“It will be locked because Urthona wouldn’t take any chances,” she said. “Anyway, by the time we could make a rope, the palace would be far ahead of us. We might even lose track of it.”
“You’re right,” he said. He turned to the door and beat on it with his fists. Inside was a huge room with a large fountain in its center. A marble triton blew water from the horn at its lips.
He stiffened, and said, “Oh, oh! Don’t move, Anana! Here comes someone!”
Anana froze. She was standing to one side, out of view of anyone in the room.
“It’s Red Ore! He’s seen me! It’s too late for me to duck! Get over the side of the balcony! There’re ornamentations you can hang onto! I don’t know what he’s going to do to me, but if he comes out here, you might be able to catch him unaware. I’ll have to be the sacrificial goat!”
Out of the corner of his eye he watched her slide over the railing and disappear. He stayed where he was, looking steadily at her uncle. Ore was dressed in a splendid outfit of some sparkling material, the calf-length pants very tight, the boots scarlet and with upturned toes, the jacket double-breasted and with flaring sleeves, the shirt ruffled and encrusted with jewels on the broad wing-tipped collar.
He was smiling, and he held a wicked-looking beamer in one hand.
He stopped for a moment just inside the doors. He moved to each side to get a full view of the balcony. His hand moved to the wall, apparently pressing a button. The doors slid straight upward into the wall.
He held the weapon steady, aiming at Kickaha’s chest.
“Where’s Anana?”
“She’s dead,” Kickaha said.
Ore smiled and pulled the trigger. Kickaha was knocked back across the balcony, driven hard into the railing. He lay half-sitting, more than half-stunned. Vaguely, he was aware of Ore stepping out onto the balcony and looking over the railing. The red-haired man leaned over it and said, “Come on up, Anana. I’m on to your game. But throw your knife away.”
A moment later she came slowly over the railing. Ore backed up into the doorway, the beamer directed at her. She looked at Kickaha and said, “Is he dead?”
“No, the beamer’s set for low-grade stun. I saw you two last night after the alarm went off. Your leblabbiy stud was foolish enough to hammer on the door. The sensors are very sensitive.”
Anana said, “So you just watched us. You wanted to know what we’d try?”
Ore smiled again. “Yes, I knew you could do nothing. But I enjoyed watching you trying to figure out something.”
He looked at the Horn strapped around her shoulder.
“I’ve finally got it. I can get out of here now.”
He pressed the trigger, and Anana fell back against the railing. Kickaha’s senses were by then almost full recovered, though he felt weak. But if Ore got within reach of his hands …
The Lord wasn’t going to do that. He stepped back, said something, and two robots came through the doorway. At first glance they looked like living human beings. But the dead eyes and the movements, not as graceful as beings of animal origin, showed that metal or plastic lay beneath the seeming skin. One removed Kickaha’s knife and threw it over the balcony railing. The other unstrapped the multiuse device from Anana’s wrist. Both got hold of the ankles of the two and dragged them inside. To one side stood a large hemisphere of thick criss-crossed wires on a platform with six wheels. The robot picked up Anana and shoved her through a small doorway in the cage. The second did the same to Kickaha. The door was shut, and the two were captives inside what looked like a huge mousetrap.
Ore bent down and reached under the cage. When he straightened up, he said, “I’ve just turned on the voltage. Don’t touch the wires. You won’t be killed, but you’ll be knocked out.”
He told the humanoid robots and the cage to follow him. Carrying the Horn which he had removed from Anana’s shoulder, he strode through the room toward a high-ceilinged wide corridor.