The Olman leaned forward eagerly: "Tell us how to storm the Nyloplast dome that surrounds your city. My kinfolk and I will crush your Logicians and get back your Aleena."
Allyn looked at him in horror: "Do you think even if I could I would betray Numan into the hands of beasts."
The young savage drew back. His face became hard in bitter lines, and for a moment his hand flashed to his belt, but his knife was rusting in the vitals of a rat.
"Beast?" his mouth twisted in hatred. "I—Keeven—am nothing but a beast to you."
Allyn was bewildered by the other's emotion. The silver brows drew together in perplexity. Numen were dispassionate, and the Olman's torrent of feeling was totally new to him.
Whatever he might have said was never uttered. Out of the sky came the drone of a motor.
"Gyro-gard!" Keeven exclaimed. He crouched like a cat-thing moving fluid under the shelter of the rock ledge. Heart hammering, Allyn leapt down beside him. Dry-throated, cramped, they heard the motor come closer, then fade away in the distance.
"That was close," Allyn said as they came out of concealment. "The closest they've come yet. They're widening the area of search." He turned to the other. "Leave me quickly. I can only bring you disaster."
It was Keeven's turn to be perplexed. "I confess I don't understand you. You are a Numan, but you are different. What do they call you, Numan?"
"Allyn."