While still a few feet short of the wall, Tharn swerved sharply to the left, crashed through a thick growth of bushes and paused in front of a small gate. Even as Trakor was about to point out the futility of trying to force a way through those stubborn planks, Tharn drew open the barrier and leaped through.
Trakor, stricken dumb with astonishment at this new development, followed him into the street as Tharn slammed shut the gate and dropped its bar into place a split second before a heavy shoulder thudded against its opposite side.
What promised to be at least a breathing space died in its infancy as a full dozen of the white-tunicked fighting men of Vokal's guard appeared at the juncture of streets to their left, and catching sight of them, came tearing along the pavement in their direction.
"This way," Tharn said, and the two cave men raced into the night.
For nearly a quarter-hour the two Cro-Magnards fled through the black labyrinth of Ammad's streets, twisting and turning to throw off pursuit. Twice they encountered patrols from other estates along their erratic pathway, but an arrow or two from Tharn's deadly bow drove them off.
Finally the two men slowed to a walk, their feet soundless against the stone surface of a narrow street between two walls in which no gates were visible. For the moment at least, it appeared their hunters had lost them, thus giving them a chance to gauge their present position.
Judging from the way this particular street slanted upward ahead of them they were on one of Ammad's hills. Further along a huge building loomed against the night sky from squarely across their path—a building larger and higher than any they had seen thus far.
"Dylara is back there," Trakor said abruptly.
Tharn nodded without looking around. "I know," he said simply. "We must find some place to hole up until another night comes. Then I am going back for her."