He knew what he'd have to do, of course. Walk right up to the gate and trust to luck that he could find some way of announcing his presence without getting himself killed. How did you gain entrance to an impregnable fortress? Surely there had to be some way by which a man could gain admittance without being instantly shot down as a hostile intruder.
He was surprised by the simplicity of the answer. There was no need for him to press a bell or a buzzer, to manipulate a mechanism of any sort. There was not even any need for him to proclaim his arrival by shouting.
The gate swung inward without a sound, and in the shadows cast by its moving bulk two figures silently materialized. They were guards, heavily armed, one tall with shaggy brows and piercing dark eyes, the other a wiry little man with reddish hair, his expression peculiarly bland and non-committal.
It was the little man who said: "All right, come inside. We've been expecting you."
It was impossible, but true. There was nothing threatening in the way the words were uttered, just calm acceptance, just the matter-of-fact indifference of a man who has a duty to perform and doesn't care what happens afterwards.
But it would have perhaps been better if Corriston had not moved so quickly forward, for almost instantly the second guard barred his passage and laid a firm hand on his arm.
"Hold on. Just a minute," the tall guard said. "You're Peter Stone, aren't you?"
With a quick pretense of anger Corriston jerked his arm free and looked the guard up and down. "Naturally I'm Stone. Who in hell did you think I was."
"Sorry," the guard said, shrugging. "Don't take it out on me. I just had to be sure."
"Well, you're sure now. I guess you know why I'm here."