II

There was wind on his face, and the air was bitterly cold. Telis

stirred. His harness covered him only slightly, and his bare limbs and

naked chest stung under the lash of the icy night air. From somewhere,

muffled by the roaring of the wind, Telis could hear the familiar

beat of a multiple-pulse jet engine. Under his questing hands lay the

caulked deck of an air-sled, and he realized that the aircraft was

under way and that he was lashed to rings in the afterdeck.

With a shuddering sigh, he forced himself to relax. Since his abductors

so obviously had the better of him at the moment, there was little he

could do other than watch and wait.

For what seemed to be several hours, he lay quiet and watched the

endless procession of the stars overhead. Finally, as the last effects

of the stun-gun's bolt wore off, he lifted his head to get a look at

his captors.

In the greenish glow of phosphorescent light that emanated from the

instruments on the sled's panel, he could see two figures seated at the

controls. The dim light gleamed for a moment on an insigne--the Sword

and Atom. He had not been mistaken back there in the courtyard. He was

in the hands of the Temple.

The nearer man glanced in his direction and, seeing that he had

awakened, leaned forward to speak. There was no surprise in Telis as he

recognized him. Only a hot anger. For the man was his friend Gorla.

"Telis! Are you all right?" Gorla had to shout to make himself heard

over the rush of the wind.

Telis felt his anger increase. Here was Gorla, who had had him

attacked, stunned, and finally kidnapped. And now, it seemed, he was

concerned over the state of his health and general condition! It did

not matter that Brand would within hours be convincing the gentlemen

of the Maldia that Telis of Lars was a faint-hearted coward who

disappeared in the eleventh hour before the attack on the aliens' camp!

What mattered to Gorla was simply: "Telis, are you all right!"

Getting nothing but a scowl from Telis, the young Priest sat back, a

half smile on his round, pleasant face. He could well imagine what

Telis' thoughts were about now. Hurt pride and mortified anger were

apparent in every line of the Lord of Lars' tense body.

For hour after hour the air-sled sped along through the smooth night

air. The farther moon set and the madly racing nearer moon rose again

in the west and charged insanely across the backdrop of the eternal

stars. Telis could not see his chronometer, but he estimated that they

had been travelling almost all night at the highest speed the sled

could handle. The pulsing of the jet was a smooth, continuous purr.

They were heading in a westerly direction, and after a bit of mental

mathematics, Telis estimated that they must be very near the heart of

the Great Red Desert and a long, long way from the capital.

As he struggled to keep from freezing, the young noble estimated

his chances for survival on this strange flight. He found them

dishearteningly slim. For some reason, the seemingly benevolent Temple

had intervened harshly and forcefully in the plan to destroy the

Tellurians. But it should have been apparent to the Priests that his

abduction would not stop the attack. There were plenty of men to take

his place. Brand, surely. Then why was he being held?

Perhaps the Temple did not wish that he should gain the sanction of the

Laurr of Laurr for the Maldia's plan. But why abduction, then? Why not

merely hold him prisoner until the attack was begun? The events of the

night showed a great deal of careful planning and organization. Such

things took time. And again, why? Telis had a strong suspicion that in

some way the great fondness that the Laurr of Laurr had for him, and

the correspondingly large influence he wielded because of it had more

than a little to do with these strange and dangerous doings....

The motion of the air-sled as it slanted sharply downward interrupted

his reverie. They were nearing their destination, and whatever was in

store for him would not be long in materializing.

Gorla arose from his seat at the panel and cautiously made his way

across the precariously canted deck. Reaching Telis' side, he knelt and

brought his lips close to the young warrior's ear.

"We near our base, Telis, my friend," he shouted. "I beg of you to be

prudent and to contain yourself when you are interviewed. The Temple

elders are wise men and you will do well to listen and learn when they

speak with you...."

Telis made an angry retort that the wind snatched from his lips and

whirled away into the night.

"I know you are angry with me, Telis," the young Priest continued, "but

you have made all this necessary. Remember, it is for Laurr!" He laid

an arm across the prisoner's shoulders that Telis could not find the

heart even in his anger to shrug off. "And," the Priest was smiling

now, "you shall see Dorliss, Telis. Few laymen ever do...."

Dorliss! Then there _was_ such a place! The legends told of it--a

fabled city hidden from the sight of men by some mysterious power,

where the Priests of the mighty Seventh Cycle cloistered themselves to

study the oldest of the ancient riddles. Dorliss! Even the name had a

magical sound! It was here that the Temple's finest minds were said to

struggle in their quest to reclaim Laurr's air and water from the sea

of rust that surrounded them....

Gorla squeezed the young lord's shoulder in an impulsive gesture of

friendship and returned to his place at the sled's panel. Telis stared

out into the night, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness. The idea

of actually seeing Dorliss still enchanted him and, even though he was

arriving trussed up like a fowl for the slaughter, the experience

promised to be a rich one. He recalled many arguments with Gorla

about the probable existence of the Temple City. He had contended

that invisibility was impossible, and Gorla in his young scientist's

enthusiasm had covered sheets and sheets of vellum with strange

mathematical symbols to prove that a light-shielding field could be

created.

Telis smiled thinly. If Dorliss was near, and it seemed to be, then a

light shield must surely exist ... for he could see nothing but desert

below in the moonlight.

The aircraft trembled slightly as the pilot flared out his long glide,

and with a breathtaking suddenness, the stars and the moon vanished,

leaving only a sable blackness around them. Down again, the sled

plunged, and after several moments, the glide flattened again. For a

minute it hovered, and then it dropped sharply, and there was a hissing

sound as the runners touched the ferric sand. They were down.

A company of Temple Guardsmen bearing torches appeared out of the

darkness, and Telis was freed from the deck-rings. Respectfully, but

firmly, he was taken into custody and marched across the gritty soil of

the landing field toward a lighted gate in the distance.

The light shield must have been impervious to moonlight, or perhaps

it was made transparent during the hours of daylight. Telis never

knew. But as they made their way toward the gate, the sun rose with

its usual, breathtaking suddenness. The thin air of Laurr precluded

any dawn or twilight and, when the sun burst over the horizon, the

transition from blackness to day was done with shocking speed. It was a

phenomenon that Telis had seen every morning of his six haads, but this

time the effect was different. For never before had Telis seen such a

city as marvelled Dorliss!

* * * * *

And, as though created in a trice out of the very stuff of darkness,

Dorliss sprang into being before his astounded eyes. The flood of

golden light from the sun touched the spires and minarets of an

enchanted city, casting shards of amber light into the deep canyons

between the slender towers. Unable to help himself, Telis paused to

wonder. His gaze found the great golden dome that housed the Mirror of

the Sky ... fabled place where legend said that a man might sit and see

the glories of the heavens reflected on a monster glass of polished

obsidian, figured by the cunning hands of artificers dead over eight

thousand haads!

Telis had long been a scoffer ... but here was proof! And farther

off, basking in the warm morning light, there was the Fist of the

Goddess ... a great spire capped by a mammoth sphere. This was the

machine that the stories claimed could shatter even the smallest

particles of matter and suck out of them the pure force that was the

essence of their being, even as had the ancients long ago. It was from

a similar machine, the Temple Priests avowed, that the hellish missiles

of the first eight Water Wars had been fashioned ... the terrible

weapons that had left the once great cities of Laurr in molten, ghastly

heaps of slag, later to be covered over and obliterated by the steadily

rising tide of rust from the deserts.

And here it all was before him! Here was Dorliss, City of the Temple!

Stunned by beauty and overwhelmed by nearness to the might of the

ancients, Telis stumbled along toward the gate. For the moment, his

own plight was forgotten in the singing glory of seeing fabled Dorliss

and knowing that there was truth in the tales the Priests told to the

people who cried for life in a world slated for death.

Surely, Telis thought, if Laurr can be saved from extinction, the

workers of such miracles as these could save it!

The thought of Laurr brought him up sharply. It brought back a cold

awareness of his purpose ... of his will to escape and rejoin the

Maldia in its attack on the invading Tellurians. The attack that should

at this moment be under way!

Whatever happened to him in this fairy city, Telis swore by the Goddess

herself that he would not allow himself to forget his duty. Surely,

such wonders as these were not meant to be shared with the barbarians

from across the void!

The thought remained with him as he was escorted into the city, and

along wide thoroughfares heavily travelled with sith-drawn traffic.

Above, an occasional air-sled passed, but in the main the city's

travelling was done on foot or by means of the ubiquitous sith ... a

six-legged, docile, great-hearted beast that was the sole remaining

animal of its size left on Laurr.

Telis was taken first to the anterooms of the Central Temple, where a

kindly-faced Third-Cycle Priest assigned him quarters. From there, he

was taken to the tall spire apparently reserved for sudden guests of

the Temple.

In respectful silence, he was freed of his bonds and left alone in

a room such as he had never dreamed of occupying in his own border

fortress ... or even in the palace of the Laurr of Laurr himself.

One curving wall was made entirely of glass, and it faced the city to

the west and the desert to the north, so that the whole magnificent

panorama stretched out before him like a framed picture. And the

furnishings! By the Goddess! He had not dreamed that the sombre

scientist-priests of the Temple did themselves so well! Suspecting

the presence of listening devices or peep-holes, he snooped. He found

nothing. A soft canopied bed waited invitingly, reminding him that

the only rest he had had had been the stupor induced by the stun-gun;

and a table laden with refreshments and wines stood in the center of

the deep-pile carpet. What a difference from the stone floors and the

draughty keeps to which he was accustomed!

Recalling that he had not eaten for some time, he fell to on the laden

table. And then, as weariness stole over him, he laid himself fully

dressed on the wide bed to rest and await whatever came next. Telis

was a soldier and, like all soldiers everywhere, he ate first, rested

next, and was content to await developments in all the comfort that his

surroundings could afford him.

For a prisoner, he thought with a wry smile, I am certainly being

treated royally. By the Goddess! How would I be treated if I were a

friend?

At last the strain of the night's events took its toll on him, and the

young Lord of Lars slept as the Temple City of Dorliss awoke to its

many and varied tasks....

* * * * *

The pointer on his chronometer stood at the twenty second hour and the

sun was low on the horizon when Telis was awakened by a liveried escort

at his bedside.

With a respectful bow, the man indicated that Telis should follow him,

and the young lord trailed him through the door, satisfied that within

a very short time he would be before someone in authority here. His

mind was full of thoughts concerning the attack on the camp that by

this time the Maldia must surely have completed, unless....

Unless his disappearance had disrupted the carefully laid plans that

had taken the secret organization so long to complete. In that case,

agents would have to be sent out again among the Guski desert tribesmen

to instruct the chieftains concerning a later date to be used for the

attack, and a different leader would of course have to be picked. Telis

grimaced. It would be Brand, naturally. And all the high officers

of the Maldia would be convinced that Telis had defaulted, for they

had no inkling that the Temple was involved or that it even knew of

the projected attack. One way or another Telis of Lars would be the

scapegoat.... Prince Brand would see to that!

Telis' guide led him out of the spire and into a sith-drawn car. The

great beast stepped smartly along, its six padded paws soundless on the

verdant moss of the thoroughfare.

As they neared the center of the city, Telis saw that he was being

taken to the Central Temple, a graceful structure of alabaster

whiteness. The guide halted the sith before the Temple and Telis

alighted. An attendant came forward to take charge of the sith, and the

escort motioned Telis into the building.

They passed the portal and entered into a fairyland within a fairyland,

for the inner rooms of the Central Temple were by far the most wondrous

in all Dorliss. There were panelled walls of purest quartz crystal,

faceted to reflect the light in enchanting beams of polychromatic

loveliness. And the mosaic floors depicted in silver and gold the

scenes of historical significance from the long life of the Temple. A

thousand other things there were that filled the young warrior with

awe ... for mere beauty per se had long ago passed the surface of

Laurr, and only here in the inmost sanctum of the Temple could such

things survive and be cherished.

Another thing Telis noticed also. Though guards abounded _outside_

the city, he had seen but a handful within the walls. He remembered

something Gorla had told him long ago: that science could not really

thrive against a militaristic background, and that was why so much of

the ancient lore was lost when the planet became nothing more than a

battleground. Plainly, the city of Dorliss was not ruled by force,

and--a break for freedom might not be the impossible achievement that

he had begun to imagine it.

Now they were within a long hallway, bare but for the crystal

panelling. From somewhere came the whispering of plaintive music.

It tinted the air with a gentle nostalgia that found a strangely

responsive chord in Telis. He was told that the sound came from another

chamber where a Priest was engaged in research on sounds and their

effect on human emotions. It had been so long since music existed on

Laurr that even this knowledge had been forgotten....

The guide led Telis on and on, past the long hall and through many

portals that opened at last into a small circular room devoid of any

sort of ornamentation. In the center of this room, a man sat at a table

that rose in graceful lines out of the floor itself. He was old, old.

Telis stared at the man. He wore the sable robes and the insigne of

the Seventh Cycle, the topmost rank of priest-scientists. Recognition

came, too. This man was not merely a Seventh Cycle Priest ... he was

actually the High Superior of the Temple. The old eyes and kindly face,

the long white beard and sable robe were the same as he remembered from

a hundred solideographs in a hundred provincial Temples.

Telis would have thrown himself to his knees before the spiritual head

of all Laurr had he not suddenly remembered that he was a prisoner

here, abducted like any thieving Commoner.

He looked stolidly around the room then, and for the first time he saw

the girl.

A noble of Laurr had plenty of opportunity to become something of a

connoisseur in the matter of woman flesh, but the moment that Telis'

eyes found the girl's he knew that here was something special.

Her hair was black and her skin fair, a combination seldom found on

this side of the planet where bronze skin and brown hair were almost

universal, but Telis had heard tales of such women from brother

officers who had carried the Laurr's battles of unification to the

southern hemisphere. The clothes this woman wore were strange ... a

blouse covered her where most Laurrian women went nude, and a short

skirt descended from a harness not unlike Telis' own. Her belt was

hung with various pouches and holsters. And over all, she affected a

transparent jumper of stuff like flexible glass that covered her from

neck to ankles like a chrysalis. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, and she

seemed either ill or terribly disheartened ... or both.

* * * * *

She stood in silence, a liveried escort at her side, to all intents

and purposes a prisoner like himself, for she wore no swords and to

be disarmed upon Laurr was to be a prisoner ... even the peace-loving

Temple Priests packed their full complement of weapons.

There was an air about the girl that touched Telis deeply, a

deep-seated strength and quality, even through her obvious illness or

discomfort. He wondered at her crime. Heresy, perhaps? He had never

heard of the Temple arresting heretics ... the Water Goddess was more a

wishful personification than a demanding deity. But perhaps this girl

was something special in the matter of heretics as she obviously was in

the matter of beauty.

But the explanation was not a satisfying one. There was something

more. Then it came to him like a swordthrust. Could the girl be ... a

Tellurian? Was it possible?

The intoned words of his escort interrupted his thought.

"Reverend High Superior, here is Lord Telis of Lars, Captain-General of

the Laurr of Laurr's Armies."

The Superior inspected him kindly enough. "I have heard that two of our

guardsmen were injured in taking young Telis. How are they now?"

"They suffered wounds, one critical," reported the escort. "Both will

live, Reverend Superior."

The old man nodded. "It is well." Then he turned to Telis and he added:

"How well you fight for your prejudices, my son!"

Telis remained stiffly erect and silent, his eyes hard on the unknown

girl. For the moment all he could do was watch and wait for an

opportunity to escape.

"You will be interested to know, My Lord of Lars," said the High

Superior mildly, "that the scheduled attack on the Tellurian camp was

not launched this morning...."

Telis relaxed slightly. Then there was still a chance to redeem himself

in the eyes of his fellow nobles. Perhaps soon.

"... but you are no longer chieftain of that abominable organization,

the Maldia, for which you should give thanks to the Goddess! At the

moment your so-called friends are meeting to replace you with one

Prince Brand," the High Superior continued. "They have declared at his

instigation that you are a coward and a traitor. Those are the actions

of your fine friends. What do you think of them?"

Telis felt a stirring of anger. "If what you say is true, Reverend

Superior, I have the Temple and you to thank for my disgrace."

The High Superior looked reproachful. "Like the rest of your caste," he

sighed wearily, "you are blind. I suppose it will be an impossibility

to convince you that your Maldia is doing infinitely more harm than

good with its senseless code of slaughter and more slaughter. That is

all it will ever succeed in bringing to our suffering planet!"

Telis held his peace. There was nothing he could say to refute the High

Superior that was not based on obedience to life-long prejudices, and

he somehow felt that those arguments would be wasted on such a man as

now sat before him.

"Yet I must try," the old priest continued, "to teach you the

difference between rightful pride and sinful, destructive arrogance.

I must try to make you see that these Tellurians you profess to hate

so...."

Here Telis' eyes sought the girl, but her expression told him nothing.

He looked back at the High Superior.

"... that you profess to hate so are now Laurr's only chance for

survival."

"Words," Telis said coldly.

The old man nodded slowly. "But true words. Words that can bring life

instead of death. Better words than you will ever hear in that barbaric

Maldia!" His old eyes seemed to bore through Telis now, stripping him

bare of intellectual barriers and misunderstanding. "We could," the

priest mused, "turn you over to our psychologists and let them drive

the devils out of your mind...." He paused thoughtfully. "But no. That

would not be the same. You, yourself, must come to understand. You must

be allowed to learn of your mistaken ways without interference."