"What kind of help?" For a moment Dalgard pictured the monster
returning at the head of a regiment of its kind, able to tear out this
grille and get at their soft-fleshed enemies behind it.

"Safety--protection," Sssuri told him. "And I think that the place to
which it now flees is one we should know."

"Those Others?" The sun had not clouded, it still streamed down in the
torrid heat of early afternoon, warm on their heads and shoulders. Yet
Dalgard felt as chill as if some autumn wind had laid its lash across
the small of his back.

"_They_ are not here. But they have been--and it is possible that they
return. The devil goes to where it expects to find them."

Sssuri was already on his way, running about the arena's curve to
reach the point above the archway through which the snake-devil had
raced. Dalgard padded after him, bow in hand. He trusted Sssuri
implicitly when it came to tracking. If the merman said that the
snake-devil had a definite goal in view, he was right. But the scout
was still a little bemused by a monster who was able to have any goal
except the hunting and devouring of meat. Either the one who fled was
a freak among its kind or--There were several possibilities which
could answer that "or," and none of them were very pleasant to
consider.

They reached the section above the archway and climbed the tiers of
seat benches to the top of the wall. Only to see no exit below them.
In fact nothing but a wide sweep of crushed brown tangle which had