I nearly didn't make it. The Yavanni were right on my heels and going far toofast to stop, and their big feet slammed into the logs like bowling diskshitting the pins. The whole pile went rippling down behind me, and if I'd beena fraction of a second slower I'd have gone down right along with it. As it was, I

came within an ace of missing my flying leap upward at the eaves when mytakeoff log bobbled under my feet and robbed me of some hard-earned momentum. But Imade it and got the desired grip, and a second later had hauled myself over the edgeand onto the roof.

Not any too soon, either. I was just swinging my legs up over the edge whenone of the logs came whistling up past the eaves to disappear into the night sky.

Myplaymates below, proving themselves to be sore losers. I didn't know whetherYavanni were good enough jumpers to get to the roof without the aid of thewoodpile they'd just demolished, but I had no particular desire to find outthe hard way. Keeping my head down—there were plenty more logs where that firstone had come from—I got my feet under me and headed across the roof.

All the buildings in this section of the spaceport periphery were reasonablyuniform in height, with only those narrow alleys separating them. With alittle momentum, a gentle tailwind, and the inspirational mental image of irritatedYavanni behind me I made it across the gap to the next rooftop with half ameter to spare. I angled across that one, did a more marginal leap to the buildingabutting against its back, and kept going. Along the way I managed to get outof my jacket and turn it inside out, replacing the black leather with anobnoxiously loud paisley lining that I'd had put in for just this sort ofcircumstance. Aiming for a building with smoke curling out of its chimney, Ilocated its woodpile and made my way down.

The Yavanni were nowhere to be seen when I reentered the main thoroughfare andthe wandering groups of spacers, townspeople, come-ons, and pickpockets.