He tottered on the ledge, flailing his arms to keep from falling, then stood with his face pressed firmly against stone as he listened to someone running in his direction.
In the next instant Jared recognized the Adviser's voice coming from halfway across the world, "You at the Pit yet, Sadler?"
There was another distant outburst of screams as Sadler drew to a halt overhead. "I'm here!" He thudded his spear against rock to sound out Jared's position on the ledge below.
This time it was the Wheel's voice that rose in challenge to the monsters: "We've got Fenton! We know he's working with you! Get back or we'll kill him!"
Another wave of screams suggested that the monsters were ignoring Anseim's threat.
"All right, Sadler," Lorenz roared. "Send him to the bottom!"
The spear tip grazed Jared's shoulder and he winced, sidling along the ledge. It came back again, slipped between his chest and the wall of the Pit and began prying him from his perch. Jared toppled over backward and his arms threshed air as he fought to keep from plunging into the unfathomable abyss.
His flailing hand touched and gripped the lance. He jerked himself desperately upright. He gave the spear a violent tug and the full weight of the man at the other end came along with it.
Abruptly the spear was free in his hand and he felt the rush of air as Sadler went plunging by, screaming all the way down.
The weapon was more than long enough to span the Pit. Jared used it as a prodding stick to locate a minor recess in the opposite side.
Wedging its butt into the depression, he propped the point against the wall above him.
Panic subsided as quickly as it had broken out overhead. Apparently the invaders had accomplished their purpose and withdrawn.
Jared hoisted himself onto the wedged spear, reached up, gained a purchase on the lip of the Pit and pulled himself out
"Jared! You're free!"
Echoes from her footfalls brought fragmentary impressions of Della racing toward him. And he could hear the soft _swish_ of the coil of rope slung across her shoulder and brushing against her arm.
He tried to get his bearings. But the residual din of dismayed voices was too confusing to indicate which way the entrance lay.
Della caught his hand. "I couldn't find a rope until just now."
Impulsively, he started off in the direction he was facing.
"No." She spun him around. "The entrance is _this_ way. Ziv it?"
"Yes. I ziv it now."
He hung back slightly, letting her remain a step or two ahead and following the tug of her hand.
"We'll circle wide, along by the river," she proposed. "Maybe we can reach the passage before they turn on the central caster."
And he had been hoping someone _would_ do just that. Of course, he hadn't realized that the _clacks_ which would sound out the obstacles before him would also betray their presence to the others.
His foot contacted a minor outcropping and he stumbled. Eventually righting himself with the girl's help, he limped on. Then, constraining the anxiety of escape, he composed himself and called upon all the devices he had acquired through gestations of training when he had to learn to detect the subtle rhythm of a heartbeat, the swishing silence of a lazy stream agitated by the motions of a fish beneath its calm surface, the distant scent and slither of a salamander as it crossed moist stone.
More confident now, he listened for sound--any kind of sound, remembering that even the most insignificant noise is useful. There! That lurching catch in Della's breath as she drew in the next lungful of air. It meant she was stepping onto a slight elevation. He was prepared when he reached the rise.
He listened intently to the other things about her. Heartbeats were too indistinct to be useful except as direct sound. But there was something rattling faintly in her carrying case. He sniffed the imperceptible odors of a variety of edibles. She had packed a good deal of food and one morsel was striking the side of her pouch with each step. The slight _flops_ meant echoes, if he listened attentively enough. There they were now--almost lost among the greater noises from the rest of the world. But they were sufficiently vivid to relay audible impressions of the things before him.
Now he was sure of himself again.
They left the bank of the river, cutting across behind the manna orchard, and had made it almost to the entrance when someone finally turned on the central echo caster.
Immediately, he caught the full composite of a few faint impressions that had worried him for the last few beats--a guard had just arrived to take his post at the entrance.
A moment later the man sounded the alarm. "Somebody's trying to get out! Two of them!"
Jared lowered his shoulder and charged. He crashed into the sentry, knocking him breathless and bowling him over.
Della caught up with him and they lunged into the passageway. He let her stay in the lead until they had rounded the first bend. Then he produced a pair of stones and pushed ahead of her.
"Clickstones?" she asked, puzzled.
"Of course. If we run into somebody from the Lower Level they might wonder why I'm _not_ using them."
"Oh. Jared, why don't we--no. I suppose not."
"What were you going to say?" He felt perfectly at ease now, with the familiar tones of the pebbles faithfully bringing back true impressions of all the hazards ahead.
"I started to say let's go to the Zivver World where we belong."
He pulled up sharply. The Zivver World! Why not? If he was listening for a lessness of something that resulted from zivving, what better place to detect it than in a world where _plenty_ of people were doing a _lot_ of zivving? But could he get away with it? Could he successfully pose as a Zivver in a world full of Zivvers--and hostile ones at that?
"I can't leave the Lower Level just now," he decided finally.
"That's what I figured. Not with all the trouble they're having. But someperiod, Jared--_someperiod_ we'll go there?"
"Someperiod."
She tightened her grip on his hand. "Jared! What if the Wheel sends a runner to the Lower Level to tell them you're a Zivver?"
"They wouldn't--" He paused. He'd started to say they wouldn't believe it. But, with the Guardian dedicated to stirring up sentiment against him, he wondered.
When they reached his world, he found it odd that there were no longer any Protectors at the entrance. The clear, firm _clacks_ of the central caster did reveal, however, the presence of _someone_ standing there at the end of the passageway. And when he moved closer he received the reflected impression of feminine form, hair-over-face.
It was Zelda.
Hearing them she started. Then, nervously, she probed them with clickstones until they came into the full sound of the caster.
"You sure picked a Radiation of a time to bring a Unification partner back," she reproved after she had recognized Jared.
"Why?"
"There've been two more kidnapings by the monsters," she answered. "That's why we're not defending the entrance any longer. They took one of the Protectors. Meanwhile, the Guardian's managed to get the whole world worked up against you."
"Maybe I can do something about that," he returned irately.
"I don't think you can. You're not Prime Survivor any longer. Romel's taken over." Zelda coughed several times and it sent the hair flying from in front of her face.
He strode off toward the Official Grotto.
"Wait," the girl called. "There's something else. Everybody's boiling at you. Hear all that?"
He listened toward the residential section. The world was resounding with coughs.
"They blame you for this epidemic," she explained, "since they remember you were the first to have all the symptoms."
"Jared's back!" someone in the orchard shouted.
Another Survivor, farther along the way, took up the cry and passed it on to still a third.
Presently a score of persons could be heard filing out of the orchard where they had been working. Others spilled from the grottoes. And they were all converging on the entrance.
Jared studied the reflected _clacks_ and picked up impressions of Rome! and Guardian Philar in the forefront of the advance. They were flanked on either side by a number of Protectors.
Della seized his arm anxiously. "Maybe it would be safer if we just left."
"We can't let _Romel_ get away with this."
Ze!da added with a crisp laugh, "If you think this world's in a mess now, wait till you hear what Rome! does to it."
Jared stood his ground before the approaching Survivors. If he was going to convince them Romel and Phi!ar had merely taken advantage of them in the interest of personal ambition, it would have to be from a position of confidence and dignity.
His brother drew up before him and warned, "If you stay here you're going to hear things my way. I'm Prime Survivor now."
"How did the Elders vote on that?" Jared asked calmly.
"They haven't yet. But they will!" Romel seemed to be losing some of his self-assurance. He paused to listen and make certain he still had the support of the Survivors, who had drawn into a half circle about the entrance.
"No Prime Survivor can be removed," Jared recited the law, "without full hearing."
Guardian Philar stepped forward. "As far as we're concerned, you've _had_ your hearing--before a Power more just than any of us, before the Great Light Almighty Himself!"
One of the Survivors shouted, "You've got Radiation sickness! That only comes from having truck with Cobalt or Strontium!"
"And you passed it on to everybody else!" another added, coughing spasmodically.
Jared started to protest, but was prdmptly shouted down.
And the Guardian said severely, "There are only two sources of Radiation sickness. Either you _did_ have something to do with the Twin Devils, as Rome! suggested, or the disease is a punishment from Light for your profanity, as I suspect."
It was Jared who was losing his composure now. "It's not true! Ask Cyrus whether I--"
"The monster got Cyrus yesterperiod."
"The
Thinker--gone?"
Della tugged on his arm and whispered, "We'd better get out of here, Jared."
There were the sounds of clickstones and running feet in the passageway and he bent an ear to hear who was approaching.
By his pace, it was clear that the man was an official runner. And, when he broke his stride, it was further evident that he had sensed the congestion of persons at the entrance. He halted, then came forward more slowly, and without benefit of stones, to join them.
"Jared Fenton's a Zivver!" he disclosed. "Be led the monsters to the Upper Level!"
The Protectors, most of them armed with spears, spread out and encircled Jared and the girl.
Then someone shouted, "Zivvers--in the passage!"
More than half the Survivors turned and fled noisily back toward their grottoes as Jared picked up the scent drifting in from the passageway.
Someone redolent with the odors of the Zivver World was approaching--stumbling, falling, rising, and coming forward again.
The Protectors broke ranks as they jockeyed in confusion. The pair nearest the entrance drew back their spears.
Just then the Zivver staggered into the direct sound of the central caster and collapsed on the ground.
"Wait!" Jared shouted, casting himself at the two Protectors who were about to hurl their lances.
"It's only a child!" Della exclaimed.
Jared made his way to the girl, who was groaning with pain. It was Estel, whom he had returned to the Zivver party in the Main Passage.
He heard Della kneel on the other side of the child and run her hands over the girl's chest. "She's hurt! I can feel four or five broken ribs!"
Still, Estel recognized him and he caught the sound of her weak smile. He could sense, too, the animation in her eyes as he listened to them dart up and down in purposeful motion.
"You told me someperiod I'd start z.ivving--when I least expected it,"
she managed painfully.
Spear touched spear somewhere behind him and the echoes captured the grimace that twisted the child's smile.
"You were right," she continued feebly. "I was trying to find your world and I fell into a pit. When I climbed out again, I started zivving."
Her head slumped against his arm and he felt the life shudder out of her body.
"Zivver! Zivver!" the incriminating cry rose behind him.
"Jared's a Zivver!"
He seized Della's hand and lunged into the tunnel as two spears struck the wall beside him. He paused only long enough to snatch up the lances, then continued on into the passageway.
Half a period later, with long stretches of unfamiliar passages behind them, Jared paused and listened tensely.
There it was again! A distant flutter of wings--much too faint for Della's ears, though.
"Jared, what _is_ it?" She pressed close against him.
Casually, he said, "I thought I heard something."
Actually, he had suspected for some time that the soubat was trailing them.
"Maybe it's one of the Zivvers!" she suggested eagerly.
"That's what I hoped at first. But I was mistaken. There's nothing there." No sense in alarming her--not just yet.
As long as he could keep the conversation going, he had little to worry about insofar as pitfalls were concerned. The words provided a steady source of sounding echoes. But subject matter was not inexhaustible and eventually there came lapses into silence. It was then that he had to resort to artifice to keep the girl from discovering he wasn't a Zivver. An ingeniously timed cough, an ostensibly awkward clatter of the lances, an unnecessary scuff that sent a loose stone rattling along the ground--all these improvisations helped.
He let a spear strike rock and was rewarded with the reflected composite of a bend in the corridor. As he negotiated it, Della warned,
"Watch out for that hanging stone!"
Her alarmed words fetched him an impression of the sliver of rock in all its audible clarity. But too late.
_Clop!_
The impact of his head snapped the needle in two and sent fragments hurtling against the wall.