He was sure that the banquet hall was some ten stories above street
level. But they did not go down ten ramps now. At the foot of the
third the officer turned abruptly to the left, beckoning Raf along.
When the Terran remained stubbornly where he was, pointing in the
direction which, to him, meant return to the flitter, the other made
gestures describing an aircraft in flight. His own probably.

Raf sighed. He could see no way out unless he cut and ran. And long
before he reached the street from this warren they could pick him up.
Also, in spite of all the precautions he had taken to memorize their
way here, he was not sure he could find his path back to the flyer,
even if he were free to go. Giving in, he went after the officer.

Their way led out on one of the spider-web bridges which tied building
and tower into the complicated web which was the city. Raf, as a pilot
of flitter, had always believed that he had no fear of heights. But he
discovered that to coast above the ground in a flyer was far different
than to hurry at the pace his companion now set across one of these
narrow bridges suspended high above the street. And he was sure that
the surface under them vibrated as if the slightest extra poundage
would separate it from its supports and send it, and them, crashing
down.

Luckily the distance they had to cover was relatively short, but Raf
swallowed a sigh of relief as they reached the door at the other end.
They were now in a tower which, unluckily, proved to be only a way
station before another swing out over empty space on a span which
sloped down! Raf clutched at the guide rail, the presence of which
suggested that not all the users of this road were as nonchalant as
the officer who tripped lightly ahead. This must explain the other's