As she led me down corridors and staircases, I asked her why, if the tongue of Vashu were common, there should be such a thing as a languageteaching machine. She replied that it had been designed for use on other planets but, since the other planets in the solar system only appeared to be inhabited by animals, it had never been used.

She led me below ground. The cellars of the palace seemed to go down many levels, but at last we reached a place lighted by the same sort of dim bulb as the one in my room. These bulbs were also of Sheev manufacture, Shizala told me, and had once burned much brighter than they did now. The room was small and contained a single piece of equipment. It was large and made of metal I did not recognize—probably an alloy. It glowed a little, adding to the light in the room. It seemed to consist of a cabinet with an alcove moulded to accommodate the form of a seated human being.

I could see no other machinery and I would dearly have loved to strip the cabinet down to see what was inside—but curbed my impatience.

"Please sit there," said Shizala, indicating the cabinet. "According to what I have been told, the cabinet will be activated immediately you do so. You may feel yourself black out, but do not be disturbed."

I did as she asked and, sure enough, as soon as I was seated the cabinet began to hum softly. A cap came down from above and fitted itself over my head, then I began to feel dizzy and soon became unconscious.

I did not know how much time had passed until I came to, finding myself still seated in the now no longer activated cabinet. I looked at Shizala a little dazedly. My head was aching slightly.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Fine," I said, getting up.

But I had not said 'fine' at all, I realized. I had said vrazha—the Martian word that was its nearest equivalent.

I had spoken Martian!

"It works!" I cried. "What sort of machine is it that can achieve that so swiftly?"

"I do not know. We are content simply to use the things of the Sheev. We were warned in the far past never to tamper with their gifts since it might result in disaster for us! Their mighty civilization once suffered a disaster, but we have only a few legends which speak of it and they are bound up in talk of supernatural entities in whom we no longer believe."

Respecting what was evidently a deeply rooted custom never to question the Sheev inventions, I remained silent, though every instinct made me want to get at the language-teaching machine, probably a highly sophisticated computer containing an hypnotic device of some kind.