s of radiation sickness. Steve knew it was bound to

manifest itself sooner or later. There could be no ecape. He would

suffer the same fate as Poppa-Jack. But how strange! he thought.

Maybe it's just being up in the air again but it's a long time since I

felt as good as this.

Steve levelled out at an estimated altitude of three thousand feet well

beyond the range of any Mute crossbows below. If he was going to make

a break for it, now was the time to do it. A see-saw battle raged

inside him.

Steve knew that, if he chose this moment to fly away, he would be

betraying the trust of Cadillac and Mr Snow. And there was

Clearwater.

Despite his promises to Mr Snow and to himself, his resolution was

beginning to crumble. Steve wanted to get close to her again; to talk

to her without being surrounded by a milling crowd of Mutes. He would

stay, he decided. He would delay his flight to freedom until he found

some way to meet up with her. Just once. Just the two of them. But

that was crazy too. He knew it was his duty to escape: knew that, if

he did not, he would inevitably fall sick and die, yet . . .

Something was wrong. Something had happened to him.

And Steve knew what it was: it was the same feeling that had gripped

him when he had faced the open ramp doors after his first overground

solo. The thought of returning to his life underground, a life which

once seemed the normal - indeed the only possible mode of existence,

now filled him with a strange dread.

Cutting the motor, Steve descended, shaving the mountainous rock-face

behind the bluff in a series of daredevil swoops then, before landing,

he made a couple of low level passes over the heads of the

spectators.

To his surprise, he saw that Clearwater had joined Cadillac on the

clifftop.

Both waved to him as he swept past. Steve wondered how to handle the

situation. Since meeting Clearwater and talking to Mr Snow, he had not

mentioned her name to Cadillac.

How much did the young wordsmith know? Was he to pretend he did not

know who she was? Play it by ear, Brickman...

Steve brought Blue-Bird up into a stall and made a smooth, stand-up

landing, coming to a stop after five paces.

He quickly unbuckled his harness and, in response to a beckoning

gesture from Cadillac, pushed his way through the excited crowd that

surrounded Blue-Bird. Steve tried to keep his face in neutral as he

came face to face with Clearwater. Cadillac made no attempt to

introduce him but, on the other hand, did not act as if Clearwater

wasn't there.

He congratulated Steve on his stylish performance then turned away

briefl3/to tell the young Mutes not to tamper with the glider.

Steve took the opportunity to look deep into the Mute's blue eyes.

They blazed briefly as Cleffrwater returned his look, then became

veiled. 'I envy you,' she said. 'How does it feel to fly like a

bird?"

'Fantastic. You get a wonderful sense of... it's indescribable. Each

time I go up I never want to come down.

In fact, the truth is, when I circled that peak, I very nearly decided

to go home."

'I'm glad you didn't,' replied Clearwater guardedly. Again her eyes

flashed briefly.

'Oh, really?" Steve tried to keep all expression out of his voice and

face as Cadillac turned back to them.

'Yes,' said Cadillac. 'You see - if you had tried to escape, you would

have fallen out of the sky like a stone."

Steve looked at them both and laughed disbelievingly.

Cadillac touched Clearwater's shoulder. 'Show him.

Show our friend the power that, in the hands of Talisman, will drive

the sand-burrowers back into their holes and bury them for ever."

The word 'friend' carried a vague emphasis which made Steve uneasy.

Cadillac had to know something. Probably knew everything. Steve tried

to read their faces but neither gave anything away.