Meanwhile, the others were streaming from the window. It was less than thirty feet across the street, and the first few men made it safely. Then a priest saw them from above, and began firing at the window.
Three men dropped, one after another.
"There's enough of us here!" Norvis called. "The rest of you go upstairs and help Ganz!"
Then he turned to the men around him. "We're going in this door," he said. "There are probably men behind it, but if the main doors are being assaulted as heavily as it sounds, there won't be very many. All of you aim your weapons at the door. When I push it open, wait for my signal, and then fire."
He reached into his vest and pulled the heavy pistol from his belt. There was only a small bolt on the door; the Temple hadn't been built with the expectation of an armed assault.
Norvis stared at the door. Once, many years ago, he had been taken through the Temple by a friend of his mother's, Yorgen peBor Yorgen, whose father's father had been the Elder Yorgen. Norvis had only been ten at the time, but for some reason the fact stuck in his mind that the bolt had been at Yorgen peBor's shoulder height.
He lifted the pistol, pressed it against the door, and pulled the trigger. The resulting explosion almost tore his arm off.
"Hoy!"
He had never tried that trick before, and he had no idea of what pent-up gases from exploding gunpowder could do. His hand was numb, and the pistol was ruined, but the door swung open of its own accord.
There were two acolytes in the narrow hallway. Waving his useless pistol, Norvis ordered harshly, "Shoot them!"
The acolytes had just enough time to look startled before bullets ripped into them. The small group of sailors moved on into the darkened hallway, heading toward the dungeons. At the front of the Temple, the frantic assault continued noisily.
Chapter XIX
In the blackness of his unlighted cell, Kris peKym Yorgen stood just beneath the air chimney that led to the roof of the temple, his head cocked to one side to catch the sounds that drifted down from above.
What in the Name of the Light was going on up there, anyway? An occasional crack! of rifle fire was recognizable, but the murmuring and rumble in the background was hard to make out.
A mob again? It didn't seem likely. With all that damning evidence marshaled against him and his guilt proven beyond doubt, it wasn't likely that any of the people would still be on his side. The people all knew he had framed the Earthmen; why would they help him now?
The idea that Norvis might be storming the Temple to rescue him seemed just a little fantastic, but it was the only explanation he could think of. If it were Norvis, he thought, then there wasn't much chance of a rescue. A surprise move might have done it, a quick lightning swoop—but it sounded as though the populace had been aroused, and, if so, the few remaining loyal members of the Party would not last long against their fury.
He cursed bitterly. If only he could get out of this cell!
He heard noises reverberating faintly through the bronze door, and whirled quickly. If there were someone coming to rescue him, the priests might think it wisest to kill him now, instead of waiting until morning.
He walked quickly to the door of the cell and felt around. The cell was just narrow enough for what he wanted to do. A shorter man might not be able to manage it, but Kris thought he could.
Bracing his feet against one wall and his shoulders against the other, he began working his way up the rough stone wall. Once he was above the door, he turned and put his back against the wall over the door, keeping his feet and shoulders against the side walls. He was ready for anyone who came in. Die he might, but at least one priest would go down with a broken neck.
The noises in the hall were faint, but they kept up. And still no one opened his door. What's going on? Kris wondered again. His shoulder and leg muscles were tiring rapidly. By the time he finally heard the bar of his door being lifted, he was so cramped that he was ready to drop.
The door swung outward. Then was a discordant burst of sound, as though there were many men in the hall, and a blaze of torchlight glittered in the room. Kris poised himself to leap.
"Kris?" a voice said. "Kris, are you in there?"
Kris said: "Marja!" Between the cramping of his muscles and the surprise of hearing her voice, he lost his brace against the walls, toppled outward, and collapsed in a heap at the girl's feet.
He stood up gingerly, grinning.
"I guess nothing's broken," he said, rubbing his leg. He glanced around at the group who had filed into his cell. "What's happened?"
She told him quickly. "And when we got down here, we couldn't find which cell you were in. We've re leased all the other men."
"Good going." He glanced at Norvis, who stood behind Marja holding a torch. "Let's get the men together and get out of here."
The news had been good-astonishing, even. So the Elder Grandfather was dead? Didn't that prove that the Great Light was on the side of Kris peKym Yorgen? He smiled.
"Up the stairs!" he yelled. The men followed him out of the dungeon level and upward. Just as they emerged on the top of the stairs, a tremendous crash echoed through the building, followed by the savage roar of a raging mob. The doors of the Temple were down!
"Out the back way!" Kris snapped. It was a good feeling to be in command of his men again. "That mob's blind. It would just as likely kill us as anyone!" He charged down the hall with over a hundred men at his heels. There was a priest in the hall, but at sight of them, he dropped his peych-knife and fled wildly.
There was no one firing from the roof as the men poured out the back door. Ganz peDel was at the window of the pottery shop.
"We were about to come in after you," he called. "The priests who aren't dead have deserted the roof and gone below!"
"Stand aside!" Kris called. "Open those shutters wider! We're coming through."
It took time for a hundred-odd men to get through the window, and more of Megil & peMegil's pottery went the way of all dishware, but it was no more than a few minutes before the operation was completed. Kris pulled the shutters closed and bolted them. "Up to the roof," he said. "Maybe we can see what's happening."
From the roof of the pottery shop, there was little to see at first. There were unmoving blue-and-yellow-clad figures lying scattered over the roof of the Temple, but there was no sign of life. They could see the far edge of the Square, but it was difficult to tell whether there was anyone moving in the flickering torchlight.
But the roaring screams of the frenzied mob still filled the air.
Suddenly, one of Kris' men shouted. "Look! Look at the lens!"
The great lens on the roof of the Temple was glowing with orange-red light.
"Torches," someone said.
Kris shook his head. "Torches? No! Those silly fools are burning the Temple!"
It was true. The glow beneath the lens became brighter, and the howl of the mob changed in pitch and character as they ran out of the building, trampling their way back over the fallen front door. Soon the Square of Holy Light was filled with fleeing people.
Kris felt the way he had felt when the School had burned—helpless. But it was worse this time. He had not wanted to fire the Great Temple —no, not the Temple.
"The lens! The lens! Look at it!" Kris realized it was his own voice shouting.
A black fissure was moving across the huge lens, spreading rapidly, flawing its perfection. Then another and another appeared. The cooling rain dropping on it from above was competing with the hellish fire beneath.