It was Songeen--almost, again, as he remembered her, almost human. It was Songeen, small, delicate, unreal, but sweetly feminine--almost human. It was Songeen, but with something added, changed, oddly blended into both form and personality. "I tried to save you," she murmured. "I tried, but could not reach you. My knowledge is incomplete. I thought you were weak, confused, too frightened and disturbed to be changed easily. But you were strong, and your violence was a challenge to it. Only the Masters could understand. They saved you--not I. They intervened in time." "The Masters!" Newlin glanced round, quickly, warily. "They are here?" "Not here--now. But they saved you. I did not know all the dangers. They--not I--" "Saved me from what--death?" "No--worse. And now they say you must go back. At once. The Masters urge haste." * * * * * Newlin tasted bitterness on his lips. "Orders from headquarters. Well, I've been kicked out of better places--but few more interesting. Too bad I forgot my brass knuckles." Physically, he tried to rise. Every bone and muscle ached. But it could have been worse. He seemed intact. Hints of vagrant color rippled over his visible skin, but he sensed neither pain nor menace from them. Songeen bent over him. Her arm supported him in sitting position. It was unnecessary, but the sensation of contact was pleasant. He yielded to her ministrations and looked about. It was still the forest, crystalline, murmurous--but now muted. The same glary, unpleasant light beat down from the same impossible sky. Storming, eery colors flowed infinite mutations of form through the crystal spectres of the maze. And the tinkle of myriad glass wind bells held a maddening overtone. He had thought, somehow, that it would be different. That it would have changed, subtly, as had Songeen. But from a brief survey, nothing had changed. The tumult had faded, become bearable--but identity remained. Disappointed, he rose slowly, and felt her strong arm clasp about him. He felt clumsy, off-balance, but not weak. If anything, he was stronger. Stronger, and more cleanly, clearly alive than he had felt before. "Come," urged Songeen. "I will take you back to the portal." "Back--to that?" Newlin struggled with the futility of words. He was not sure what he wanted, let alone what he wanted to say. That insinuating crystalline clatter got inside his brain, scattered thought. Songeen caught a stirring of rebellion in him and sensed his mental confusion. "Don't fear the hunters," she said. "There are other doorways, and you can issue onto some other planet, if you wish. Try not to think, or even feel."