A hard wind rose straight before my feet, lifting my cloak. I paused. I could only just see, narrowing my eyes, the sheer precipice over which my toes thrust unsupported.

I drew back with a cry the wind hurled deafening in my own ears, and ran on to the left, and back into the wood.

I passed the wood, and came on to the loneliest hill-top I’ve ever known. Black wind rushed past me and on over the valley. Queer things turned as they too rushed past, leered at me and were gone before I properly saw them.

The beat of hooves galloping, galloping across the valley.

I myself came down on to the hard road. It wound away, spasmodically lightning-lit, and amongst the gallop of the horses I could hear the strain of axles, the creak of wood, the crack of whips. Chariots! I must crouch hidden to watch them pass—for in Atlan all were enemies to me who had given Atlan such love.

First riders dashed past on the dark-shine of the road, their flaxen hair free, for though they had pulled their cloak-hoods up over their heads, their speed had tugged them off again. Those were Atlanteans, and here were the chariots they escorted. There were no torches, but by star-gleam and lightning-flash I saw the fair men standing in the first chariots. My pedlar, Juzd the regent! But I hesitated to run forward. Dark men in the next chariots that streamed in hurtling line up the road. And one, standing mighty behind his driver, his face hidden behind the bronze helm that made the eyes narrow and the nose thin and straight, in the fitful light of the gleam of a gold pelt over his wide shoulders—

I dashed out on the road even as the high-hub wheels blurred roaring past, the spray they made drenching me as much as the rain did.

“Wait! May!”

The wind tossed and tumbled my voice as though it were a plaything, a despised plaything.

A rider pulled his horse up plunging behind me. A hoof, fetlock hair swirling, just shaved my sodden hood. A voice cursed.

As more chariots passed, I could see now they were drawn by birds. I doubled over and retched.

“Well, who are you, what is it?” said the voice, still cursing. “You are no Atlantean,” I babbled at once.

“Big surprise, eh? Yes, we’ve got through at last, us from the other side, and your regent with us, we’re making for the capital by his invitation. You shut us out but you’re glad enough to welcome us at need. Out of the way. Questions later. The whole continent can ask its questions later.”

“Is that your General, in the gold sheepskin?”

“One thing I’ll say, you’ve sharp eyes to know it’s sheepskin. Yes, he’s all in style to ride into the Great City. A new Emperor must impress his people.”

“Emperor!”