He looked around the sky. Black clouds swept low under the overcast, trailing skeins of rain. Etzwane shivered. This is a dire place; the sooner we are gone the better."
One of the men said dubiously, "We will be leaving water and food."
"The asutra? " Etzwane grimaced. "I'll never be so hungry. In any event they are alien life-stuff and probably poisonous. " He turned away. "The spaceships may be back; we had better be gone before that time."
"All very well," complained old Sul, "but where is our destination? We are doomed men; why make haste nowhere?"
"I can propose a destination. South beside the morass is the camp, the closest place for food and water."
The men squinted at him in doubt and puzzlement. Korba demanded somewhat truculently: "You want us to go back to the camp, when we are free at last?"
Another man grumbled, "First I'll eat asutra and drink their filth. I was born a Graythorn of the Bagot race, and we are not the sort to enslave ourselves for food."
"I said nothing of enslaving ourselves," said Etzwane. "Have you forgotten the weapons we carry? We do not go to eat slave food; we go to take what we want and to pay off some old debts. We follow the shore south, until we find the camp, then we shall see."
"It is a far way," muttered someone.
Etzwane said, "We came by transport ship in two hours. To return we will ride two days, or three, or four, but there is no help for it."
"Precisely right," Korba declared. "We may be killed by asutra lightning, but none of us expects long life! Let us go seek death on our own terms! "
"Into your cars, then," said Etzwane. "We drive south."
They circled the pond and the smoldering globe-ship, then drove up over the black moor, where rows of glossy tracks indicated the way they had come. Down the long slope they slid, past the exploded base. Somewhere under the rubble, thought Etzwane, lay Polovits, his tyranny completed, his face pressed into the mold. Etzwane felt a grim compassion, in which was mingled outrage for the wrongs done to himself and the human folk. He looked back at the lizard-cars; he and his fellows were as good as dead, but first they would harm their enemies.
The morass was close at hand: a limitless expanse of ooze, blotched with chalk-green scum. The cars swung south and proceeded along the edge of the moor. Clouds hung heavy and low; in the distance moor, morass and sky blurred together without discernible line of conjunction.
South slid the cars, a supple, sinister train, the men never looking back. During the afternoon they came to a slough of brackish dark water, of which they drank, despite a bitter aftertaste, and filled the receptacles within the cars; then, fording the slough at the very brink of the morass, they continued south.
The sky darkened; the evening rain fell, to be instantly absorbed by the moss. The cars proceeded through the dusk, which presently became darkness. Etzwane brought the column to a halt and the men climbed out upon the moss, groaning for their sore muscles and hunger. They stretched and hobbled back and forth along the line, muttering in gruff, hoarse voices. Some, noting how distinct was the division between the luminous ooze of the morass and the dead blackness of the moor, wanted to drive on through the night. "The sooner we come to the camp the sooner we make an end to the matter; we will eat or be killed."
"I am also in haste," said Etzwane, "but the dark is too dangerous. We have no lights and cannot stay together. What if someone becomes torpid and goes to sleep? Hungry or not, we must wait for day."
"In the light we are visible to skycraft," argued one of the men. "There are dangers in both directions, but our bellies howl for food regardless."
"We'll start as soon as the dawn gives light," said Etzwane. "To travel through the black night is folly. My belly is as slack as anyone's; for lack of anything better I plan to sleep. " He troubled to talk no further, and went down to the shore to look out over the morass. The ooze glowed blue in lines and reticulations, these slowly moving and forming new patterns. Flickers of pale light hung in the reeds and moved in wisps across the open spaces… At Etzwane's feet something scuttled across the mud; by its outline he saw it to be a large, flat insect, walking on a dozen pads across the ooze. He peered close. An asutra? No, something different, but perhaps in just some similar swamp had the asutra evolved. Perhaps even on Kahei, though the first cantos of the Great Song made no reference to asutra… Others of the group walked by the shore, marveling at the lights and the eerie solitude… Along the shore someone struck a tiny fire, using dried bits of moss and reed for fuel. Etzwane saw that several men had captured insects and were preparing to toast and eat them. Etzwane gave a fatalistic shrug. He was leader by the most tenuous of contracts.
The night was long in passing. Etzwane tried to find room to sleep within the lizard-car, then came forth and lay down upon the moss. A cold wind blew through the night, allowing him no real comfort. He dozed… Sounds of anguish awakened him. He rose to his feet and felt his way along the line of cars. Three men lay on the ground, retching convulsively. Etzwane stood a moment, then went back to his car. He could offer neither comfort nor help; indeed so close about them hung doom that the death of three men seemed of no great import… A misty rain slanted down on the wind. Etzwane once more entered the car. The groans of the poisoned men became less distinct, and presently were heard no more.
Dawn finally arrived, and three men lay dead upon the spongy black turf: the three who had eaten insects. Without comment Etzwane went to his car, and the column proceeded south.
The moors seemed endless; the men drove the cars in a semi torpor. At noon they came upon another slough, and drank of the water. The reeds surrounding carried clusters of waxy fruit, which one or two of the men gingerly examined. Etzwane said nothing, and the men turned reluctantly away.
Korba stood looking along the moors to the south. He pointed to a far shadow which might be either a cloud or a jutting mountain. "North of the camp rose a crag," said Korba, "perhaps that which lies ahead."
"We have farther to go," said Etzwane. "The ship which took us north moved at a considerable speed. I suspect that two days of travel, or more, still lie ahead."
"If our bellies will give us the strength."
"Our bellies will take us there if the cars will do so. This is my main fear, that the cars will exhaust their energy."
Korba and the others looked askance at the long black shapes. "Let us move on," said one of the men. "At least we shall see the other side of the hills, and by luck Korba may have the accurate prediction."
"I hope so too," said Etzwane. "Still, be prepared for disappointment."
The column proceeded across an undulating black carpet of moss. Nowhere was there evidence of life; no motion, no ruined dwelling, no ancient post or cairn.
A brief storm struck down upon them; black clouds boiled low; a sudden wind came roaring out of the west… In half an hour the storm had passed, leaving the air clearer than before. The shadow to the south was clearly a mountain of considerable mass.
Close upon the end of day the column breasted the ridge to look out over the panorama. As far as the eye could reach appeared empty black moor.