Wilding stared upward at the gigantic symbol, and felt a stir of religious awe.
The owl-like priest spoke then. He spoke in good, cultured Martian, though his vocal apparatus massacred word sounds.
"Even the gods die," he said in whistling accents. "Or they grow bored and tired and go away. The gods are beyond understanding, and sometimes we are beyond their understanding as well."
Wilding shivered as if a blast from icy eternities blew over him.
"My time is short," he said quickly. "I came to ask help from you, but a man's bones and flesh can stand only brief exposure to this radiation. If I stay here too long, I will die."
"Perhaps you will be reborn as a Pit Man," suggested the old priest philosophically.
The possibility was no consolation to Wilding.
He talked quickly, outlining his project, stating his needs, and the possible gain to the Pit Men in co-operating with him.
"I plan to escape with the bulk of the prisoners," he said. "If you will help, you can have your asteroid to yourselves again."
"How could we help you?"