Garth sprinted across the floor. He could hear voices growing louder in the distance, and the thumping of the Zarnos' footsteps, but he dared not risk a glance behind. Could he make it?
He jerked to a halt, springing behind the throne, its bulk temporarily hiding him. The Zarno were in the temple-cave now; he could tell that by their voices. Hastily he sought the secret spring.
A panel opened in the ebon block. It was exactly as he had seen it on the tripod-recording machine, a fair-sized cubicle with light coming faintly through a vision-slit in one wall. Garth wedged himself in and slid the panel shut behind him, gasping with relief. Peering through the slit, he found he could see the entire cavern. Three Zarno were approaching.
The robot, seated on the throne above him, was, of course, invisible. Garth stared around, trying to remember the details of the Ancients' recording. A helmet transmitter ... there it was, attached by wires to the low ceiling. Warily Garth slipped it upon his head.
What now?
A flat black plate, like a diaphragm, was set in the wall slightly above his head as he crouched. This hiding-place, he realized, had been built for the larger bodies of the Ancients.
Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate. Doc Willard had said the helmet-transmitters worked that way. Telepathy—will-power—
"Stand up!" he commanded silently to the unseen robot above him. "Stand up!"
There was a stir of movement. Garth, peering through the slit, saw the three Zarno jerk to a halt.
One of them cried, "The gods return! Kra-enlarnov! The gods!"