This time Watson was not worried over height, or any other sensation of flight. The doctor's safety alone was of moment. He said to the Rhamda:
“Are we alone? Where is the Bar MacPherson?”
“He is somewhere near; we are not alone, my lord. Several other machines are flying nearby also; they carry many of the Rhamdas and the crimson guard of the queen. The MacPherson will arrive first. We are going straight to the Palace of Light, my lord.”
“Are we to storm the place?” thinking of the fight MacPherson had predicted.
“Yes, my lord. Many shall die; but it cannot be helped. We must free the Jarados, although we commit sacrilege.”
“But—the Senestro?”
“That depends, my lord. We know not just what may be done.” He gave no explanation.
They had climbed to a tremendous height. The indicator showed that they were bearing east. The darkness was modified only by the faint glow from that star-dusted sky. Looking down, Chick could see nothing whatever. His companions kept silence; only the Aradna, sitting forward by the side of Jan Lucar showed any perturbation. They climbed higher and higher still, until it seemed that they must leave the Thomahlia altogether. Always the course was eastward. At last the Jan said to the Geos:
“We are now over the Region of Carbon, sir. Shall I risk the light? His lordship might like to see.”
“Follow your own judgment.”