The women were intrusted with the finest jewel work, and with pride they showed the stranger their handiwork. At the far end of the hall was a wonderous thing in the making. One of the silver nets, which were the foundations of their robes, was fastened there and three of the women were putting small rose jewels into each microscopic setting. Here and there they had varied the pattern with tiny emeralds or flaming opals, so that the finished portion was a rainbow. One of the workers smoothed the robe and glanced up at Garin, a gentle teasing in her voice as she explained: "This is for the Daughter when she comes to her throne." The Daughter! What had the Lord of the Folk said? "This youth is fit to mate with the Daughter." But Urg had said that the Ancient Ones had gone from Tav. "Who is the Daughter?" he demanded. "Thrala of the Light." "Where is she?" The woman shivered and there was fear in her eyes. "Thrala lies in the Caves of Darkness." "The Caves of Darkness!" Did she mean Thrala was dead? Was he, Garin Featherstone, to be the victim of some rite of sacrifice which was designed to unite him with the dead? Urg touched his arm. "Not so. Thrala has not yet entered the Place of Ancestors." "You know my thoughts?" Urg laughed. "Thoughts are easy to read. Thrala lives. Sera served the Daughter as handmaiden while she was yet among us. Sera, do you show us Thrala as she was." The woman crossed to a wall where there was a mirror such as Urg had used for his language lesson. She gazed into it and then beckoned the flyer to stand beside her. The mirror misted and then he was looking, as if through a window, into a room with walls and ceiling of rose quartz. On the floor were thick rugs of silver rose. And a great heap of cushions made a low couch in the center. "The inner chamber of the Daughter," Sera announced. * * * * * A circular panel in the wall opened and a woman slipped through. She was very young, little more than a girl. There were happy curves in her full crimson lips, joyous lights in her violet eyes. She was human of shape, but her beauty was unearthly. Her skin was pearl white and other colors seemed to play faintly upon it, so that it reminded Garin of mother-of-pearl with its lights and shadows. The hair, which veiled her as a cloud, was blue-black and reached below her knees. She was robed in the silver net of the Folk and there was a heavy girdle of rose-shaded jewels about her slender waist. "That was Thrala before the Black Ones took her," said Sera. Garin uttered a cry of disappointment as the picture vanished. Urg laughed. "What care you for shadows when the Daughter herself waits for you? You have but to bring her from the Caves of Darkness--" "Where are these Caves--" Garin's question was interrupted by the pealing of the Cavern gong. Sera cried out: "The Black Ones!"