Metas was right! Over and over the bitter thought claimed him. Metas had known! Beneath the generations of logic that had bred him, lay a core of savagery. Years it had slumbered. Now it claimed him.
He must have made a sound. The girl whirled. Her eyes were great and dark, her skin rose over dusk. But now the rose-color fled, so that her wide gaze seemed black with terror and loathing.
Under that gaze Allyn felt whipped. For the first time he felt shame—shame for himself and for all Numen. Shame that they had caged these people, torn them, bled and killed them. All in the name of science! Experiment was survival! The Logicians had made it holy. The mirror of the girl's eyes told him what Numen were. Monsters!
She shivered. Drew back against Keeven. Her slim body, bare armed, bare legged in the brief skin garment, trembled against the young savage.
"Don't be afraid," he soothed. "This Numan is a friend." Briefly he recounted his experiences since leaving camp, till the terror left her face. Then he said to Allyn: "This is my sister, Marva."
"Keeven," she tugged at his hand. "We must get away from here. The Gyro-Gard have been circling all day."
The Olman's laugh was mirthless: "Go? Where?"
"Come with me," Allyn said impulsively. "I am going to the Forbidden Area. I am going to cross the Flame Barrier."
Even the wind stopped at the fearsome words. They shrank back from him.