They were close enough, though to stun Rynason if they hit him.
He dropped flat, looking for the man who had fired. In a moment he found
him: a small, lean man slipped almost silently over the edge of one of
the step-levels and rolled quickly to cover beneath the next. He had got
further than Rynason had realized; only three levels separated them now.
He could see, from this distance in the near-dark, the cruel lines of
the man's face. It was a harsh, dirty face, with wrinkles like seams;
the man's eyes were harsh slits. Rynason had seen too many faces like
that here on the Edge; this was a man with a bitter hatred, looking for
the chance to unleash it upon anyone who got in his way. And the
enjoyment which Rynason saw gleaming in the man's eyes chilled him
momentarily.
In that moment the man leaped to the next level, sending off a beam
which struck the wall two feet from Rynason; he felt the stinging
vibration against his body as he lay flat. Slowly he sighted the
disintegrator at the top of the level under which the man had crouched
for cover, and waited for his next leap.
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