He sat up and made a quick survey of his surroundings. Then the girl of the--no, it hadn't been a dream--emerged from an archway with the lemur on her shoulder. It made him think of stories he had read about witches of unearthly beauty and the uncannily intelligent animals, familiars, that served them. "Hey, where am I?" he demanded. She said something in her unfamiliar language. "Who are you?" he asked, this time with gestures. She pointed to herself. "Krasna," she said. He pointed to himself. "Eldon. Eldon Carmichael." "El-ve-don?" she asked just as eagerly as when she had found him, half as though correcting him. He shook his head. "Just Eldon." Her eyes clouded and she frowned. After a moment she spoke again, and again he shook his head. "Sorry, no savvy," he declared. She snapped her fingers as though remembering something and hurried from the room, returning with a small globe of cloudy crystal. She motioned him to lie back, and for a minute or two rubbed the ball vigorously against the soft, smooth skin of her forearm. Then she held it a few inches above his eye and gestured that he was to look at it. The crystal glowed, but not homogeneously. Some parts became brighter than others, and of different colors. Patterns formed and changed, and watching them made him feel drawn out of himself, into the crystal. The strange girl started talking--talking--talking in an unhurried monotone. Gradually scattered words began to form images in his mind. Pictures, some of them crystal clear but with their significance still obscure, others foggy and amorphous. There were people and--things--and something so completely and utterly vile that even the thought made his brain cells cringe in fear of uncleansable defilement. It must have been hours she talked to him, for when he came out of the globe and back into himself her voice was tired and there were wrinkles of strain across her forehead. She was watching him intently and he suspected he had been subjected to some form of hypnosis. "Where am I? How did I get here?" he asked, and realized only when the words were out that he was speaking something other than English. Krasna did not answer at once. Instead a look of unutterable sadness stole over her face. And then she was weeping bitterly and uncontrollably. Eldon was startled and embarrassed, not understanding but wishing he could do something, anything, to help her. Crying females had always disturbed him, and she looked so completely sad and--and defeated. The lemur-thing glowered at him resentfully. "What is it?" he asked. "You are not El-ve-don," she sobbed.