They dropped on it. Then Kartr whirled, his blaster out—aimed for the middle of the black thing scuttling toward him from the roof shadows. He tried in the same instant for mind contact—to recoil with an instant of real panic. And Rolth put his discovery into words.
“Robot—guard—maybe—”
Kartr was back in the sled as Rolth brought it up above the head of the figure.
Robot, guard or attendant, the thing stopped short when the sled left the stage surface. As they went on up it turned squarely and trundled away into the dark. Kartr relaxed. The metal guardian could have beamed them both before they had even had a chance to sight it. Of course, it might only have been an attendant—but there was no sense in taking the risk.
“No more landing stages,” he said and Rolth agreed with him fervently.
“Those creatures might be conditioned to a voice or a key word—give them the wrong answer and they take you apart quick—”
“Wait a minute.” Kartr put his blaster back in its holster. “We’re judging this city by what we know of our own civilization.” He squinted against the brilliance of a wave of green light and recited the instructions of their manual, “There is always something new for the finder, go out with an open mind—”
“And,” Rolth added, “a ready blaster! Yes, I know all that. But human nature remains the same and I’d rather be wary than dead. Look down there—see those squares of pavement between the buildings? How about setting down on one of those? No landing stage alarms or controls we could trigger—”
“Promising. Can you get in behind that big block? Its shadow should hide us well—”
Rolth might not get as much speed out of the sled as Fylh did, but his caution on such a mission as this was more to be desired than the Trystian’s reckless disregard for the laws of gravity. Earthing required of him a good five minutes of painful maneuvering, but he brought them down in the middle of the pool of shadow Kartr had indicated.
They did not stir from their seats at once, but sat watching for robots, for any moving thing which might promise menace.
“A city”—Rolth stated the obvious—“is not the place to play hide and seek in. I’m sure that I’m being watched—maybe from up there—” He jerked a thumb at the lines of blank windows overlooking the court in which they had landed.
That eerie sensation—that myriad eyes were peering hostilely from the blank expanses—Kartr knew it too. But his sense told him it was a lie.
“Nothing lives here,” he assured the Faltharian. “Not even a robot.”
They moved away from the sled, skirting the side of the nearest building, staying in the shadows, racing across lighted open spaces. Rolth ran his fingers along the wall at his shoulder. “Old, very old. I can feel the scars of erosion.”
“But the lights? How long could those keep running?” wondered Kartr.
“Ask your friend from Agerat. Maybe he put them in working order when he arrived. Who knows?”
There was little ornamentation on the buildings they passed, the walls were smoothly functional, yet the very way the towers and blocks were fitted into a harmonious whole argued that they were the product of a civilization so advanced in architecture as to present a city as a unit, instead of a collection of buildings and dwellings of individual tastes and periods. So far Kartr had seen no inscriptions on any of the structures.
Rolth’s blue torch flashed on and off regularly as they went, pin-dotting their trail through this new kind of wilderness. When they wanted to retrace their way he need only touch his light again on these walls and the tiny blue circles would glow in return for a second.
The rangers made a half circle around one of the three buildings hedging in the court and crept along a street into the surface of which their feet sank almost ankle deep. The old pavement was covered with a thick growth of short tough grass. Half a block ahead, from a recess between two buildings, a rainbow of light played. They approached it cautiously—to come upon a fountain, a fountain of plumed light as well as tinkling water. The flood it raised sank back into a round basin, the rim of which was broken on the side near them so that a small stream was free to cut a channel through the sod until it reached a hole in the ancient pavement.
“No one around,” Kartr whispered. Why he whispered he could not have explained. But the feeling of being watched, of being followed, persisted. Beneath the shadow of these dead towers he felt it necessary to creep and crawl silently—unless he awaken—what?
They dared to leave the protection of the dark and come out to the edge of the fountain. Now, through the spray of water and light, they could see its center column. There was a statue on it—more than life size, unless the builders of the city had been giants. It was not of any stone they could recognize but some white, gleaming stuff upon which time had left no marks. And, at the full sight of it, both Kartr and Rolth stopped almost in midstride.
The figure was a girl, her arms above her head, with a mane of unbound hair flowing free below her slender waist. In her upheld hands she grasped a symbol they both knew—a star of five points. And it was from the tips of those points that the water gushed. But the girl—she was no Bemmy—she was as human as they.
“It’s Ionate—the Spirit of the Spring Rain—” Kartr reached far into his mind and drew forth a legend of his blasted home.
“No—it’s Xyti of the Frosts!” Rolth had memories, too, stemming from his own dusky world of cold and shadow.
For a second they stared at each other almost angrily and then both smiled.
“She is both—and neither—” Rolth suggested. “These men had their spirits of beauty, too. But it is plain by her eyes and hair she is not of Falthar. And by her ears—she is no kin of yours—”
“But why—” Kartr stared at the fountain in puzzlement. “Why does she seem as if I have known her always? And that star—”
“A common symbol—you have seen it a hundred times on a hundred different worlds. No, it is as I have said. She is the ideal of beauty and so we see her, even as he who fashioned her dreamed her into being.”
They left the court of the fountain reluctantly and came into a wide avenue which stretched its green length straight toward the center of the city. Now and again colored lights formed untranslatable signs in the air or across the fronts of the buildings. They passed by what must have been shops and saw the cobwebs of ancient wares spread inside the windows. Then Kartr caught Rolth’s arm and pulled him quickly into the shelter of a doorway.
“Robot!” The sergeant’s lips were close to his companion’s ear. “I think it is patrolling!”
“Can we circuit it?”
“Depends upon its type.”
They had only their past experience to guide them. Robot patrols, they knew, were deadly danger. Those they had seen elsewhere could not be turned from duty except by the delicate and dangerous act of short-circuiting their controls. Otherwise the robot would either blast without question anything or anyone not natural to that place—or who could not answer it with the prescribed code. It was what the rangers had feared on the landing stage, and it would be even worse to face it now when they had no sled for a quick getaway.
“It will depend upon whether this is a native or—”
“Or introduced by the Ageratan?” Rolth interrupted. “Yes, if he brought it, we know how to handle it. A native—”
He stopped whispering at the faint sound of metal clinking against stone. Kartr straightened and flashed his torch above their heads. The doorway in which they crouched was not too high and a small projection overhung it. Just over that was the dark break of a window. Seeing that he began to plan.
“Inside—” he said to Rolth. “Try to reach the second floor and get out of that window upon the ledge. Then I’ll attract the robot’s attention and you can burn its brain case from above—”
Rolth was gone, slipping into the darkness which was no barrier to him. Kartr leaned against the side of the doorway. It would be a race, he thought, with a little sick twinge in the pit of his stomach. If the robot got here before Rolth reached that ledge—! If he, Kartr, couldn’t manage to avoid the first attack of the patroller—! Luckily he didn’t have too long to wait and catalogue all those dismal possibilities.
He could see the patroller now. It was at the far end of the block. The flashing lights on the buildings played across its metal body. But the sergeant was almost sure that it was unlike the ones known to galactic cities. The rounded dome of the head casing, the spider-like slenderness of the limbs, the almost graceful smoothness of its progress, were akin more to the architecture of this place.