nd the Toad God sprawled in hideous
embroideries across the white folds of her breast.

Kyral gulped hoarsely. His hand flew up as he clutched the charms strung
about his neck. I imitated the gesture mechanically, watching Kyral,
wondering if he would turn and run again. But he stood frozen for a
minute. Then the spell broke and he took one step toward the girl, arms
outstretched.

"Miellyn!" he cried, and there was heartbreak in his voice. And again,
the cry making ringing echoes in the strange street:

"Miellyn! _Miellyn!_"

This time it was the girl who whirled and fled. Her white robes
fluttered and I saw the twinkle of her flying feet as she vanished into
a space between the houses and was gone.

Kyral took one blind step down the street, then another. But before he
could burst into a run I had him by the arm, dragging him back to
sanity.

"Man, you've gone mad! Chase, in a nonhuman town?"

He struggled for a minute, then, with a harsh sigh, he said, "It's all
right, I won't--" and shook loose from my arm.

He did not speak again until we reached the gates of Canarsa and they
closed, silently and untouched, behind us. I had forgotten the place
already. I had space only to think of the girl, whose face I had not
forgotten since the moment when she saved me and disappeared. Now she
had appeared again to Kyral. What did it all mean?

I asked, as we walked toward the camp, "Do you know that girl?" But I
knew the question was futile. Kyral's face was closed, conceding
nothing, and his friendliness had vanished completely.

He said, "Now I know you. You saved me from the catmen, and again in
Canarsa, so my hands are bound from harming you. But it is evil to have
dealings with those who have been touched by the Toad God." He spat
noisily on the ground, looked at me with loathing, and said, "We will
reach Shainsa in three days. Stay away from me."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Shainsa, first in the chain of Dry-towns that lie in the bed of a
long-dried ocean, is set at the center of a great alkali plain; a dusty,
parched city bleached by a million years of sun. The houses are high,
spreading buildings with many rooms and wide windows. The poorer sort
were made of sun-dried brick, the more imposing being cut from the
bleached salt stone of the cliffs that rise behind the city.

News travels fast in the Dry-towns. If Rakhal were in the city, he'd
soon know that I was here, and guess who I was or why I'd come. I mig