"
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!"
The hole in the sky was directly overhead now, and the moaning had
risen in pitch. Across the little clearing, Malok began backing quietly
away, carefully not looking upwards. Nobody but Dave seemed to notice
his absence. There was a louder moan.
One of the men in the clearing began to rise upwards slowly.
Pages:
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77