Dave followed the man out into the clearing. A few men were just
planning to leave, and they looked at Dave suspiciously, but made no
protest. One, whom Dave recognized as the leader with the snetha-knife,
scowled.

"The risings are almost due, Bork," he said.

Bork nodded. "I know, Malok. I've decided to let Dave Hanson watch.
Dave, this is our leader here, Res Malok."

Dave felt no strong love for his would-be murderer, and it seemed to be
mutual. But no protest was lodged. Apparently Bork was their top
conjurer, and privileged. They crossed the clearing and went through the
woods toward another, smaller one. Here a group of some fifty men were
watching the sky, obviously waiting. Others stood around, watching them
and avoiding looking up. Almost directly overhead, there was a rent
place where the strange absence of color or feature indicated a hole in
the dome over them. As it drew nearer true vertical, a chanting began
among the men with up-turned faces. Their hands went upwards, fingers
spread and curled into an unnatural position. Then they stood waiting.

"I don't like it," Bork whispered to Dave. "This is one of the reasons
we're growing too weak to fight the Satheri."

"What's wrong with a ceremony of worship, if you must worship your
eggshell?" Dave asked.

"You'll see. That was all it was once--just worship. But now for weeks,
things are changing. They think it's a sign of favor, but I don't know.
There, watch!"