Presently two guards, bearing torches and careful of their steps, came to investigate the sound.

They passed directly below the boat, and Ulan Dhor hastened forward, through the arch into the nave. As in the Temple of Pansiu, the tablet gleamed in the middle of a fortress.

The guards were wide awake, nervously watching the opening.

"Boldness, now!" said Ulan Dhor. He sent the boat darting across the walls and pits and seething moat, settled beside the podium, snapped the dome back, sprang out. He seized the tablet as the guards came roaring forward, spears extended. The foremost flung his spear; Ulan Dhor struck it down and tossed the tablet into the boat.

But they were upon him; he would be impaled if he sought to climb within the boat. He sprang forward, hewed off the shaft of one spear, chopped at one man's shoulder on the back-sweep, seized the shaft of the third spear, and pulled the man into range of his sword point. The third guard fell back, shouting for help. Ulan Dhor turned, leapt into the boat. The guard rushed forward, Ulan Dhor whirled and met him with the point of his sword in his cheek. Spouting blood and wailing hysterically, the guard fell back. Ulan Dhor threw the lift lever; the boat rose high and moved toward the opening.

And presently the alarm horn at Cazdal's Temple was adding its harsh yell to the sound from across the city.

The boat drifted slowly through the sky.

"Look!" said Elai, grasping his arm. By torchlight men and women crowded and milled in the streets—Greens and Grays, panicked by the message of the horns.

Elai gasped. "Ulan Dhor! I see! I see! The men in Green! It is possible . . . Have they always been . . ."

"The brain-spell has broken," said Ulan Dhor, "and not only for you.

Below they see each other, too ..."

For the first time in memory, Greens and Grays looked at each other.

Their faces twisted, contorted. In the flicker of torches Ulan Dhor saw them drawing back in revulsion from each other, and heard the tumult of their cries: "Demon! . . . Demon! . . . Gray ghost! . . . Vile Green Demon!..."

Thousands of obsessed torch-bearers sidled past each other, glowering, reviling each other, screaming in hate and fear. They were all mad, he thought—tangled, constricted of brain ...

As by a secret signal, the crowd seethed into battle, and the hateful yells curdled Ulan Dhor's blood. Elai turned sobbing away. Terrible work was done, on men, women, children—no matter who the victim, if he wore the opposite color.

A louder snarling arose at the edge of the mob—a joyful sound, and a dozen shambling Gauns appeared, towering above the Greens and Grays.

They rended, tore, ripped, and insane hate melted before fear. Greens and Grays separated, and ran to their homes, and the Guans roamed the streets alone.

Ulan Dhor tore his glance away and held his forehead. "Was this my doing? . . . Was this a deed of mine?"