ing terraces of snow and ice surrounded it--lawns of
smooth white, with winding paths of ice. A many balconied building;
towers, spires and minarets crowning it. All blue-white. Glittering.
Seemingly fragile; from a distance, a toy--a sample of the ultra-skill
of some master confectioner, as though the whole thing were a toy of
sugar for children to admire. But at close range--solid; in the cold of
this terrible region, as solid as though constructed of blocks of stone.

With the flying platform landed, and its warming rays cut off,
attendants rushed forward. Tarrano and Elza were wrapped in furs at
once--heavy furs which covered them from head to foot.

"Well! Well, Graten!" Tarrano greeted his subordinate smilingly. "Things
are in condition here? You got my message?"

"Yes, Master. All is in good fashion here. We welcome you."

In his furs, with face almost hidden, Elza could not see what manner of
man this was.

They entered the palace. Frescoed; carved everywhere, within as without.
The main doorway led into a palatial hall, carpeted with furs. It was
warm. Tarrano discarded his fur, and helped Elza out of hers.

"You like my home, Lady Elza?"

"It's--beautiful," she answered.

His smile showed amusement at the wonder and awe which stamped her
expression. He added very gently:

"I had in mind when I built it, the hope that you would be pleased."

A comfortable interior warmth. Elza noticed little blurs of red light
behind wire cages here and there. The warmth came from them; and a glow
of pale white light from the tubes along the wall.

A woman hurried to them. Tara! Elza recognized her at once. Tara,
looking very pretty in a pale blue robe, with her hair done high upon
her head. The woman who loved Tarrano; he had sent her on here to be rid
of her, when he went to the Great City. She came forward. Pleasure was
on her face at seeing Tarrano; but her glance as she turned it
momentarily toward Elza, held again that smouldering jealousy.

Tarrano was evidently in a mood of high good humor.

"You welcome me prettily, Tara." She had flung her arms about him.
"Tara, my dear is----"

"Master--you come but in time. They are working the Brende instrument.
Already they have----"

"They? Who?" He frowned. His words were hard and cold as the ice-blocks
around him.

"Woolff. And the son of Cretar. Many of them--using it now!"

Tarrano drew Elza with him. Tara led the way. Through glowing white
hallways, an a