logiston layer. Slowly, agonizingly, it picked up speed and began its
downward rush. Unlike the sky, it seemed to obey the normal laws of
inertia Hanson had known. It swelled bit by bit, raging as it drew
nearer. And it seemed to be heading straight for the pyramid.

The heat was already rising. It began to sear the skin long before the
sun struck the normal atmosphere. Hanson could feel that he was being
baked alive. The blood in his arteries seemed to bubble and boil, though
that must have been an illusion. But he could see his skin rise in giant
blisters and heal almost at once to blister again. He screamed in agony,
and heard a million screams around him. Then the other screams began to
decrease in numbers and weaken in volume, and he knew that the slaves
were dying.

Through a slit between two fingers, he watched the ponderous descent.
The light was enough to sear his retinas, but even they healed faster
than the damage. He estimated the course of the sun, amazed to find that
there was no panic in him, and doubly amazed that he could think at all
over the torture that wracked his body.

Finally, convinced that the sun would strike miles to the south, he
rolled across the scorching surface of the stone block and dropped to
the north side of it. The shock of landing must have broken bones, but
a moment later he could begin to breathe again. The heat was still
intense, even behind the stone block, but it was bearable--at least for
him.

Pieces were breaking off the sun as it fell, and already striking the
ground. One fell near, and its heat seared at him, giving him no place
of shelter. Then the sun struck, sending up earth tremors that knocked
him from his feet. He groped up and stared around the block.

The sun had struck near the horizon, throwing up huge masses of
material. Its hissing against the ground was a tumult in his ears, and
superheated ash and debris began to fall.

So far as he could see, there were no other survivors in the camp. Three
million slaves had died. Those who had found some shelter behind the
stonework had lived longer than the others, but that had only increased
their suffering. And even his body must have been close to its limits,
if it could be killed at all.

He was still in danger. If a salamander could destroy even such a body
as his, then the fragments of sun that were still roiling across the
landscape would be fatal. The only hope he had was to get as far away
from the place