Hell—what did he care whether Kari lived or died? It was only the glamor of half-alienage that had drawn him to the girl. A dagger in her throat—
Besides, he was certainly facing doom now.
"All I can do—" he said—and stopped abruptly. He was speaking aloud. Patiently the twin voice in his brain waited for him to continue.
Slowly he flexed his arms. He tilted back his head, staring up at the rim of the pit fifty feet above him. He could see the titan pillars rising toward the roof of that mighty tower, incredibly far above. But there was no sign of life.
"I can move," he said. "I—"
Struck by a new thought, he gripped the folds of the cloak. It was nauseously warm and vibrant. It seemed to move under his hands. He jerked at it, and felt a twinge of agonizing pain along his spine and about his throat, while a white-hot lance stabbed into his skull.
"If I could get rid of this—you could help me?"
"We could give you our power, to use against the Aesir. But we do not know how to remove the cloak."
"I don't either," Stuart growled, and paused as a movement caught his eye. The muscular Earthman near him was stirring.
He turned slowly. Beyond him the Martian girl swayed her feathery-crested head and lifted supple, slender arms. And the others—all about Stuart they were wakening to motion.