orward and spun,
rising to his full height again. One of the bulbous brutes had touched
the side of his head, its energy aura so strong at that close contact
that the hair was burned to a char and the flesh scorched.

So they could really hurt a man! He grinned with pain and defiance. If
his pick wasn't as fast as any damned floating ball, let them kill him!
He waited, crouched, keeping his eyes on them; and then they were rising
again, leaving him there in the valley with a screaming girl in a silver
gown.

* * * * *

Jerran, who had just started his own rest space, evidently, appeared on
the rock shelf and came down, walking faster than Revel had ever seen
him go. The little man came to him and, hardly glancing at Lady Nirea,
said, "Were you attacked, lad?"

"I did the attacking, when they objected to my touching this wench."

Jerran gazed up. "They're spreading out. The gentry will soon be on you,
Revel. You've got to hide."

"Where can you hide from a god?" It wasn't a hopeless tone he used, but
a kind of laughing, bantering acceptance of his doom.

"Come off it," said Jerran urgently. "You're still thinking like a
rucker."

"I am of the ruck."

"You're a rebel now, you fool! Think like one! Listen: _a man cannot
kill a god_."

"The Globate Credo," grunted Revel. "_Our Orbs are everlasting,
untouchable._ Crud! I've killed four today."

"Right. So stop fearing them and thinking they're omnipotent. _Our Orbs
see all we do._ More crud, lad! They're telepathic, adept at hypnosis,
but rock stops 'em. Get rock above you and you are safe for a while,
till I can think this over and get you some help."

"The mine!" Revel barked; to his madness, his exhilaration, was added
hope. "The secret cave, Jerran!"

"And of course," said Jerran wryly, "you have to take the woman."

Revel's jaw dropped. "Why?"

"You idiot, she just heard you say about six words too many. She'd lead
her father's pack straight to us!" Jerran evidently knew the Lady Nirea
by sight. "She knows our names, too. It's either take her or kill her."
His flinty eyes creased up. "Better kill her, at that. Less danger."

Revel looked at her. The talk of murder didn't turn a hair of that
flawlessly-wrought coiffure: she was either too sure of the gentry's
power, or too stunned by the gods' death, to be consciously frightened.

She was not stunned, for now she said, "You rabbit-brains, you filthy
grubbers, you must