“Tan has already made his choice,” she said slowly.
“The debt is owed to all these. It is an old debt. Those of our blood started them on the road which they now travel. Our blood did ill here, and if we do not halt Tan, it shall do worse. Since we were responsible, these must have their chance. There is our old madness—and here is new life beginning. If we allow this war to break loose, we shall have to face a second failure for our kind. We must do what we can here and now.”
“You then accept the full consequences of what will happen?” Massa spoke solemnly like one giving a challenge to battle.
“I accept.”
“So be it.”
Under the guidance of Massa, who went through the storerooms of the Inborn (pausing sometimes with exclamations of one finding treasures until she was hurried on by Ayana), the lair defenders drew out many things they did not understand, placed those on carts which could be driven down into the lower levels.
They finally chose a single point, where the attackers must pass if they would reach the key entrance to Gammage’s territory, and there they erected the barricade. Massa crawled in and out laying wires, placing boxes, those she had brought from the ship, others from the stores.
Furtig saw none of this. Against his will he sat in Gammage’s headquarters, trying to keep his mind receptive to scout reports. Squatting on their heels be-fore him were two younglings selected for their swift running, ready to carry warning to those who set up the final line of defense.
Meanwhile, out of this section of the lairs in which Gammage’s people had so long sheltered, that tribe and the more recently joined kinsmen were moving not only their families and personal belongings, but load after load of the highly useful discoveries. For Massa had warned that when attack came, and if the counteraction she planned worked, there might even be an end to the buildings themselves.
Warriors, shaking, with weariness, started appearing from below, stopped to pick up and stagger on with some last loads of discoveries. At last came the final party of all, Gammage, Dolar, the two Demons, three of the People, and two Barkers.
“We go—“ Gammage staggered. He looked very thin and frail and old, as if all his years had fallen on him at once. Dolar was supporting him as he went.
“The Demon says this is a distance weapon, released by what she has in her hand—“
Furtig did not rise. “I cannot receive the alarm from below at any greater distance than this.” As he said that a hollow emptiness was in him as if he hungered—but not for food, rather for the hope of life. He had tested the limits of the mind-send—and had accepted the fact that he could not retreat with the rest, any more than could Foskatt or the young scout of Ku-La’s band, who were at their posts below.
“But—“ Ayana paused after that one word.
Slowly Dolar made an assenting tail sweep. “How long”—Furtig hoped his voice was reasonably steady, the proper tone for a warrior about to lead into battle—“must you know before you use this machine of yours?” He was using the interpreter and spoke directly to the Demon.
Ayana pulled at her wrist, loosening a band holding a round thing with black markings. One of those markings moved steadily.
“When this mark moves from here to here—that long do we have between alarm and when we use the weapon.”
She slipped the band off, gestured for Furtig to take it.
Furtig turned now to Gammage. “How long before the Demon war machines can reach the place of the trap after they are sighted coming forth?”
The Ancestor bit at claw tip and then went to look at the blocks which stood for the level ways. “If the war machines go no faster than rumblers, and if those we have put in place do hold them back for a space—“ He broke off as Liliha came running lightly across the chamber. In her hands was a wide dish of metal and in its center a cone. Furtig recognized it as what the Inborn used to measure time. Gammage took it and spanned the cone with two claws.
“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 him-self.
“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 Rations 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 Rations 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 scram-bled 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—under-ground—