And Fors, gorged and content, met that confidence with his own.
8. WHERE ONCE MEN FLEW
They slept fitfully that night on piles of moldering fabrics they dragged together, and on rousing ate and drank again from the supplies in the storeroom. Then they climbed once more until the steps ended in a platform which had once been walled by large glass windows. Below the city spread out in all its broken glory. Fors identified the route he had pioneered on entering and pointed it out. And Arskane did the same for the one he had followed in the east.
“South should be our road now—straight south—”
Fors laughed shortly at that observation.
“We have yet to win free of this one building,” he objected. But Arskane was ready with an answer to that.
“Come!” One of his big hands cupped the mountaineer’s shoulder as he drew Fors to the empty window space facing east. Far below lay the broad roof of a neighbor building, its edge tight against the side of the tower.
“You have this.” Arskane nipped the end of the mountain rope still wrapping Fors’ belt. “We must go down to those windows just above that roof and swing through to it. See, south lies a road of roofs across which we may travel for a space. These Beast Things may be cunning but perhaps they do not watch the sky route against escape—it hangs above the ways they seem to like best. It is in my mind that they hug the ground on their journey-ings—”
“It is said that they best love to slink in the burrows,” confirmed Fors. “And they are supposed to be none too fond of the open light of day—”
Arskane plucked his full lower lip between forefinger and thumb. “Night fighters—eh? Well then, day is the time for us—the light is in our favor.”