his

about it.”
“ ‘If we can,’ ” repeated, Zinga with a grin displaying no humor but many sharp teeth. “That is a most interesting suggestion, Rolth. I wonder if there were—or are—any Bemmys numbered in the crew or among the pas­se­ngers of the X451. You notice that I am inclined to use the past tense when I refer to them. Indications would make that seem proper.”
Kartr studied his two brown hands, one protruding from the dirty sling, the other resting on his knee. They were scratched and calloused, the nails worn down. But though he was examining each one of those scratches with minute attention he was really absorbed in the nasty implications of Zinga’s words. No—he didn’t have to accept matters as they were. He should make a few preparations of his own.
“Where are our packs?” he asked Zinga.
Both eyelids closed in a slow wink. “Those creatures are under our eye. If we have to leave in a hurry we’ll be able to do so with full tramping equipment.”
“I shall suggest to Jaksan that the rangers take quarters on their own—together—” Kartr said slowly.
“There is a three-story tower on the west corner of this building,” cut in Fylh. “Should we withdraw to that lofty perch—well, it may be that they will be so glad to be rid of us that they will permit it.”
“Let ourselves be bottled up?” asked Zinga with some sting in his hissing voice.
Fylh clicked his claws with an irritated snap. “No one is going to be bottled up. Please remember we are dealing with highly civilized city dwellers, not explorers. To them all possible passages in and out of a building are ­accounted for by windows and doors only.”
“Then this tower of yours boasts some feature not included in that catalogue which would serve us in a pinch?” There was a little smile curving Rolth’s pale lips.
“Naturally. Or I would