he thought grimly, whoever or whatever had him
captive wasn't trying to make him like it.

It became obvious as soon as the chamber's door closed behind him that
this was an elevator. It dropped at a speed that made him feel light,
and it kept dropping for longer than he would have thought possible.
He found himself wishing he could believe in the gods' return, could
believe he'd somehow been chosen to call them. But Tenar had said
they'd promised to return when they were needed, and they hadn't. It
was a hundred years since the sporadic interclan disagreements had, for
no apparent reason, turned into bloody wars instead of being settled by
n'Ka'ruchaya and elders. No clan was at peace now, unless that could
be said of the ones that had been destroyed. Kranath could all too
easily see that happening to St'nar, his small clan overwhelmed by
others that allied against it. He had visions of that horror: the
attack, killing all the fighters; the rest of the adult males defending
the clanhome and dying; the break-in, and more death as females and
older younglings fought the invaders. Only those too small to know what
was happening, or to fight, would survive--to be taken into the
victors' clans, and then to be formally adopted when they were old
enough.

Kranath shuddered. The clan was far more important than any
individual. A person lived perhaps two hundred years, while a clan
could live as long as the race itself. But why was he thinking of all
this now? He was a captive, in an elevator that was finally slowing,
oppressing him with more than his own weight before it finally stopped.
The door opened. Why should he think of anything at all? He was in
Godhome, dishonored and as good as dead.

He stepped out, uncompelled now and bitter. He might not believe in
the gods, but he had to believe in whatever power had forced him here.
Given that, further resistance would be both useless and stupid. He
could only hope that-- No. One who had been toyed with as he had been
dared hope for nothing. The unseen power had taken his will, his
honor. Whatever else it demanded of him would be minor.

"Not true," a directionless voice said.

Kranath gasped in shock as he made a fast scan of the featureless white
room he now stood in. It was empty, with no trace left of the elevator
door, or any other exit. Nobody was there, and he saw no
loudspeakers--but there had to be something!

Finally it sank in. The voice had