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Y^s, he signed.
A few moments later, her hands holding his feet, about to let go of his
branch, he had second thoughts.
Ipan didn't mind this bit of calisthenics, and in fact was happy to be back in
a tree. But Hari's human judgment still kept shouting that he could not
possibly do it. Natural pan talent conflicted with human caution.
Luckily, he did not have much time to indulge in self-doubt. Sheelah yanked
him off the branch. He fell, held only by her hands.
She had wrapped her feet securely around a thick branch and now be-
gan to oscillate him like a weight on a string. She swung him back and forth,
increasing the amplitude. Back, forth, up, down, centrifugal pressure in his
head. To Ipan it was unremarkable.
glinted. Very professional.
He barely had time to realize all this when she let him go.
He arced up, hands stretched out and barely caught the lip. If it had not
protectively protruded out, he would have missed.
He let his body slam against the side. His feet scrabbled for purchase against
the sheer face. A few toes got hold. He heaved up, muscles bunching and over.
Never before had he appreciated how much stronger a pan could be. No man could
have made it here.
He scrambled up, cutting his arm and haunch on glass. It was a delicate
business, getting to his feet and finding a place to stand.
A surge of triumph. He waved to Sheelah, invisible in the tree.
From here on it was up to him. He realized suddenly that they could have
fashioned some sort of rope, tying together vines. Then he could lift her up
here. Good idea, too late.
No point in delaying. The compound was partly visible through the trees, a few
lights burning. Utterly silent. They had waited until the night was about half
over; he had nothing but Ipan's gut feelings to tell him when.
FOUNDATION'S FEAR
423
He looked down. Just beyond his toes razor wire gleamed, set into the
concrete. Carefully he stepped between the shiny lines. There was room
pan.
Go. He leaped. Twigs snapped and he plunged heavily in shadows.
Branches stabbed his face. He saw a dark shape to his right and so curled his
legs, rotated, hands out and snagged a branch. His hands closed easily around
it and he realized it was too thin, too thin
It snapped. The crack came like a thunderbolt to his ears. He fell, letting go
of the branch. His back hit something hard and he rolled, grappling for a
hold. His fingers closed around a thick branch and he swung from it. Finally
he let out a gasp.
Leaves rustled, branches swayed. Nothing more.
He was halfway up a tree. Aches sprouted in his joints, a galaxy of small
pains.
Hari relaxed and let Ipan master the descent. He had made far too much noise
falling in the tree, but there was no sign of any movement across the broad
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lawns between him and the big, luminous station.
He thought of Dors and wished there were some way he could let her know he was
inside now. Thinking of her, he measured with his eye the distances from
nearby trees, memorizing the pattern so that he could find the way back at a
dead run if he had to.
Now what? He didn't have a plan.
skin, stubby legs eating up the remaining distance. They were well trained to
seek and kill soundlessly, without warning.
To Ipan the monsters were alien, terrifying. Ipan stepped back in panic before
the two onrushing bullets of muscle and bone. Black gums peeled back from
white teeth, bared beneath mad eyes.
Then Hari felt something shift in Ipan. Ancient, instinctive responses stopped
his retreat, tensed the body. No time to flee, so fight.
Ipan set himself, balanced. The two might go for his arms so he drew them
back, crouching to bring his face down.
Ipan had dealt with four-legged pack hunters before, somewhere far back in
ancestral memory, and knew innately that they lined up on a vic-
tim's outstretched limb, would go for the throat. The canines wanted to bowl
him over, slash open the jugular, rip and shred in the vital seconds of sur-
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