es. But only for an hour of passion, at first. An hour of the
blinding futility of trying, in her arms, to forget the crowding
ugliness of life. He had not cared if the women he knew had souls, or if
he had. Souls were unfamiliar, vague, and he would not have known one if
he encountered it. Soft, white bodies, glowing like pale witchlights in
the darkness. Yes, he had known many such. He had known many women,
loved none.

Newlin had not spoken, not in words. But Songeen heard, by some subtle
sense that was part of this abnormal forest.

Her laugh was a soft tinkle of breaking glass. She did not speak aloud,
but word-symbols of thought poured from her mind. Newlin was aware of
them, springing suddenly into his own brain, but he knew they came from
her.

"Many women, yes. But none like me. If you loved me, it would not be for
this body. It is not what you think. I hold this substance, this form,
only by power of will. It is mine only for a short while more. My flesh
is not like yours, subject to different laws of form and movement."

* * * * *

Newlin answered her, but now in words. His voice sounded like a note of
strained sanity in such a place of nightmare.

"I never learned love in the sense you mean," he said. "Nor had I
thought of you again, in that way--after Monta Park. You were too alien
for me. I understood that. Too alien for any kind of love I knew. You
were--repulsive."

In silence, then, thoughts blocked out, Songeen guided Newlin. She
seemed aloof, withdrawn. They filed slowly amid towering masses of smoky
crystal. She led, drifting like a smoke wraith, before him. Newlin
picked a cautious pathway over treacherous, unstable footing. He
followed, bemused, and reluctance grew into agony of mind.

What was wrong with him? He grappled with himself, and strains grew into
open rebellion. What did he want?

Near the portal, sensing it or another like it, he balked.

"Songeen!"

At his call, she glided back, phantomlike. "Yes?"

"You're in trouble here, aren't you? Because of bringing me?"

Shoulders as translucent as thin ivory shrugged. "No matter."

"But you are?" Newlin insisted, as if it mattered suddenly to him.

"Yes," she granted softly. "But do not alarm yourself. Only
misunderstanding. I will explain my motives. They will point out my
error. There is no punishment here."

"You're not telling everything. What is wrong?"

Her moonfire eyes were troubled. "