave."
Porridge fidgeted. "Yes, yes. On Lenau we would convert the ground to a gel with vibrators."
"This happens to be the Palkwarkz Ztvo," said Barch. "I'm going to fly a load of explosive over to that bluff and bury a few mines. Can you build me a long-range detonator?"
"First, I must see the explosive."
"Let's go back to Big Hole," said Barch. He gave a last look up and down the valley. "A gray day; notice how high and thin the clouds are? Klau come hunting on such days."
They returned to Big Hole, went to the crates taken from Barge One. "Kerbol knew these explosives," said Barch, "I don't."
He pried open a crate, looked down at shiny gray bars lodged on a rack of rust-colored plastic. "This is super. Very powerful. We've got about sixty crates. Enough to blow up half Magarak."
He found a second box. "This is the stuff Kerbol used- abiloid. And this string is the fuse, or detonator."
"Yes, yes," said Porridge. "Quite common."
"Can you work out a remote control?"
Porridge glanced down to the dome of Barge two. "There are instruments which could easily be adapted."
"Good," said Barch. "Suppose you get at it right now."
"Very well."
Barch watched Porridge march briskly off. He felt eyes upon him-Tick's. When Barch turned his head, Tick looked away. Barch Watched Pedratz the welder a moment.
Each length of pipe made one stanchion, with about five feet of waste. The sight of the pile of five-foot lengths gave Barch an idea. He crossed the cave, tapped Pedratz's taffy-yellow shoulder. "Pedratz, seal off one end of about four of these." Barch pointed to the pipes.
Pedratz nodded, turned, prodded Tick with his toe. "Hoist four of those lengths into the dolly."
Barch's stump began to ache. He turned, left the Big Hole, started down the passage toward the hall. In the dark something sprang ferociously at him, threw him to the ground. Barch fell on his stump, felt the flesh squash, the blood squirt, lay in a daze. He felt nimble hands at his pouch, a hiss. Then there was a kick at the nape of his neck, a scuffle of footsteps.
Barch lay quietly, doing nothing more than existing. After a moment, with a whirling head, he gained his knees; his thoughts began to assume form again… Tick? He clasped a hand into his pouch. No charm.
Barch ran limp-legged down into the hall. Komeitk Lelianr, seated at one of the tables, looked up at him in consternation. "Who came through here?" croaked Barch.
"Tick…"
Barch ran to the crevice. Tick would make instinctively for the raft. If he escaped, if he added his story to what the Magarak Brain already knew… Barch pulled out his gun. Tick was at the raft, tugging at the mooring line. He saw Barch, slid off into the forest, sprang into the trees like a monkey. Barch heard his shrill mocking laugh. "Too late, too late, you'll see me nevermore." And there was the rustle of branches, the clatter of black fronds.
Barch went to the raft, sank on it limply. He looked at the stump of his left arm; the gray cloth binding was sticky and dark. The bone ached intolerably.
He swung himself aboard the raft, untied the mooring line. Rising over the treetops, he coasted slanting down toward the river, the course Tick would presumably take. Underneath him the black fronds flapped and rasped, glistening like the scales of a great black fish. Tick was no more visible than if he had been an insect.
Barch lowered the raft to tree level, put his head over the side, listened. A soft crashing, not too far away. Barch manipulated the pedals; the raft slid like a shadow over the treetops. Barch stopped again. Silence. The sound might have been a wild animal. Directly below him Barch heard the crush of feet. He peered through the fronds, gun ready. But he didn't see Tick-he saw a Podruod.
Barch froze. The Podruod, walking as stealthily as his weight and the ground would allow, vanished.
Barch looked swiftly around the sky. Was this the Klau attack he\had expected? Down toward the valley came a sharp hoarse cry, a high-pitched babble in a voice Barch recognized as Tick's. A vibrant bugle call. Below him heavy footsteps pounded, the Podruod running toward the sounds. Barch relaxed. A hunt, and Tick was the quarry. Best take the raft back to the cave before the Klau hunter rounded the bluff.
Barch slid the raft into its accustomed spot, sat listening. The Podruod bugle calls sounded now up at the head of the valley. If Tick gained the wilderness of rocks at the foot of Mount Kebali, he stood a fair chance of escaping. But the trumpeting shifted, sounding ever louder. He's leading them to the cave, thought Barch. He limped painfully across the flat to the opening of the crevice, stood in the shadows.
Over the forest came the long black shape of the Klau raft, the Klau following the chase like a fox-hunter riding to the hounds. The raft came nearer. Barch could see the silhouette of the Klau.
Tick broke out of the forest, ran erratically along the edge of the flat, paused, looked with a passionate eagerness toward the cave. Afraid to come, afraid not to come, thought Barch. Well, give the poor devil a chance. He stepped out. "Hey, Tick." Tick looked up. "Come on."