Memory of Kari's phrase came back to Stuart now. And with it, as though he had somehow unbarred a locked gate, opened it a mere crack, came a--a whispering. Not audible. Faint, faraway, like the shadow of a wind rustling ghosts of autumn leaves, the murmur rose and fell ... calling him. The scarlet cloak moved ... writhed ... flowed more closely about him. Fainter grew the voices. Stuart strained after them. His soul sprang up ... reaching toward those friendly, utterly inhuman whispers that came from nowhere. A dull lethargy numbed him. The cloak drew tighter.... He ignored it. Deep in the citadel of his mind, he made himself receptive, all his being focused on that--that strange calling from beyond. And, suddenly, there were words.... "_Derek Stuart. Can you hear us? Answer!_" His stiff lips could not speak, but his thoughts formed an answer. And, rising and falling as though the frequency of that incredible telepathy pulsed and changed continually, the message came-- "We have lost. You have lost too, Stuart. But we will stay with you--we _must_ stay now--and perhaps your death will be easier because of that...." "Who are you?" he thought, oddly awed by the personality he sensed behind that voice that was really two voices. "There is little time." The--sound?--faded into a thin whisper, then grew stronger. "The cloak makes it hard for us to communicate with you. And now we can give you none of our power at all. It is a monstrous thing--a blasphemy such as only the Aesir would create. Half-alive--it makes an artificial synapse between the individual and outside mental contacts. We cannot help you--" "Who are you?" "We are the Protectors. Listen now, Stuart, for soon you must walk the Long Orbit with the others. We removed some of your memories, so the Aesir could not read your mind and have time to prepare themselves--we hoped we might destroy them this time. But--we have failed again. Now--we give you your memories back." Like a slowly rising tide, Stuart's past began to return. He did not question how this was done; he was too busy lifting the veil that had darkened his mind since--since that night at the Singing Star in New Boston. A few drinks with the tired-eyed man, and then darkness-- But the curtain was lifting now. He remembered.... * * * * * He remembered a tiny, underground room, with armed men--not many of them--staring at him. A voice that said, "You must either join us or die. We dare run no risks. For hundreds of years a tiny band of us has survived, only because the Aesir did not know we existed." "Rebels?" he had asked. "Sworn to destroy the Aesir," the man told him, and an answering glow burned briefly in the eyes of the others. Stuart laughed. "You have courage," the man said. "You'll need it. I know why you laugh. But we don't fight alone. Have you ever heard of the Protectors?" "Never."