am true or false. Logally _was_ dead;
therefore, this dream was false, it had to be.

The Terran began to walk toward that grinning ogre rising out of his old
nightmares. His hand was no longer on the butt of his stunner, but swung
loosely at his side. He saw the coming lash, the wicked promise in those
small narrowed eyes. This was Logally at the acme of his strength, when
he was most to be feared, as he had continued to exist over the years in
the depths of a boy-child's memory. But Logally was _not_ alive; only in
a dream could he be.

For the second time the lash bit at Shann, curling about his body, to
dissolve. There was no alteration in Logally's grin, His muscular arm
drew back as he aimed a third blow. Shann continued to walk forward,
bringing up one hand, not to strike at that sweating, bristly jaw, but
as if to push the other out of his path. And in his mind he held one
thought: this was not Logally; it could not be. Ten years had passed
since they had met. And for five of those years Logally had been dead.
Here was Warlockian witchery, to be met by sane Terran reasoning.

Shann was alone. The mist, which had formed walls, enclosed him again.
But still there was a smarting brand across his shoulder. Shann drew
aside the rags of his uniform blouse to discover a welt, raw and red.
And seeing that, his unbelief was shaken.

When he had believed in Logally and in Logally's weapon, the other had
had reality enough to strike that blow, make the lash cut deep. But when
the Terran had faced the phantom with the truth, then neither Logally
nor his lash existed, Shann shivered, trying not to think what might lie
before him. Visions out of nightmares which could put on substance! He
had dreamed of Logally in the past, many times. And he had had other
dreams, just as frightening. Must he front those nightmares, all of
them----? Why? To amuse his captors, or to prove their contention that he
was a fool to challenge the powers of such mistresses of illusion?

How did they know just what dreams to use in order to break him? Or did
he himself furnish the actors and the action, projecting old terrors in
this mist as a tri-dee tape projected a story in three dimensions for
the amusement of the viewer?

Dream true--was this progress through the mist also a dream? Dreams
within dreams.... Shann put his hand to his head, uncertain, badly
shaken. But that stubborn core of determination within him was still
holding. Next time