«Then we'd better hurry,» said Blade. «Pen-Jerg, you lead the way. That way it will look like you're part of the escort.»

With Pen-Jerg in the lead, they hurried back to the shafts. As they reached the master's shaft, the door hissed open, and four warriors in full gear strode out. Pen-Jerg fixed them with a cold stare.

«What are you doing wandering around at this hour?»

«We-I-«stammered one of the guards.

«If you can't explain why you're roaming the corridors at night like a cleaner from the Low People, I'll have to take your names.»

One of the other warriors found his voice at this threat. «We are inspecting the special guards ordered by Nris-Pol. Here is our permission.» He fumbled at the closure of his belt pouch.

«Never mind,» said Pen-Jerg briskly. «Pass on to your duties.» He led Blade and Kun-Rala into the shaft car, and the door hissed shut behind them. As it did, Pen-Jerg breathed a sigh of relief. «That was close. Now-pray to the Wisdoms, Blade, or whatever you English believe in. If they raise the alarm before we're out of this shaft…»

The car reached the balcony level before they heard a single sound from above. But just as they started out the door, a harsh rattling noise filled the car and the corridor both. The car door began to slide shut as Kun-Rala darted out, then it slammed shut on the trailing hem of her robe. Without losing step, she jerked the robe off and left it and her administering wand lying on the floor. Under it she wore her other belt with swords and the great wand, but nothing else except a pair of sandals. Neither Blade nor Pen-Jerg had the time or inclination to stare. Pen-Jerg turned toward the corridor to the balcony and broke into a pounding run, with Blade and Kun-Rala hard after him.

Blade was carrying more than sixty pounds on his back, but the adrenalin pouring into his system gave wings to his legs. He kept up with Pen-Jerg all the way to the door to the balcony. As Kun-Rala darted up, the warrior flung the door open and motioned Blade and the girl through.

«The alarm's up,» he said unnecessarily. «You know how to operate the lifters?»

Both nodded.

«Good. Get down into the Waste Land, and may the Wisdoms be with you.»

«What about you?»

«I'll be all right,» said Pen-Jerg. He drew both his swords and turned to face the corridor. «Now move!»

Blade and Kun-Rala both knew that Pen-Jerg was staying behind to face almost certain death, but both obeyed his final order. They dashed out on to the balcony and ran along it to the nearest cluster of lifters.

The lifters were normally operated by reel servants, mostly for reasons of pomp and ceremony-and also to degrade the Low People further. But the warriors of Melnon were not such utter idiots as to depend entirely on the reel servants. Each of the lifters was fitted with a full set of electronic controls that could be operated by the man on the lifter. In fact, once these controls were switched on, the reels above could no longer raise or lower the lifter. A handy feature for two people trying to escape from pursuers who sought their lives. But the lifter cords, tough as they were, could be cut. And Blade knew they would be cut if Nris-Pol's men got past Pen-Jerg.

As they reached the lifters, they heard the sound of feet running and voices raised in anger behind them. There was silence for a moment, in which Pen-Jerg's voice rose, high and angry. Blade could not make out the words, but he could not mistake the tone. And neither could he mistake the next sound-the clang of sword on sword. Pen-Jerg was starting his last fight, a fight for people who were determined to destroy the way of life the warrior had loved and served all his life.

There was no time to contemplate ironies, however. Blade's fingers flew over the controls of the lifter, setting them. Beside him Kun-Rala was doing the same, more clumsily. She had only learned the sequence from books.

But the clash of swords was still rising into the night when she finished. She stood beside Blade, staring down into the blackness below. There seemed to be nothing but night left in all the world, except the faint glows of the night-lights on the balconies of the other towers. Blade saw her shudder.

«Don't look down,» he said quickly.

She nodded, a faint jerk of her head on stiff neck muscles.

«Ready?» he asked.

Again she nodded. He wound both hands firmly into the straps, braced both feet on the bottom bar, watched her do the same.

«Let's go.» His thumb caressed the «lower away» switch, and with a faint hum the lifter began to slide down into the darkness.

As they passed below the edge of the balcony, the noise of the sword-fight rose to a crescendo. Blade wondered how many men had come against Pen-Jerg. It sounded like at least half a dozen. But the warrior was a good fighter. Perhaps he would beat them all off and make it to a lifter. Perhaps-

Blade's hopes died abruptly as a strong man's death-scream sounded in the darkness above them. It was followed by a thud and a scrabbling sound. Then a dim shape hurtled down past Blade, vanishing in a second into the darkness below. Another few seconds, and a faint thud floated up from below.

Blade had a momentary urge to send his dinner after Pen-Jerg. The warrior had chosen to hurl himself down to his death, rather than risk being nursed back to health and tortured by Nris-Pol. And Nris-Pol's men now roamed the balcony above without opposition. Did they have anything that could cut the lifter cords? Blade knew that an ordinary sword could not, but there were special cutting tools kept beside each lifter. How long would it take the men on the balcony to see the moving lifter reels, realize what was happening, and break out those tools? If they waited only another minute or two, he and Kun-Rala would be safe on the ground. Then they-

A bright orange flash in the darkness above. And suddenly Kun-Rala was no longer where she had been, a dim shape descending through the darkness beside him. Instead there was a white flicker below him-far below him-vanishing into the darkness. And another faint thud floating up from below.

Blade let out a yell of surprise and horror, and clutched the straps until his knuckles stood out white even in the darkness. He waited, expecting with every heartbeat and breath to suddenly plunge down after Kun-Rala. But the plunge did not come. Instead the cord kept running out, with its quiet whine, until suddenly his feet touched solid, stony ground.

Blade let go of the lifter at once, and the sudden loss of its support and the weight of his pack drove him to his knees. In that position, he finally did lose his dinner, and went on losing it for a long time.

When there was nothing more inside him, he rose to his feet and looked up. Dim figures were moving on the balcony, faintly silhouetted against the night-lights, and a distant buzz of voices floated down to Blade. He had to fight back a temptation to snatch one of the great wands from his pack, and hurl its deadly pulses upward at the balcony. But common sense overcame that first impulse. He stepped to the very base of the tower and flattened himself against the stone until the voices above died away.

Apparently Nris-Pol's men had not noticed that there were two lifters in use. And Blade's yell as he saw Kun-Rala fall had convinced the men who had cut her cord that they had finished off the only person escaping. It had saved Blade.

But it hadn't saved Kun-Rala, and Blade did not feel at all good about that. The girl would never have a chance to really learn to be a woman now. Nor would she ever be able to use her sharp wits to build a new Melnon. For the first time since he had arrived in this dimension, Blade felt a deep commitment to doing something about the rule of the Wisdom in Melnon. Two good people had died tonight helping to destroy it. Blade would like to see a few of the people like Nris-Pol die also.