Elai sat relaxed, calm, exalted. She had changed; she seemed closer to Ulan Dhor than to Ampridatvir; some subtle tie had been cut. "Let's go on," she said. "On and on and on—across the world, past the forests ..."

Ulan Dhor glanced at her sideways. She was very beautiful now—cleaner, finer, stronger than the women he had known in Kaiin. He said regretfully, "Then we would starve indeed—for neither of us has the craft to survive in the wilderness. And I am bound to seek the tablets . .."

She sighed. "Very well. We will be killed. What does it matter? All Earth dies ..."

Evening came, and they returned to Ampridatvir. "There," said Elai,

"there is the Temple of Cazdal and there the Temple of Pansiu."

Ulan Dhor dropped the boat low over the Temple of Pansiu. "Where is the entrance?"

"Through the arch—and every place holds a different danger."

"But we fly," Ulan Dhor reminded her.

He lowered the boat ten feet above the ground and slid it through the arch.

Guided by a dim light ahead, Ulan Dhor manoeuvered the boat down the dark passage, through another arch; and they were in the nave.

The podium where the tablet sat was like the citadel of a walled city.

The first obstacle was a wide pit, backed by a glassy wall. Then there was a moat of sulfur-colored liquid, and beyond, in an open space, five men kept a torpid watch. Undetected, Ulan Dhor moved the boat through the upper shadows and halted directly over the podium.

"Ready now," he muttered, and grounded the boat. The glistening tablet was almost within reach. He raised the dome; Elai leaned out, seized the tablet. The five guards gave an anguished roar, rushed forward.

"Back!" cried Ulan Dhor. He warded off a flying spear with his sword.

She drew back with the tablet, Ulan Dhor slammed the dome. The guards leapt on the ship, clawing at the smooth metal, beating at it with their fists. The ship rose high; one by one they lost their grip, fell screaming to the floor.

Back through the arch, down the back passageway, through the entrance and out into the dark sky. Behind them a great horn set up a crazy clangor.

Ulan Dhor examined his prize—an oval sheet of transparent substance bearing a dozen lines of meaningless marks.

"We have won!" said Elai raptly. "You are the Lord of Ampridatvir!"

"Half yet remains," said Ulan Dhor. "There is still the tablet in the Temple of Cazdal."

"But—it is madness! Already you have—"

"One is useless without the other."

Her wild arguments subsided only as they hovered over the arch into Cazdal's Temple.

As the boat glided through the dark gap it struck a thread which dropped a great load of stones from a chute. The first of these, striking the sloping side of the air-car, buffeted it away. Ulan Dhor cursed. The guards would be alert and watchful.

He drifted along at the very top of the passage, hidden in the murk.