Alak and Slinh went along the darkened walks. Not many beings were abroad, though the taverns shook with an unnatural hysterical merriment. It was no trick to find a parked ground-air car and appropriate it with the help of Alak’s key. The difficulty would lie in escaping from the city.

The Patrolman sent the car whispering into the sky toward the dimly glowing force-field. In moments, the call screen was buzzing and blinking an angry red. Alak switched over to the police band, keeping his face cowled and shadowed. An indignant helmeted head glared out of the screen at him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded the policeman.

“Officer, I’ve got to get out of the city,” said Alak. “My wife and children—”

“The screen isn’t lowered for any civilian in wartime. One second without protection and— Now get back on the ground where you belong.”

“Be reasonable, officer. If the Marhalians were within ten lightyears you’d be alerted. I…I wasn’t expecting war. I left my family up at North Pole Resort—that’s no place for them to be in wartime. They’ll recall my wife anyway, she’s an electronician—”

“How many times must I—”

“Of course, I could take it up with my old friend Jeron Kovals,” said Alak, naming the city police chief, “but I didn’t think he’d want to be bothered—”

“Well, there’s a lot of military and government traffic tonight. Wait till the next official car comes along, then you can go out with it.”

“Thanks.” Alak snapped off the screen and let his body relax, muscle by muscle. It was as much as he’d dared hope for. But if his theft was discovered while he waited—

It wasn’t. The stolen car slipped past the lowered force-dome together with a long sleek black flier bearing several stars. Alak took a direct north course until the city was behind the horizon, then opened the car up and swung in a screaming arc for the Premier’s estate.

Nighted countryside slipped beneath him. The numbers representing position co-ordinates changed on the car’s dashboard. He let the autopilot take over, and studied the landscape below.

“Mostly agricultural,” he said.

“But…wait, there’s a pretty big region of forested hills. We’ll hide there.”

“If we escape to hide,” said Slinh gloomily.

When they were within a kilometer of Voal’s home, Alak halted the car and hung motionless on its gravity beams. “They’d detect a metal object coming any closer,” he said. “I’ll wait here for you, Slinh.”

Wordlessly, the reptile opened the door. His leathery wings flapped and the night swallowed him.

The servants were wakened by a shout and the sound of falling bodies. A blaster roared in the dark. Someone screamed and there was heard a beating of wings out the nursery window.

When order of a sort was restored, it was found that—something—had come into the room, rendering several guards unconscious on the way; one, who had had a brief glimpse at which he had fired, swore it was a devil complete with tail and bat wings. Be that as it may, Alia, youngest daughter of the Premier of Luan, was missing, and a note addressed to her father lay on the floor.