Across an open court, up a long staircase, and into the most central of the ziggurats which comprised Angkor Vat. Lake O'Brien said excitedly, "By golly, Sheila, your guess was right! You said this building was the Big Shot's council hall--remember? And Syd and I thought--Well, I'll be jiggered!" His voice choked to a hollow whisper. "Golly, look! The--the carvings come to life! Apes! Warrior apes!" For standing before the door of the chamber they approached, garbed in the trappings of men, casqued and helmed sandaled and bucklered, gripping their bronze-tipped spears in altogether humanoid fashion, stood two huge apes who snapped their arms to attention as the group neared! But even this marvel paled into insignificance in a moment. For now the great, carven doors of the council chamber swung open, exposing a throne-room of inconceivable grandeur. Ramey's first staggered gaze described trappings of fabulous wealth. Gold and ivory, teak and silver, ebony and the sparking luster of priceless gems. These things he saw and noted subconsciously. But at the moment they roused no wonder in him for there was--something else! A presence in the room that utterly robbed him of his breath. A man, seated on the golden throne. A man of Ramey's own height. An older man, gray of hair and lined of visage, now leaning forward curiously to greet them. A grave, quiet, kindly man, in all respects like the millions of humans living on the earth of Ramey's era. But for one thing. The flesh of this ruler was--_hyacinthine blue!_ CHAPTER VIII Rakshasi With a sort of detached wonder, Ramey noticed that the blue man did not rise from his throne to greet them. Even a ruler of men, the young airman thought dimly, should humble himself before gods. Then the conviction came to him that the ruler of Angkor did not consider them gods! Of their origin he had, could have, no knowledge. But it was obvious that he recognized them, somehow, for exactly what they were: human beings caught in a web of circumstances inexplicable even to themselves. So the blue lord's preoccupation was with the giant Ravana. To the amber-skinned one he addressed his questions. The spate of their conversation sped back and forth between them so swiftly that there was not even time for the attentive Sheng-ti to translate for his companions. But though the words of a conversation may be unintelligible, its tenor is ofttimes obvious to the careful witness. It became clear to Ramey that Ravana, at first polite in his salutation to the blue lord of Angkor, was becoming more presumptious and argumentative every minute. His shoulders became stiffer, straighter, more bold. Once he glanced back as if to assure himself that behind him ranged the solid phalanx of his warriors. His voice assumed a belligerent stridency, and an arrogant light emboldened his eyes.