Garth's fingers tried to find some purchase on the smooth surface of the panel. He failed....
A Zarno called a question. Garth turned back to the eye-slit, trying to fight back his dizziness. Heads were lifted, he saw, watching him inquiringly, as though the silicate creatures expected something. Well—
He made the robot move again, its arms reaching out in ancient ceremonial gestures. A gasp of awe came from the Zarno.
Their chant thundered out, deeper, sonorous and inhuman.
Garth felt the beginning of a throbbing ache in his temples. He was trapped here. How long could he stand it? He was human, not one of the Ancients. He needed air—
He held the Zarno, but not for long. Once more bulbous heads were lifted, oval eyes watching him inquiringly. They were expecting something—what? Garth tried to remember what he had seen in the recorder.
More heads were lifted.
Garth made the robot step forward, raising its metal arms. He had to say something—anything that would hold the Zarno quiet for a while, long enough for Doc and the others to escape. Words he had forgotten since childhood came suddenly unexpectedly to him. The English phrases meant nothing to the Zarno, but the sonorous, powerful chant kept them silent.
"He shall deliver thee from the snare of the hunter; and from the noisome pestilence.... Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.... A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee...."