An hour had gone by and he still could not quite believe it. He had
left the cell behind him and the five eternal days of waiting. He stood
on a terrace high above the city. It was night, and the burning moons
were brilliant in the sky. The wind from the sea had the clean sting
of wine, but it was not like the sea winds he remembered, it was new
and strange, intensely thrilling. Around him the tall slim towers rose
upward toward the moons, and far below the shining web of streets was a
pattern of sensual beauty, many-colored, sounding, alive.