He pointed. "What is that?"

"It is a magic car. When a certain lever is pressed the wizardry of the older times gives it great speed. Rash young men ride them along the streets . . . See there," and she pointed to a somewhat similar hull toppled into the basin of a long, dry fountain. "That is another one of the ancient wonders—a craft with the power to fly through the air. There are many of them scattered through the city—on the towers, on high terraces, and sometimes, like this one, fallen into the streets."

"And no one flies them?" asked Ulan Dhor curiously.

"We are all afraid."

Ulan Dhor thought, what a marvel to own one of these air-cars! He stepped off the flowing road.

"Where are you going?" asked Elai anxiously, coming after him.

"I wish to examine one of these air-cars."

"Be careful, Ulan Dhor. They are said to be dangerous ..."

Ulan Dhor peered through the transparent dome, saw a cushioned seat, a series of little levers inscribed with characters strange to him and a large knurled ball mounted on a metal rod.

He said to the girl, "Those are evidently the guides to the mechanism

... How does one enter such a car?"

She said doubtfully, "This button will perhaps release the dome." She pressed a knob; the dome snapped back, releasing a puff of stagnant air.

"Now," said Ulan Dhor, "I will experiment." He reached within, turned down a switch. Nothing happened.

"Be careful, Ulan Dhor!" breathed the girl. "Beware of magic!"

Ulan Dhor twisted a knob. The car quivered. He touched another lever. The boat made a curious whining sound, jerked. The dome began to settle. Ulan Dhor snatched back his arm. The dome snapped into place over a fold of his gray cloak. The boat jerked again, made a sudden movement, and Ulan Dhor was dragged willy-nilly after.

Elai cried out, seized his ankles. Cursing, Ulan Dhor dropped out of his cloak, watched while the air-boat took a wild uncontrolled curvet, crashed against the side of a tower. It fell with another clang of colliding metal and stone.

"Next time," said Ulan Dhor, "I will.. ."

He became aware of a strange pressure in the air. He turned. Elai was staring at him, hand against her mouth, eyes screwed up as if she were repressing a scream.

Ulan Dhor glanced around the streets. The slowly moving people, Grays and Greens, had vanished. The streets were empty.

"Elai," said Ulan Dhor, "why do you look at me like that?"

"The red, in daylight—and the color of Pansiu on your legs—it is our death, our death!"

"By no means," said Ulan Dhor cheerfully. "Not while I wear my sword and ..."

A stone, coming from nowhere, crashed into the ground at his feet. He looked right and left for his assailant, nostrils flaring in anger.

In vain. The doorways, the arcades, the porticos were bare and empty.

Another stone, large as his fist, struck him between the shoulder-blades. He sprang around and saw only the crumble facade of ancient Ampridatvir, the empty street, the glistening gliding strip.