she who sows what may be reaped----"

"Outland stranger who is under the Wrath of Lurgha," the other mocked
him in the voice of Cassca. "What do you want, outlander, that you dare
to come here where no man may enter?"

"That which you know. For on the night when Lurgha came you also
saw----"

Ross heard the hiss of a sharply drawn breath. "How knew you that,
outlander?"

"Because you serve the Mother and you are jealous for her and her
service. If Lurgha is a mighty god, you wanted to see his acts with your
own eyes."

When she finally answered, there was anger as well as frustration in her
voice. "And you know of my shame then, Assha. For Lurgha came--on a bird
he came, and he did even as he said he would. So now the village will
make offerings to Lurgha and beg his favor, and the Mother will no more
have those to harken to her words and offer her the first fruits----"

"But from whence came this bird which was Lurgha, can you tell me that,
she who waits upon the Mother?"

"What difference does it make from what direction Lurgha came? That does
not add nor take from his power." Cassca moved beneath the arch. "Or
does it in some strange way, Assha?"

"Perhaps it does. Only tell me."

She turned slowly and pointed over her right shoulder. "From that way he
came, Assha. Well did I watch, knowing that I was the Mother's and that
even Lurgha's thunderbolts could not eat me up. Does knowing that make
Lurgha smaller in your eyes, Assha? When he has eaten up all that is
yours and your kin with it?"

"Perhaps," Assha repeated. "I do not think Lurgha will come so again."

She shrugged, and the heavy cloak flapped. "That shall be as it shall
be, Assha. Now go, for it is not good that any man come hither."

Cassca paced back into the heart of the green tunnel, and Ross and
McNeil came out of concealment. McNeil faced in the direction she had
pointed. "Northeast--" he commented thoughtfully, "the Baltic lies in
that quarter."

CHAPTER 8

"... and that is about all." Ten days later Ashe, a dressing on his leg
and a few of the pain lines smoothed from his face, sat on a bunk in the
arctic time post nursing a mug of coffee in his hands and smiling, a
little crookedly, at Nelson Millaird.

Millaird, Kelgarries, Dr. Webb, all the top brass of the project had not
only come through the transfer point to meet the three from Britain but
were now crammed into the room, nearly pushing Ross and McNeil through
the w