Breed to Come by Andre Norton Read Free Book Online

it.
    He stalked farther along the dark way. Again a thinlacing of light led him to a grill. But this one was setat an easier height, so he need not climb to it. Helooked through into a much larger chamber, whichwas lighted by several glowing rods set in the ceiling.
    To his right was a door, and before it Rattons! Thefirst live ones he had ever seen so close.
    They were little more than half his size if one didnot reckon in the length of their repulsive tails.
    Oneof them had, indeed, a tail which was only a scarredstump. He also had a great scar across his face whichhad permanently closed one eye. He leaned againstthe door gnawing at something he held in one paw hand.
    His fellow was more intent on an object he held,a band of shining metal on which was a cube of glittering stuff. He shook the band, held the cube to one ear.Even across the space between them Furtig caughtthe faint buzzing sound which issued from that cube.And he guessed that-this must be Gammage's caller—though how it might help to free Foskatt he had noidea. Except he knew that the Ancestor had masteredso much of Demon knowledge in the past that this device might just be as forceful in some strange way asthe claws were in ripping out a Ratton throat.
    Furtig crowded against the grill, striving to see howit was held in place, running his fingers across it withcare so as not to ring his weapon tips against it. Hecould not work it too openly with Rattons on guard tohear—or scent—him.
    The grill was covered with a coarse mesh. He twisted at it now with the claw tips, and it bent when heapplied pressure. So far this was promising. Now Furtig made the small chirruping sound with which ahunter summons a mouse, waiting tensely and withhope.
    Three times he chirruped. There was a shadow rising at the screen. Furtig struck. Claws broke throughthe mesh, caught deep in flesh and bone. There was amuffled squeak. With his other hand Furtig torefuriously at the remaining mesh, cleared an opening, and wriggled through, hurling the dead Ratton fromhim.
    On the floor lay the caller. The scarred guard hadfled. Furtig could hear his wild squealing, doubtlesssounding the alarm. It had been a tight fit, that pushthrough the torn mesh, and his skin had smartingscratches. But he had made it, and now he caught upthe caller.
    He almost dropped it again, for the band felt warm,not cold as metal should. And the buzzing was louder.How long did he have before that fleeing guard returned with reinforcements?
    Furtig, the caller against his chest, kicked aside thebars sealing the door and rushed in. He reached Foskatt, hooked a claw in the other's bonds to cut them.But seeing the extent of his tribesman's wounds, hefeared the future. It was plain that with that injuryFoskatt could not walk far.
    "The caller—give it to me—" Foskatt stared at thething Furtig held. But when he tried to lift a hand itmoved like a half-dead thing, not answering his will,and he gave an impatient cry.

    "Touch it," he ordered. "There is a small hole onthe side, put your finger into that!"
    "We must get away—there is no time," Furtig protested. "Touch it!" Foskatt said louder. "It will get us outof here."
    "The warrior is mad," growled the other prisoner."He talks of a thing coming through the walls to savehim. You waste your time with him!"
    "Touch it!"
    Foskatt made no sense, yet Furtig found himselfturning the caller over to find the hole. It was there,but when he tried to insert a finger, he discoveredthat his digit was far too thick to enter. He was aboutto try the tip of a claw when Foskatt batted clumsilyat his arm, those deep ridges in his flesh, cut by thebonds, bleeding now.
    "No—don't use metal! Hold it closer—hold it forme!"
    Furtig went to his knees as Foskatt struggled up.Foskatt bent forward, opened his mouth, and putforth his tongue, aiming its tip for the hole in thecube.
    Foskatt's head jerked as if that touch was painful,but he persisted, holding his tongue with an effortwhich was