"Now," fluted the creature, turning and fixing her with golden, freewheeling eyes, "what brings a tourist" (the word was a curse) "here at this hour?" "L-love," she gulped, hardly knowing what she said. "I-I mean, I wanted to find out if anything real was left. And, well, I ran away from the hotel. They'll be coming after me, I suppose." "Don't fret. Martians can play tricks with time. I'll return you to your room well before they get here." "You--you're not just another, fancier, robot?" "I'm alive enough." He bowed with a sweep that seemed to invest him with wings. "Pitaret Mura, at your service. A princeling of sorts. An iconoclast. And an atavist like you." "There are others here?" Her eyes grew round. "Most of the others have finished with this outgrown eyrie and are away on larger affairs. Only I return with a few friends once each year to sing of past glories and weep over present desecrations." "Two ceremonial tears?" she asked with a return of bitterness. There was something in his attitude that she found disquieting. "Many more than two. But...." he shrugged angrily, "I grow tired of weeping. On this visit I plan to wipe out you little humans who foul the nest of my ancestors." "How?" She gripped his arm, fear racing through her. "Tomorrow all this junk--" he nodded his handsome head at the robots--"will have been replaced by real Martians ... youngsters out for a lark with me. We'll tend shop, make jewelry and all that until I give a signal. Perhaps this shrine would be the best place. When it's crowded, just at sunset. Then we pounce!" Mura ruffled himself up and sprang at her so convincingly that she shrieked. "How juvenile!" she managed to laugh shakily. "What did you say, human?" The Pitaret was taken aback by this unexpected thrust. "I said your plan is childish!" She stamped her foot. "So you cut the throats of a few stupid people. Then Earth sends up cobalt bombs and blows this cradle of Martian civilization to smithereens. The others won't like that, even if they are occupied with larger affairs. You would be in real trouble." "Hmmm!" He looked at her with new respect and a faint tinge of uncertainty. "But some punishment is justified. Even you can see that." "Yes," she admitted, wrinkling her nose at him, now that the worst was over. "This place is a horror. And we tourists are horrors too, for having let ourselves be taken in by it. But death isn't punishment, just an ending." "I hadn't thought of it that way." Mura slipped an arm around her shoulders and looked down at her impishly. "_You_ suggest a fitting punishment then." * * * * * Here was the final test. If she could keep the hold that she had somehow gained over this immature superman, horrible things might be averted. Her thoughts raced in circles. "Martians can play tricks with time?" she asked at last.