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He felt his way around cloud-rug couches.
He brushed a solid wall. Off course. He couldn't hear Gording or anything else. Were there Boys in the dark, stalking him as Gording stalked them? Was Gording already dead? Corbell was moving too fast, stumbling. Only the very oldest Boys would know the layout of this place; but they wouldn't need to. They'd follow him by his breathing.
He had found the doors.
"Gording!"
Light flashed for an instant at the far end. Where had that come from? Gording called, "All right."
Corbell waited in the dark and the quiet. Presently Gording spoke next to him-"Here!" -felt for Corbell's hand and put something heavy in it. "I robbed the loner. Take his sword. I took his fire starter too. Where is the picture of the world?"
"Along-" Corbell guided Gording's hand "-that wall."
The flashlight beam revealed two polar projections with the ice caps still showing. There were no glowing lights or numbers to mark the routes.
Gording asked, "Which is our door?"
"I don't know."
"The Boys have our tchiple. We can't surrender because we've killed the loner. The Boys may have a way to shut down the prilatsil. Do something, Corbell."
"All right. Give me the name coin." He took it, inserted it in the ticket window. Nothing happened.
He tried the next door. Nothing. He was begi
"Now we sit here for awhile."
"Al! right."
"I don't know how you can be so calm."
"I risk less than you do. Half a Jupiter year-" he had borrowed Corbell's phrase "-and I'll be dead. Against this I balance dikta immortality and freedom from the Boy rule. Unless... Corbel, can we find dikta immortality where we're going? Or will we have to make constant raids on Antarctica?"
"I know it's in Four City. Maybe it's in other places, too."
"The risk is good. Shall we sleep?"
Corbell's laugh was shaky. "Good luck."
V
Gording woke when the door went up. The car slid into the vacuum tu
Gording, watching his face, relaxed. "I did not want to ask. Where are we going?"
"It doesn't matter. Anywhere there's a... picture of the world that lights up. That'll tell us how to get to Four City."
"A good decision," said Gording, and he went back to sleep.
Maybe he was faking.
But his breathing was very gentle and regular.
Corbell stretched out. He wedged his ankles under a chair arm. There was no sound but Gording's breathing.
Corbell dozed. He twitched and jerked in his sleep: ru
The car stopped.
Doors popped open automatically. Air puffed across them, hot and wet, like boiling maple syrup in the throat. Corbell cried, "Come on!" and went through.
The great hall was a ruin. Six or seven stories of the great cube had fallen in, leaving a cross section of whatever was up there; Corbell didn't care. He kept his breathing shallow. The scalding air was thick with a taste and smell half chemical, half mildew. Sweat sprang out in droplets all over his body.
The wall map was cracked across, and dark.
He tried his credit disk in three doors before he found one that worked. Gording pulled at his arm and spoke like a man holding his breath. "Wait! Where does this go?"
"Come on."
They entered the subway car. It didn't help. You can die locked in a steam room, Corbell thought. He stretched out on the row of seats. "Mirelly-Lyra rigged the subway system to take anyone from the hot part of the world straight to her. We can hope she didn't skip this terminal. Lie still and don't try to exercise. Breathe shallow."
He lay on his back and waited. The sweat tickled as it ran down his ribs, but he didn't wipe at it.
Something ticked on. Air blew across him, too warm, and then cooling. Corbell sighed. "The CO2 must have triggered something," he told himself. The air grew cool, cool.
A long time later Gording said, "I left the fire starter."
"Damn."
Silence then, until the door went up.
There were the usual surges, then the ride straightened out. Corbell tried to sleep again, but something was holding him back. He didn't know what it was until Gording said, "My ears hurt."
That was it. "The car leaks," said Corbell. "Just a chance we had to take. Let's hope we've got enough air to get to the end."
"It hurts. Can I do anything?"
Hey, Gording had never been in an airplane! Corbell said, "Work your jaws." He demonstrated. His ears popped.
The car slowed. It had come sooner than Corbell had expected; but they were both panting, and Gording was uneasy. Corbell felt guilty satisfaction. It took a lot of unknown danger to disturb Gording.
He covered his ears with his hands and opened his jaws wide, and waited for Gording to do the same. His skin was clammy. He was unbearably tense.
The doors popped open. The air that slapped across them was only warm. Through the door he saw lights dim at the back, cloud-rug humping into couches. He reached for the loner's broad-bladed scimitar.
Motion flickered in the gate. Corbell's brain flashed: Mirelly-Lyra! Too soon! He pulled the car door shut as something darted through the gate. He had what she wanted-they could negotiate.
It was Krayhayft! The gray-haired Boy stopped short. He looked at them through the glass.
He raised the fire starter.
Gording threw himself back toward the inadequate protection of the toilet. Corbell sensed it; but he himself was frozen.
Krayhayft fired past him. Light blazed behind Corbel, and he smelled chemical smoke as part of the couch burned. Krayhayft shouted, "Come out. Or I'll burn off your feet."
Corbel's hand was still on the door. But... "I can't do it. You'd chop down the Tree of Life."
For an instant Krayhayft was puzzled. Then, "That's not what we want. We only want to know where it is. Corbel, suppose a disaster wiped out most of the dikta, and the only survivors were half a dozen old ones? We could keep them young and breeding."
"Meanwhile they never get a smell of it."
Flame burst from the rug beside Corbell's right foot. Krayhayft said, "We need your pressure-suit helmet too. Speaking of disasters-" Krayhayft stopped. His face changed.
Corbell had never seen that look on any Boy. It frightened him. Guilt and remorse and fear. Krayhayft moaned, the sound faint through the glass. His eyes darted left and right, seeking... escape?
He found it. Brighter than human, he found it at once, and used it. Krayhayft raised the fire starter to his head and fired. Flame burst from that side of his head, then from the other. Krayhayft fell, and kicked spasmodically, and lay still.
Corbell spared himself one flicking glance back. Gording was still hidden, crouched behind the toilet door.
Then Mirelly-Lyra Zeelashisthar stepped through the gate. Shapeless robe, white touched with iridescence, and a withered face within: The bright eyes fixed on him, and then the cane.
"Mirelly-Lyra! It's me!"
The shock almost killed her. He hoped she would faint. She recovered; she gestured peremptorily with the cane. Come out!
He reached for the scimitar. She gave him just a touch of what had killed Krayhayft. Moaning, he came through.