that moment the
younger man did not care where they had been, what they had done. It was
enough that his terrible loneliness was gone, that Ashe was here.

Still keeping his hold on Ross, Ashe turned his head and called into the
wilderness of the symbol-glowing space about them, "Karara?"

She came to them, not crawling, not wrung almost dry of spirit and
strength, but on her two feet. About her shoulders her dark hair waved
and spun--or was it dark now? Along those strands there seemed to be
threaded motes of light, giving a silvery sheen which was a faint echo
of the Foanna's tresses. And was it only his bemused and bewildered
sight, Ross mused, or was her skin fairer?

Karara smiled down at them and held out her hands, offering one to each.
When they took them Ross knew again that surge of energy he had felt
when he had followed the Foanna into the maze dance.

"Come! There is much to do."

He could not be mistaken; her voice held the singing lilt of the Foanna.
Somehow she had crossed some barrier to become a paler, perhaps a
lesser, but still a copy of the three aliens. Was this what they had
meant when they warned of a change which might come to those who
followed them into the ritual of this place?

Ross looked from the girl to Ashe with searching intensity. No, he could
see no outward change in Gordon. And he felt none within himself.

"Come!" Some of Karara's old impetuousness returned as she tugged at
them, urging them to their feet and drawing them with her. She appeared
to know where they must go, and both men followed her guidance.

Once more they came out of the weird and alien into the normal, for here
were the rock walls of a passage running up at an angle which became so
steep they were forced to pull along by handholds hollowed in the walls.

"Where are we going?" Ashe asked.

"To cleanse." Karara's answer was ambiguous, and she sped along hardly
touching the handholds. "But hurry!"

They finished their climb and were in another corridor where patches of
sunlight came through a pierced wall to dazzle their eyes. This was
similar to the way which had run beside the courtyard in Zahur's castle.

Ross looked out of the first opening down into a courtyard. But where
Zahur's had held the busy life of a castle, this was silent. Silent, but
not deserted. There were men below, armed, helmed. He recognized the
uniform of the Wrecker warriors, saw one or two who wore the gray of the
Foanna servants