The
rest of his path had succumbed to the explosion. He looked again at the
Council House, and it was already half hidden, and on the right a
hillside with a cluster of domes and pinnacles, hazy, dim and distant,
was gliding into view.
"And the Council is really overthrown?" he said.
"Overthrown," said Ostrog.
"And I--. Is it indeed true that I--?"
"You are Master of the World."
"But that white flag--"
"That is the flag of the Council--the flag of the Rule of the World. It
will fall. The fight is over. Their attack on the theatre was their last
frantic struggle. They have only a thousand men or so, and some of these
men will be disloyal. They have little ammunition. And we are reviving
the ancient arts. We are casting guns."
"But--help. Is this city the world?"
"Practically this is all they have left to them of their empire. Abroad
the cities have either revolted with us or wait the issue. Your awakening
has perplexed them, paralysed them."
"But haven't the Council flying machines? Why is there no fighting
with them?"
"They had. But the greater part of the aeronauts were in the revolt with
us. They wouldn't take the risk of fighting on our side, but they would
not stir against us. We _had_ to get a pull with the aeronauts. Quite
half were with us, and the others knew it. Directly they knew you had got
away, those looking for you dropped. We killed the man who shot at
you--an hour ago.
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