What are
you going to do?"

"I'm going after Norhala," he answered. "I'm going to have a showdown
with her or know the reason why."

"Drake," I cried again, aghast, "don't make the mistake Ventnor did.
That's not the way to win through. Don't--I beg you, don't."

"You're wrong," he answered stubbornly. "I'm going to get her. She's got
to talk."

He thrust out a hand to the curtains. Before he could touch them, they
were parted. Out from between them slithered the black eunuch. He stood
motionless, regarding us; in the ink-black eyes a red flame of hatred. I
pushed myself between him and Drake.

"Where is your mistress, Yuruk?" I asked.

"The goddess has gone," he replied sullenly.

"Gone?" I said suspiciously, for certainly Norhala had not passed us.
"Where?"

"Who shall question the goddess?" he asked. "She comes and she goes as
she pleases."

I translated this for Drake.

"He's got to show me," he said. "Don't think I'm going to spill any
beans, Goodwin. But I want to talk to her. I think I'm right, honestly I
do."

After all, I reflected, there was much in his determination to recommend
it. It was the obvious thing to do--unless we admitted that Norhala was
superhuman; and that I would not admit. In command of forces we did not
yet know, en rapport with these People of Metal, sealed with that alien
consciousness Ruth had described--all these, yes. But still a woman--of
that I was certain. And surely Drake could be trusted not to repeat
Ventnor's error.

"Yuruk," I said, "we think you lie. We would speak to your mistress.
Take us to her."

"I have told you that the goddess is not here," he said. "If you do not
believe it is nothing to me. I cannot take you to her for I do not know
where she is. Is it your wish that I take you through her house?"

"It is," I said.

"The goddess has commanded me to serve you in all things." He bowed,
sardonically. "Follow."

Our search was short. We stepped out into what for want of better words
I can describe only as a central hall. It was circular, and strewn with
thick piled small rugs whose hues had been softened by the alchemy of
time into exquisite, shadowy echoes of color.

The walls of this hall were of the same moonstone substance that had
enclosed the chamber upon whose inner threshold we were. They whirled
straight up to the dome in a crystalline, cylindrical cone. Four
doorways like that in which we stood pierced them. Through each of their
curtai