"Come off it," said Jerran urgently. "You're still thinking like a rucker."
"I am of the ruck."
"You're a rebel now, you fool! Think like one! Listen: a man cannot kill a god."
"The Globate Credo," grunted Revel. "Our Orbs are everlasting, untouchable. Crud! I've killed four today."
"Right. So stop fearing them and thinking they're omnipotent. Our Orbs see all we do. More crud, lad! They're telepathic, adept at hypnosis, but rock stops 'em. Get rock above you and you are safe for a while, till I can think this over and get you some help."
"The mine!" Revel barked; to his madness, his exhilaration, was added hope. "The secret cave, Jerran!"
"And of course," said Jerran wryly, "you have to take the woman."
Revel's jaw dropped. "Why?"
"You idiot, she just heard you say about six words too many. She'd lead her father's pack straight to us!" Jerran evidently knew the Lady Nirea by sight. "She knows our names, too. It's either take her or kill her." His flinty eyes creased up. "Better kill her, at that. Less danger."
Revel looked at her. The talk of murder didn't turn a hair of that flawlessly-wrought coiffure: she was either too sure of the gentry's power, or too stunned by the gods' death, to be consciously frightened.