n, staying alert,
waiting to see what was wrong.

In a few minutes, Barrent was alone in a tightly shuttered city. He
moved into the center of the street, loosened the needlebeam in its
holster, and prepared for attack from any side. Perhaps this was some
special holiday like Landing Day. Perhaps Free Citizens were fair game
tonight. Anything seemed possible on a planet like Omega.

He thought he was ready for any possibility. But when the attack came,
it was from an unexpected quarter.

A faint breeze stirred the stagnant air. It faded and returned, stronger
this time, perceptibly cooling the hot streets. Wind rolled off the
mountains of the interior and swept through the streets of Tetrahyde,
and Barrent could feel the perspiration on his chest and back begin to
dry.

For a few minutes, the climate of Tetrahyde was as pleasant as anything
he could imagine.

Then the temperature continued to fall.

It dropped rapidly. Frigid air swept in from the distant mountain
slopes, and the temperature fell through the seventies into the sixties.

This is ridiculous, Barrent thought to himself. I'd better get to the
Coven.

He walked more rapidly, while the temperature plummeted. It passed
through the forties into the low thirties. The first glittering signs of
frost appeared on the streets.

It can't go much lower, Barrent thought.

But it could. An angry winter wind blew through the streets, and the
temperature dropped into the twenties. Moisture in the air began forming
into sleet.

Chilled to the bone, Barrent ran down the empty streets, and the wind,
rising to gale force, pulled and tugged at him. The streets glittered
with ice, making the footing dangerous. He skidded and fell, and had to
run at a slower pace to keep his footing. And still the temperature
dropped, and the wind growled and snapped like an angry beast.

He saw light through a heavily shuttered window. He stopped and pounded
at the shutters, but no sound came from inside. He realized that the
people of Tetrahyde never helped anyone; the more who died, the more
chance there was for the survivors. So Barrent continued running, on
feet that felt like chunks of wood.

The wind shrieked in his ear, and hailstones the size of his fist pelted
the ground. He was getting too tired to run. All he could do now was
walk, through a frozen white world, and hope he would reach the Wee
Coven.

He walked for hours or for years. At one corner he passed the bod