Merdon was silent for a moment. Then, looking straight into the Watchman’s eyes, he said, “I’ve been terribly wrong about a lot of things, but most of all about you, I’m going to tell my people to follow your orders. I’ll stay behind—unless you—unless you’re willing to have me fight alongside you.”
Vorgens said nothing, but put his hand out toward Merdon. The Shinarian smiled broadly, and took the Watchman’s hand in .a firm grasp. Then they went down, side by side, to the waiting people.
Clanthas was sitting out on the veranda again, watching the sun go down. For the first time in his life, he felt fear at the approach of night. Somewhere off in the rolling countryside, he knew, a column of Komani warriors was advancing on his city.
A Terran jet flew overhead, its engines barely audible at the great altitude it held, its contrail of “frozen lightning” picking up the reddish glow of the dying sun. There was no airfield at Katan. The busy port city depended on groundcars and the huge, ocean-spanning transports that skimmed over land and sea with equalase.
That was a Terran jet overhead. Strangely, it seemed to comfort the merchant. The Terrans were active. They were coming to the aid of KatanBut would they come soon enough? That was the question.
XVIII
The Race to Katan
Through the long night the people of Katan prepared for the oncoming Komani. The arsenal was opened and every citizen—male or female—old enough and strong enough to handle a weapon was issued one. The city’s lights burned all night long as, building by building, block by block, people huddled together to make plans, to pick the best windows and rooftops to mount guns, to pray.