p in water, from which arose an unpleasant
smell.

"All right--Come--" he put full force into the thought he beamed at
the stranger above. When the other did not obey, Dalgard began to
wonder if he should climb to his aid. Had the aliens broken through
and overwhelmed the other? Or what had happened? The rope whisked up
out of his hands. And a moment later a voice rang eerily overhead.

"Clear below! Coming down!"

Dalgard scrambled out of the space under the opening, heading on into
the murk where the merman waited. There was a splash as the stranger
hit the stream, and the rope lashed down behind him at their united
jerk.

"Where do we go from here?" The voice carried through the dark.

Scaled fingers hooked about Dalgard's right hand and tugged him on. He
reached back in turn and locked grip with the stranger. So united the
three splashed on through the rancid liquid. In time they came out of
the first tunnel into a wider section, but here the odor was worse,
catching in their throats, making them sway dizzily. There seemed to
be no end to these ways, which Raf guessed were the drains of the
ancient city.

Only the merman appeared to have a definite idea of where they were
going, though he halted once or twice when they came to a side passage
as if thinking out their course. Since the man from the arena accepted
the furred one's guidance, Raf depended upon it too. Though he
wondered if they would ever find their way out into the open once
more.

He was startled by sudden pain as the hand leading him tightened its
grip to bone-bruising force. They had stopped, and the liquid washed
about them until Raf wondered if he would ever feel clean again. When
they started on, they moved much more swiftly. His companions were in
a hurry, but Raf was unprepared for the sight which broke as they came
out in a high-roofed cavern.

There was an odd, cold light there--but that light was not all he saw.
Drawn up on a ledge rising out of the contaminated stream were rows of
the furred people, all sitting in silence, bone spears resting across
their knees, long knives at their belts. They watched with round,
unblinking eyes the three who had just come out of the side passage.
The rescued merman loosened his grip on Dalgard's hand and waded
forward to confront that quiet, waiting assembly. Neither he nor his
fellows made any sound, and Raf guessed that they had some other form
of communication, perhaps the same telepathic abi