«It was my thought,» said Blade, «that we go together to the Government Building and make prisoners of the Morphi elders, the high council. Only when we have them in absolute security, and the power complex also, will we repower them and make an effort to come to terms. That way we hold the power over them and they must treat with us.»

Jantor was thinking hard and frowning as he did so. «That might have worked but for one thing-I have sliced all the elders to bits. I cannot put them together again and so we cannot treat with them. So we dare not turn on the power. The Morphi, without leaders, will riot. They will turn on us, and on equal terms Gnomen cannot defeat the Morphi. No, man Blade, you had better leave matters to me. We must kill Sybelline and Wilf and go on with the destruction of the Morphi. I see no other way.»

Already Blade had an alternative plan. «You cannot do that. Admit it. This city goes on forever. Your task will never be finished. And there will always be the danger that someone, sometime, will turn on the power.»

Jantor nodded in agreement. «I know that. I will just have to do the best I can, for as long as I can. One thing I do know-I have come out of the sewers at last and I am not going back-nor are my people.» «Only listen a moment longer,» Blade begged. «There are still the Selenes. They can control the Morphi. If I can make contact with them, set up a parley, it may be that the Selenes will force the Morphi to keep the peace when they are repowered.»

«You are being a fool again!» Jantor spat. «The orbfolk care nothing for either Morphi or Gnomen. We are less than mole rats to them. They care nothing for what goes on down here.»

«You have not been watching their Moon lately,» said Blade slyly. «They are worried about something. And it was the Selenes who seduced Sybelline with promises, who got her to turn off the Morphi power by treachery. Why?»

Jantor scowled. «How should I know that? I dare not think as high as the Moon. I know the Selenes can do as they like with all of us and we are helpless against it.»

«I know something that you do not, Jantor. The Selenes are much interested in me. Very interested. They do not want anything to happen to me. Do you not see it? I can use myself as a bargaining point. And I will if I must. But all this can be worked out later. I think we had better go to the Government Building and send a guard of your best men down the chute to take control of the power complex. I am something of your mind in that. I do not trust Sybelline too far.»

There was no sound, but Blade felt an odd tingling in his body. The light changed, became mellow, brighter and more cheery. There was a murmur, ever growing, of crowd noises. A babble that in this context was terrifying-laughter and coughing and sneezes and chatter and cat calling. There was a movement of bodies and feet.

The light grew, mellow and bright and sourceless. Blade was as dumb-stricken as Jantor and his men.

Blade was looking directly at the Morphi actor with his hand out in a motion of declamation: the hand swept up and out and the actor's voice came strong and fluid, resonant. «I say to you, my love, that be I as low as a Gnoman, or as high as a Selene, nothing will ever change my regard for you. I-«

Blade had only time to think that it must have been a very bad play.

Jantor leaped at him, screaming. «Treachery! The power. The power is on!»

Someone in the audience shouted. «Gnomen-Gnomen! Invasion. Call the patrols. Gnomen-Gnomen-«

Morphi women began to scream. The actor rushed at Jantor. Blade ducked, caught the man and flung him over his shoulder into the pit of mole rats.

Jantor raised his spear bar to thrust at Blade but he did not follow through. He was paralysed with shock and fear. Blade seized the moment.

He bellowed at Jantor and the Gnomen near him. «This was no treachery of mine. It's Sybelline. Follow me. Obey. We still have a chance. Come on!»

The Morphi began to close in. They were more intelligent and came out of shock faster than the Gnomen. Some of the men were trying to wrestle spear bars away from the Gnomen while a continuous cry went up for patrols. Blade did not want to meet any patrols.

He ran a Morphi through with his bar and then began to lay about him with the hooked end. He shouted at Jantor and the guardsmen. «Fight, damn you, fight! Kill them! Follow me and fight your way out!»

To Norn he said, «Stay close to me.»

Blade battered his way through the crowd. The Gnomen were beginning to fight now, heeding his instructions, clotting together in an entanglement of spear bars and making for the street. The Morphi audience, without weapons and dependent on their patrols, fell back before the onslaught. Blade led the way, swinging the bar in murderous circles, crushing and maiming, feeling the battle rage soar in him.

It could not last. He knew that. No doubt they were all as good as dead or in the five mile pits. The patrols would come and they would have weapons with which neither the Gnomen nor Blade could cope.

At the moment he did not care. There was no time to consciously think it out, so he followed his instinct to kill Morphi.

Flesh and blood was to be preferred over plastic. Sweat, hair and smells were better than eternal beauty, power studs and brains that could be shut off at the will of a few leaders. Tainted blood was better than blood that was changed every month. Eternal beauty, youth and sex was all right except that the price was too high.

Somewhere, off over the city, Blade heard a siren.

CHAPTER 16

The sirens were like none Blade had ever heard-a continuous, high-pitched hooting. He caught a glimpse of cars speeding past. Each car contained six Morphi. They wore arm brassards and snouty gas masks; each had a cylinder strapped to his back and carried a nozzled hose at the ready.

Norn pressed against Blade, clinging to his arm. Jantor was just behind. They were in an alley, some dozen buildings from the square and the Hall of Entertainment, and by some miracle they had not been spotted.

«Those masks?» asked Blade. «Why do they wear them?»

Jantor grimly explained about the laughing death powder.

«Come on,» Blade commanded. «Hurry and go quietly. Down to the sub-1 basements. Go before me, Norn. Quickly.»

Jantor began to reveal a fatalistic side. «It is hopeless. We cannot fight them on even terms. They have powder cannon as well and will set them up on every corner. As soon as they organize, we are doomed. I say to stand and kill as many as possible before we die.»

Blade called a halt. They were in a sub-1 basement, a large area evidently used for storage. Three Morphi workers, just coming awake, were slashed to bits by spear bars. Blade made a fast count. Just over a hundred of Jantor's guard.

«My people are dispersed all over the city,» Jantor continued. «I have no communication with them. They will all be hunted down.»

Blade became angry. «You have a choice,» he said curtly. «Go and give yourself up, or listen to me and obey. I tell you it is not hopeless.»

Jantor leaned on his bar and scowled around at his men. «What say you?»

To a man they shouted, «We obey you, Jantor.»

Jantor nodded at Blade. «And I, for this time, will obey you. Very well, how do you propose to get us out of this?»

Blade beckoned him to one side. «Some must be sacrificed. You choose them, say thirty men. They must go up and over the roofs, expose themselves, and draw the patrols away from the Government Building. Be sure they understand that-away from the Government Building.»

Jantor nodded. «They will all die.»

«I know. Choose them quickly.»

Blade waited with Norn while it was done. The chosen men did not question the order. They filed out and up a stair that would lead them to the roof. They knew nothing of operating the lifts, now with power restored.