A Circus of Hells by Poul Anderson. Part two

don’t care to waste charge. Used too bloody much in that last encounter.

Another fracas, and we could be weaponless.” Flandry started off on a

slant across the square. “We’ll avoid him and go catercorner past the

domain of that comparatively mild-looking chap there.”

Djana’s gaze followed his finger. Remotely gleamed other immobile forms,

including a duplicate of the hippoid and three of the anthropoid.

Doubtless more were hidden by irregularities of terrain or its steep

fall to the horizon. The machine which Flandry had in mind was closer,

just left of his intended path. It was another cylinder, more tall and

slim than the robot with the ‘hammers. The smooth bright surface was

unbroken by limbs. The conical head was partly split down the middle,

above an array of instruments.

“He may simply be a watcher,” Flandry theorized.

They had passed by, the gaunt abstract statue was falling behind, when

Djana yelled.

Flandry spun about. The thing had left its square and was entering the

one they were now in.

Dust and sparkling ice crystals whirled in the meter of space between

its base and the ground. Air cushion drive, beat through Flandry. He

looked frantically around for shelter. Nothing. This square held only

basalt and frozen water.

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