utting edge of the roof, where they could protect the
orrery. Bork and Ser Perth were among them, bloody but hopelessly
determined.

One look at Sather Karf's expression was enough to convince Hanson that
Malok had cried the truth and that their work could still be undone. And
it was obvious that the warlocks could never stand the charge of the
Sons. Too many of them had already been killed, and there was no time
for reviving them.

Sather Karf was starting forward into the battle, but Hanson made no
move to follow. He snapped the diamond lens to his eye and his fingers
caught at the drop of sun-stuff on the awl. He had to hold it near the
glowing bit for steadiness, and it began searing his fingers. He forced
control on his muscles and plunged his hand slowly through the sky
sphere, easing the glowing blob downward toward the spot on the globe he
had already located with the lens. His thumb and finger moved downward
delicately, with all the skill of practice at working with nearly
invisibly fine wires on delicate instruments.

Then he jerked his eyes away from the model and looked out. Something
glaring and hot was suspended in the air five miles away. He moved his
hand carefully, steadying it on one of the planet tracks. The glowing
fire in the air outside moved another mile closer--then another. And
now, around it, he could see a monstrous fingertip and something that
might have been miles of thumbnail.

The warlocks leaped back under the roof. The Sons of the Egg screamed
and panicked. Jerking horribly, the monstrous thing moved again. For
part of a second, it hovered over the empty camp. Then it was gone.

Hanson began pulling his hand out through the shell of the model,
whimpering as his other hand clenched against the blob in his pocket. He
had suddenly realized what horrors were possible to anyone who could use
the orrery now. "Rumpelstilsken, I command you to let no hand other than
mine enter and to respond to no other controls." He hoped it would offer
enough protection.

His hand came free and he threw the sun-bit away with a flick of his
wrist. His hand ached with the impossible task of steadiness he had set
it, and his finger and thumb burned and smoked. But the wound was
already healing.

In the exposed section of the camp, the Sons of the Egg were charred
corpses. There was a fire starting on the roof of the building, but
others had already run out to quench that. It sounded like the snuffling
pr