It was very silent in the catacomb. The dreadful eyes studied Trevor, and for just a moment his hatred was tempered by a strange pity as he thought what it must be like for the brain, the intelligence behind those eyes, already entombed, and knowing it. "_A long living and a long dying. The blessing and the curse of my people._" The words were soundless, spoken inside his brain. Trevor started violently. Almost he turned to flee, remembering the torture of that moment in the canyon, and then he found that while he had been staring, a force as gentle and stealthy as the gliding of a shadow had already invaded him. And he was forbidden. "At this range I do not need the sun-stones," murmured the silent voice within him. "Once I did not need them at all. But I am old." Trevor stared at the stony thing that watched him, and then he thought of Jen, of Hugh lying dead with a dead hawk in the dust, and the strangeness left him, and his bitter passion flared again. "So you hate me as well as fear me, little human? You would destroy me?" There was a gentle laughter inside Trevor's mind. "I have watched generations of humans die so swiftly. And yet I am here, as I was before they came, waiting." "You won't be here forever," snarled Trevor. "These others like you died. You will!" "Yes. But it is a slow dying, little human. Your body chemistry is like that of the plants, the beasts, based upon carbon. Quick to grow. Quick to wither away. Ours was of another sort. We were like the mountains, cousin to them, our body cells built of silicon, even as theirs. And so our flesh endures until it grows slow and stiff with age. But even then we must wait long, very long, for death." Something of the truth of that long waiting came to Trevor, and he felt a shuddering thankfulness for the frailty of human flesh. "I am the last," whispered the silent voice. "For a while I had companionship of minds, but the others are all gone before me, long ago." Trevor had a nightmare vision of Mercury, in some incalculable future eon, a frozen world taking its last plunge into the burned-out sun, bearing with it these endless rows of alabaster shapes, sitting in their chairs of stone, upright in the dead blackness underneath the ice. He fought back to reality, clutching his hatred as a swimmer clings to a plank, his voice raw with passion and bitterness as he cried out. "Yes, I'll destroy you if I can! What else could you expect after what you've done?" "Oh, no, little human, you will not destroy me. You will help me." Trevor glared. "Help you? Not if you kill me!" "There will be no killing. You would be of no use to me dead. But alive you can serve me. That is why you were spared." "Serve you--like _them_?" He swung to point to the waiting Korins, but the Korins were not waiting now, they were closing in on him, their hands reaching for him.