Above, on a terrace at the top of the steps, flanked by his retinue of priests and seers, Ethendor stood with his arms extended expectantly . . . and grew more perplexed. Only moments before, the Voice had spoken in his mind again, promising that the time was imminent and that a Great Spirit would speak to Ethendor, confirming his place as the chosen prophet. But not only had the Great Spirit failed to appear; now Ethendor wasn’t getting any responses from the Voice, either.
“What ails the gods thus?” the Arch-Seer murmured, moving up closer behind him. “The current which thou drew still flows, but it has waned to a flicker.”
“I know not,” Ethendor replied. “Have the Examiner and his train returned yet to the city?”
Another of the priests conferred with a lesser priest, who turned to a messenger hovering behind an archway. “They are still awaited at the gates, 0 Holy One,” the priest relayed back.
No doubt that was it, Ethendor thought to himself. The gods would wait until all the dignitaries and the full complement of heretics for the atonement were present.
“We must await them,” Ethendor said. “Lead the people in more prayers and devotions. I shall return when the Voice speaks to me
again.” With that, he went back into the temple.
Eubeleus appeared at the side door of the control center with the aide who had gone to fetch him. He hurried over and took in the view from Geerbaine of the Shapieron drifting slowly over Shiban. “What are they doing in that ship?” he demanded, turning his eyes to Garuth, who was still standing with Langerif on the other screen.
In the PAC communications room, even with the hopelessness that had gripped him only moments before, Garuth felt a surge of exhilaration at the sight of his ship in motion and the message it brought that others were still doing something—although as to what it might be, he was as mystified as anyone else. He looked back to where Eubeleus was glaring out of the screen from Uttan. “You’ll see for yourself, soon enough,” he replied.
Ganymeans had double thumbs on each hand. Behind his back, Garuth crossed all four of them.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Smoke and dust poured into the corridor from the doorway leading through to the club’s main lounge. It sounded as if the place was being demolished. Forgetting about what might have happened to the hour or more of lost time, Hunt and Danchekker hurried with Murray back to the rear exit that the others had taken, which was the one by which they had entered on their way from the tower elevator. Fendro, the club manager, caught up with them as they began crossing the gallery up the stairs outside.
As the four of them approached the opening into the hail where the elevators were situated, they saw Gina and Nixie with Keshen, the engineer, hanging back around a corner. Shouting and the sounds of shots came from ahead. Hunt drew to a halt and peered past into the hall. One of the elevator doors was open, with several khena inside, exchanging fire with some police who were taking cover in a corridor opening in from the far side. One of the Ichena had fallen and was preventing the door from closing. To try crossing the open floor was out of the question.
Fendro yelled something at Murray and went back along the gallery, gesturing. “He says there’s another elevator that way,” Murray told the others. “Service shaft or something. Come on.” He waved Nixie and Gina on ahead, then followed with Danchekker and Keshen. Hunt waited a few seconds longer to check the situation in the hail. Somebody inside the elevator showed himself long enough to heave the body out onto the floor, was hit himself and hauled back inside by one of the others, and then the door closed. Hunt turned and ran after Keshen’s retreating figure.
The rest of the group was waiting for him outside an elevator in a narrow side passage. The car arrived just as he did, and they all crowded in. Fendro spoke an order in Jevienese, and they began ascending. Danchekker was flushed and panting, Hunt could see as he leaned against the rear wall of the car to get his own breath back. Gina was charged up with adrenaline and ready for anything. Murray was wearing a resigned, why-is-life-always-doing-something-like-this-to-me? look. Nixie seemed unperturbed and to be taking things calmly.