n too much and had dreamed dreams
beyond the comprehension of his fellows. Somehow, Odin found himself
remembering a lecture about Addison, who probably knew as much as anyone
about the hearts of men, but upon being made second-high man in his
government could only stand tongue-struck in the presence of Parliament.

Then there was Ato. The months had changed him too. He stood tall
and lean, and there was a deep line running from each cheekbone down
his face. He looked older, but his eyes were piercing now, while his
father's were somber. Strife and hard work had sweated all the fat from
his bones. He seemed much stronger than when Odin had first met him.
But here was something more than strength. Ato had developed into a
first-class fighting man. Wolden could never have been a fighter.

There was something both terrifying and sad in the comparison. Ato looked
like a man who could calmly send a hundred-thousand to their deaths for
one objective, while Wolden would have theorized and rationalized until
the objective was lost. The old comparison between the impulsive executive
and the liberal arts man who has learned that there are only one or two
positive decisions available in all the world of thinking.

But each in his own way was glad to see Odin, and welcomed him back to the
ruins of Opal.

Then, just before the reunion was over, the clouds grew grayer and it began
to rain. As they got into the little car, Wolden told Odin that they would
have to circle the bay before going to the Tower on a ferry, since the
lower stories were still under water. The city had once been beautiful with
trees. Now they stood like gaunt skeletons, drowned by the sea water. Here
and there a few limbs struggled to put out their leaves. The rain was cold,
colder than Odin had ever felt in Opal before. He shivered, but there was
something more than the cold dankness of the air to make him shiver.

Then they came to the ferry, and the ferryman was so old and bent that Odin
looked twice at him to make sure that he wasn't one-eyed. He wasn't. So the
ferry creaked its way out to the Tower--to an improvised landing just
below the sixth-story windows. They climbed through the windows into a
huge room that seemed to be carved of fairy-foam, and behind them the rain
grew heavier and the thunder rolled in the distance and the lightning
flashed like witch-fires across the jaded sky.

* * * * *

Three days had passed