anything except lifting his legs and setting one foot down
ahead of the other. When the angle of the dune rising in
their wake became sharper than forty-five degrees the sand
would be rushing at them so rapidly they would be hard
put to keep free of its grasp.
All around them, in both directions as far as they could
see, the desert was climbing for the stars. He could only
wonder at the cause. The Conjunction, the pack rat had
said. The moon was up now, reaching silvery tendrils
toward the panting, desperate refugees. At moonrise, the
rat told him. But when would the critical moment come?
Now, in minutes, or at midnight? How much time did they
have left?
Then Roseroar was shouting, and a cluster of hills
became visible ahead of them. As they ran on, the outlines
of the hills sharpened, grew regular and familiar: Redrock,
so named for the red sandstone of which its multistoried
towers and buildings had been constructed. In the first
moonlight and the last rays of the sun the city looked as if
it were on fire.
Now they found themselves among other stragglers—
some on foot, others living in free association with camels
and burros. Some snapped frantic whips over the heads of
dray lizards.
Several ostrich families raced past, heavy backpacks
THE DAY OF THE DISSONANCE
215
strapped to their useless wings. They carried no passen-
gers. Nor did the family of cougars that came loping in
from the north, running on hind legs like Roseroar. Bleating
and barking, honking and complaining, these streams of
divergent life came together in pushing, shoving lines that