Grim looked where her finger pointed. On the lower edges of the rock cliff he could see bright crimson splashes as though paint had been slapped on the stone. The red band formed a huge oval. He saw the tall needles lifting from the cliff. It was not rock as he had thought before the crash. It was a metal spire ending in a globe of interlaced wires and metal ribbons. "Looks like an energy broadcaster," he muttered. Then he turned toward the girl. "Where can I see this Kohonnes of yours? What's he like?" "He is All. He guides his people and shows them the way to a better, easier life. But some of his people do not want to wait--they want to be as powerful as Kohonnes before they are ready. And Althaya--the Red One--she is worse than any of them. Even now she is in special favor with the All. She knows somehow _before_ the breath-storms come. She can walk freely across Stormland. I and others like me must run between the markers, for we are never sure when the god may breathe again." Grim felt he was in the middle of a surrealistic nightmare. He wondered if he were dead, still crumpled up in his wrecked spacer. Or better, dreaming. He looked at the obscenely humped ground, and shook his head. "Honey, you have a plenty mixed-up man on your hands. If I could see this Kohonnes, talk with him--" Tlokine smiled and nodded. "I will take you to him. I feel sure he will be glad to see you." "I hope," whispered Grim under his breath. * * * * * _It was gloomy in the black-walled Temple. The girl with the red hair fanning down across her naked back shuddered. She could never quite overcome that stab of superstitious fear_-- "_I am displeased, Althaya. I had counted on better things from you._" "_Your will is the Law, Kohonnes._" "_See to it, then._" _The girl bowed low until her crimson hair fell down over her head to the basalt floor. She seemed subservient, but there was a ruthless smile on her hidden lips._ * * * * * Grim Thorssen found this world a land of magic. Twice now, in his journey to the god Kohonnes, he had sought refuge within the red ovals with Tlokine. He had seen shapes rear up from loamy ground, assume fey forms and dissolve, as a sea-wave rises and breaks against a cliff. Trees enchanted themselves before him; became tall, towering rods of wood; became thin, twisting things crawling along the grasses. It was like watching a world in its borning birthpangs. It was beautiful and eerie and frightening, all at once. "They used to tell tales of magicians to me when I was a boy," he said to Tlokine. "I feel as though I'd been transplanted right into one of those stories." "It is Kohonnes' breath," answered the girl, putting a hand on his shoulder to get to her feet. "But hurry now. We must go fast. Althaya may be riding with her men in this region."