She had meant it to slip out but the look on his face filled her with sudden terror. She had only meant to let him know of her importance, something of her place in the scheme of things; now she wished she had not spoken.

Blade's eyes were agate hard on hers. He smiled a bit. But all he said was, «I might have known. You spy for the orb people. They have no doubt promised you vast rewards when the time comes. Good. I do not care. I hope you live to enjoy them. Now, let us go to the source of the power. My patience is short.»

Sart was on his feet in the kitchen. He had a can of intoxicant in his hand. Nearby was a pile of empties. He gave Blade a dubious grin and hiccoughed, then doubled over in pain. Sybelline stared in distaste. There was nothing worse than a drunken Gnoman.

Blade scattered the cans with a kick. «So you are not yet dead?» he asked Sart. «Good. It is possible that I will be the one to kill you after all, if you disobey me in any small matter. Come.»

Sybelline led them up winding stairs to the roof. For miles the rooftops stretched, an unbroken plain. There was no end to them or to the city. The silence shrouded them. The Moon swung its gigantic orb nearby and Blade studied it for a moment, watching the activity on it. He still feared it. If he were fortunate, he thought, he would get the secret of the power and be gone from Dimension X before the Selenes got into the act. Jantor was trouble enough, or would be when he caught up with them.

The three fled over the roofs. They passed high over squares, with the plastic parks and the thousands of sleepers.

When Sart complained and began to lag behind, Blade seized him in an iron grip, hustling him along. His own wounds were hurting and he was weary. He longed for food and a bath, for rest and treatment of his hurts, but all that would have to wait. They would have been spotted by now, by both the Selenes and the Gnomen. Every second counted. He had his orders straight from the old Lord himself-find the power.

They came to another park. In the center of it stood a circular building. A narrow catwalk connected the circular building with the apartment building on which they now stood.

Sybelline pointed to the catwalk. «We must cross that. There is a hatchway in the top of that building.» She pointed to the circular structure. «Then we go underground. Below the five mile level. It will not be easy to come back up, Blade. There is no power for the lift unless you wish me to turn it on. If I do that the Morphi will awaken.»

Blade was pondering, trying to claw some of the caked blood out of his beard. He itched all over. He watched a kiosk in the plastic park and saw movement. Gnomen. They were spotted, right enough, and the Gnomen scouts were keeping pace with them through the sewers. Jantor knew exactly where they were.

Sart moaned at the mention of going underground. Blade told him to be silent. He looked at Sybelline. The trip had told on her. Her white hair straggled, and she breathed hard.

Blade said: «We may have to activate the Morphi. I have not yet decided. But one thing I know. The Gnomen have found us and we had better hurry.» He pointed to the kiosk in the park. A dozen Gnomen soldiers had left it and one was pointing at them with his spear bar. The three of them were in clear silhouette against the curdled-buttermilk sky.

He gave the protesting Sart a push onto the catwalk. «Go first. Hurry.»

Sart was a sewer rat and was unfamiliar with high places. He was terrified. He inched along until Blade prodded him with the sharp end of his spear bar. «Get along faster or I will put this through your guts.» He meant it and Sart knew he meant it.

Blade held one of Sybelline's mists in a tight grip. He was taking no chances of losing her. But she came along docilely enough and, in fact, enjoyed his touch.

The Gnomen scouting party left the park and ran beneath the catwalk, shaking their spear bars and yowling insults. Sart would have hurled his bar down at them, but Blade prodded him on and said, «Keep it. You're going to need it.»

They reached the roof of the circular building. Blade watched the Gnomen below. They were battering at a door, trying to gain entrance. There was something strange about this, and suddenly it ticked over in his mind. It was the first locked door he had encountered in the city.

Sybelline led them to a hatchway in the center of the roof. It was bolted down. As she knelt to unfasten the bolts, Blade asked, «What is this place?»

She cast him a sly look. «The place of government. The Morphi councils, all those in power and who have responsibility for running the city, they meet here.»

Blade had an idea. He grinned at her. «And they now sleep here, is that it? The power was turned off while they were all here in consultation, discharging their civic duties? It was planned that way?»

Sybelline nodded. «It was. By order of the Selenes. I carried out the orders.»

Blade was not surprised. «I should have known»

«You know now. You see that I hold nothing back. I have cast my lot with yours. If we win, I will expect reward; if we fail, I will die with you.»

«Later,» he said. «All that later. Get this thing open.»

She lacked strength to draw the last bolt. Blade slammed it back with his spear bar. He threw open the hatch and stared into a shiny plastic hole. He turned on the woman. «What is this? You play tricks?»

It was a plastic tube, a chute similar to that used in Home Dimension for escape from aircraft. It was sleek and shiny and plunged into darkness at a 45-degree angle.

Sybelline smiled. «It is simple. A chute to the lower levels. Are you afraid, Blade?»

Sart was afraid. He stared at the gaping maw of the chute and wiped away sweat.

Blade said: «I am not afraid. But I am not a fool. You said the five mile level-in this thing? It will be like a free fall. Our speed-«

«I will go first,» said Sybelline. «Hurry. Fear nothing. There are braking fingers near the bottom and the landing will be soft and easy. Would I do it else?»

There was a crash from below as the door was battered in. The Gnomen would be on them in a few minutes. Jantor had made a decision. He was coming out of the sewers to fight. He was daring everything to come up into the city, to brave the orbfolk, in an effort to smash Blade and find the secret of the power for himself.

Sybelline was at the edge of the chute. Blade said, «Will they dare follow us down?»

She laughed. «Not the Gnomen. They all have courage and Jantor is cunning, even intelligent, but they will not risk the chute. We had better go now.»

Blade nodded. «Go then.»

Sybelline gathered her plastic skirt about her and gave a little leap. She landed on her bottom and flung her body backward with her arms trailing. As she disappeared she called out, «Slide in this manner. It is easier.»

She was gone. Blade crooked a finger at Sart. «You.»

Sart hung back. He began to whimper.

«Hold fast to your spear bar,» said Blade. He picked the slave up and hurled him head first into the chute. «Wrong end first,» he told the disappearing Sart, «but in your case no great matter.»

There was another trap door nearby. Sounds of battering came from beneath it. Blade stalked to it and pounded with his spear bar. «Gnomen! Listen to me. This is Blade who speaks.»

The noises ceased. A Gnoman voice growled in reply. «We know you, man Blade. What do you want?»

Blade glanced at the chute twenty paces away. He had plenty of time. «A parley,» he told them. «I would send a message to Jantor.»

Harsh laughter. The same voice said, «Who are you to ask for a parley? You who are as good as dead or in the pits. But I say this-surrender and come with us to Jantor and we will not harm you.»

Blade smiled to himself and said, «I do not like the sound of your invitation. But I would have a parley with Jantor later on. Answer me this-does he know of the child Alixe?»