The Iron Breed (55 page)

“Light this at your first warning. Let it burn as far as I have marked it—then give us your signal.”

So at both ends there was a small length of time—time for Foskatt and the scout below—time for himself.

“These go with you.” Furtig pointed to his messengers. He caught up the covering on the divan, ripped it apart, and went to a window.

“See, when the scouts' signal comes that they move out below, and this burns to the line—I shall fire this with the lightning thrower. It will blaze in the window, and you, seeing it, can set off your weapon.”

He hoped it would work. At least the arrangement gave him a small chance. The others left, taking the last of the bundles with them. If Massa was right—how much of the lairs would be lost? But better lose all than their lives and have the Demon and Rattons rule.

Furtig went back to the divan and sat down. Now he must concentrate on the messages. His skin itched as if small bugs crawled over his body. He licked his lips, found that now and then his hands jerked. With all his might he strove to control his body, to think only of Foskatt and the other scout—think—and wait.

It had been two days since the Demons had agreed to aid them. What had the Rattons and the other Demon been doing all that time? Putting machines to work—? All the pictures the hidden scout had taken were essentially the same. Apparently some machines had been discarded—others chosen—

How much longer—a night, another day? The longer the better as far as the rest of the People and their allies were concerned. They would be on the move away, back from this whole section of lair which was now a trap. Only the Demons and the war leaders would stay with the power broadcaster.

Periodically Furtig contacted the scouts. Each time the report was the same—no sign of any attack. Night came. Furtig ate and drank, walked up and down to keep mind and body alert.

He had returned to the divan when the long-awaited signal came—from Foskatt.

Instantly Furtig ordered the other scout to withdraw, then touched the cone on the plate with a drop of liquid. There was a burst of blue flame, followed by a steady burning. Furtig drew the lightning weapon, hurried to the doorway, his attention divided between the cone and the bundle of stuff in the window.

Longer than he had thought! Had he mistaken the markings Gammage had made on the cone? He held the dish—no, there was the line clear to be seen. Now he looked at that other measure which Ayana had given him, ready to depend upon it when the dish light marked the time.

Now!

Furtig hurled the dish from him, aimed at the bundle in the window, pressed the firing button. A long shaft of lightning crossed the chamber. His aim had been good, striking full upon the bundle. There was flame there which certainly the watchers in the next building could not mistake.

He was already through the door, running at top pace down the corridor, coming out on one of the bridges lacing building to building. And he kept on, intent only on trying to put distance between him and the place he had just quitted. Another corridor, one of those shafts for descent. Not daring to wonder if it worked, Furtig leaped into it as he might into a pool of water.

Then he floated down, his heart pounding. The tremor came. And that almost caused his death, for the soft pressure which supported him failed. It was only that it strengthened again for a moment that saved him, gave him a chance to catch at a level opening.

He was swinging by his hands and somehow scrambled up and through. There came another tremor. The building about him shook. Furtig ran, wanting only to gain the open. The rest of his flight was a nightmare. He kept picturing the whole of the lairs about to crash down on him.

Only when he reached the open did he turn to look back. There was a change. It took him several half-dazed moments to realize that the outline of at least one tower against the sky was now missing. All the buildings were now dark, no lights showing.

Liliha, Gammage, the Demons, the party who had remained to set off the trap—

Furtig, his panic gone, turned around. He dared not trust the interior of the lairs now. In fact the conviction was growing in him that, knowledge or no knowledge, he was through with the lairs. But he must know if the others had escaped. And Foskatt—underground—

He could not search the lairs—Why had he not thought straight? Furtig hunkered down on the ground, began to use his own talent.

Liliha! It was like looking into her face and she—she felt his questioning—understood! Foskatt—Furtig began again—but perhaps they were too far separated. He hoped that was the answer when he could not raise the other.

* * *

Morning came and they stood on the edge of the site where the sky-ship pointed up and out. Foskatt and the other scout were still missing. They were all there but one—and without that one—

“He was very old.” Ayana's eyes held a tiredness in them as if she needed to rest a long, long time. “And he was weaker than he let you know. He must have been. When the explosion came”—she raised her hand and let it fall with a small guttering gesture as if she tried their sign language—“then he went.”

Gammage, the Ancestor, the one who had always been—a living legend. A world without Gammage? But now Ayana spoke again.

“In a way he was wrong. He wanted you to be stronger, more intelligent with every generation. He wanted you to, as he thought, be like us. So he sought out our knowledge for you. He did it, wanting the best for his people. But in a way he gave them the worst. He wanted you to have all we once had—but that was not the answer. You know what happened here to us. Our knowledge killed, or drove us out.

“You have your own ways, learn through them. It will be slower, longer, harder, but do it. Do not try to change what lies about you; learn to live within its pattern, be a true part of it. I do not know if you understand me. But do not follow us into the same errors.

“One thing Gammage did for you which is right and which you must save more than you save anything you have taken from the lairs: He taught you that against a common enemy you can speak with Barkers under a truce flag, gather and unite tribes and clans. Remember that above all else, for if he had only done that much, Gammage would be the greatest of your race.

“But do not try to live as we. Learn by your own mistakes, not ours. This world is now yours.”

“And the Demons?” Dolar growled into the interpreter. He moved very slowly, as if with Gammage's death some of the other's great age had also settled upon him.

“We shall not come again. This is no longer our world. We have found in the lairs the knowledge which will perhaps save us on our new home. And our people will accept that, after hearing what we have to say. Or if they do not accept—” She looked over their heads to the lairs. “Be sure in my promise—we shall not come again!”

Even, she thought, if we have to—to make sure that the ship does not return to Elhorn. This promise must be kept. She did not look back to the People as she drew herself wearily up the ramp. If matters had been different, if the old madness had not gripped them—if Tan—resolutely she closed her mind to that. But if the madness had not struck in the beginning perhaps the People would not have existed either. Did ill balance good somehow? Now she was too tired, too drained to think.

* * *

Those on the field scattered back to the lairs. There were warriors questing about the ruins, hunting signs of Rattons, but so far none had been sighted. They had, though, brought back a dazed Foskatt, who had been struck on the head and was now closely tended by Eu-La. The other scout was still being sought.

Furtig and Liliha stood together, watching fire sprout around the sky-ship. They hid their eyes then against the glare as it rose, pointing out. The Demon had promised—no return.

But the other things she had said—that Gammage had been wrong, that they must find their own kind of knowledge—How much of that was truth? They would have time now to discover.

“They have gone,” Liliha said. “To the stars—where someday, warrior, we shall follow. But before then, there is much to be done—even if we are no longer Gammage's people.”

He would follow her willingly, even back into the lairs. Furtig had a feeling that henceforth wherever Liliha light footedly trod he would follow. No—not follow—for she was waiting for him to walk beside her. He purred softly, and his tail tip curved up in warm content.