"Grim! Grim Thorssen!" Tlokine lay many feet from his safety zone, twisted and huddled, the Change having its will of her. He knew she couldn't take that any longer--and live. He felt sweat break out all over him. He had to go out there and bring her in. Grim closed his eyes and ran for her. The Change caught him, shook him, tortured him. Grim fought with his body and his will; put a hand on her and dragged. He brought her in as a wolf might bring in the carcass of a deer; slowly, inch by inch. Tlokine was almost dead when she crumpled inside the marker. Grim worked over her frantically. The Change was subsiding. She opened her slant brown eyes. Grim cried, "They'll be coming for us. The storm is almost over. We have to run for it." Tlokine whispered, "The stables. We'll need horses." * * * * * They made a dash before the Change was through. There was pain, but nothing compared to what they had undergone. Grim saw Randolph on the edge of the marker, howling with rage. He was quivering with the eagerness to set out after them, but the Storm deterred him. Inside a huge oval of red splashings that stretched as far as he could see, the white-walled stables stood. Grim threw open the low oak doors and ran inside. He hunted for the horses he wanted. He scanned their back and chests, sought the not too muscular neck of the racing horse. He went swiftly, making his eyes perform snap judgments. He drew out a chestnut and a bay. He saddled them, helped Tlokine up. Seizing a quirt from the stable wall, he drove the other horses ahead of him, out beyond the red markers where the world of Stormland once more brooded quietly, its landscape new and more spectacular than before. * * * * * _The Thing that they called Kohonnes was dead. Its metal sides and glassite screens were polished and bright. Moments before it had been living, humming and glowing with the energy that fed it, bringing the Storm and the Change across the world that held it._ _A man moved his hand on the last dial. Inside the machine something clicked. The man turned away and went slowly down the marble steps...._ * * * * * Crouched low on the withers of the bay, Grim rode for his life. A little ahead of him, Tlokine pummeled her chestnut with sandalled heels. Grim turned in the saddle and stared behind him. There was no one in sight--yet. Tlokine cried, "We could make better time if we knew when the storms would come. Not knowing, we have to stay close to the islands, instead of cutting across toward the Dark Temple." "And Althaya--she knows! She can come straight for us. The warning that she gets comes in time for her to go toward an island and make it before the Change comes. Is that what you mean?" Tlokine nodded. Grim muttered, "Our lead doesn't mean much, then. They'll round up the horses we scattered. They'll catch us before we can get to the Temple."