uliar form of communication, he
submitted to her finger tips, though now his skin crawled under that
light but firm pressure and he shrank from the contract.

There were no sensations this time. To his amazement a concrete inquiry
shaped itself in his brain, as clear as if the question had been asked
aloud: "Who are you?"

"Shann...." he began vocally, and then turned words into thoughts.
"Shann Lantee, Terran, man." He made his answer the same which had kept
him from succumbing to their complete domination.

"Name--Shann Lantee, man--yes." The other accepted those, "Terran?" That
was a question.

Did these people have any notion of space travel? Could they understand
the concept of another world holding intelligent beings?

"I come from another world...." He tried to make a clean-cut picture in
his mind--a globe in space, a ship blasting free....

"Look!" The fingers still rested between his eyebrows, but with her
other hand the Warlockian was pointing up to the dome of the cavern.

Shann followed her order. He studied those patches of light which had
seemed so vaguely familiar at his first sighting, studying them closely
to know them for what they were. A star map! A map of the heavens as
they could be seen from the outer crust of Warlock.

"Yes, I come from the stars," he answered, booming with his voice.

The fingers dropped from his forehead; the scaled head swung around to
exchange glances, which were perhaps some unheard communication with
the other three. Then the hand was extended again.

"Come!"

Fingers fell from his head to his right wrist, closing there with
surprising strength; and some of that strength together with a new
energy flowed from them into him, so that he found and kept his feet as
the other drew him up.

12. THE VEIL OF ILLUSION

Perhaps his status was that of a prisoner, but Shann was too tired to
press for an explanation. He was content to be left alone in the unusual
circular, but roofless, room of the structure to which they had brought
him. There was a thick mat-like pallet in one corner, short for the
length of his body, but softer than any bed he had rested on since he
had left the Terran camp before the coming of the Throgs. Above him
glimmered those patches of light symbolizing the lost stars. He blinked
at them until they all ran together in bands like the jeweled coils on
Warlockian bodies; then he slept--dreamlessly.

The Terran awoke with all his senses al