He arrived, at last, at the base of the wall where the blunt rocks of
the mountains tumbled to a dead-end against flat, weathered stone. So
far he must not have been seen; there had been no disintegrator beams
fired at him, no leathery Hirlaji heads watching from the walls. He
flattened against the stone and raised his eyes to the barriers.
The wall here had been built higher than the portions which faced the
Flat, and it was stronger. No one had tried to storm the city from this
position, because it was too well protected. But the walls had been
built against the heavy, clumsy bodies of the grey aliens; with luck, a
man could scale this wall. The footholds in the weathered stones would
be precarious, but perhaps it could be done. And the Hirlaji, who
regarded this wall as impregnable, would not be guarding it.
Sighting upward from flat against the wall, he chose his path quickly,
and began to climb. The stone was smooth but grainy; he dug his fingers
into narrow niches and pulled himself slowly upward, bracing himself
with footholds whenever he could.
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