ttern before it so that the faint radiance streaming from the tiny
sun, gleamed on the grayness of the wall. There was a grating, as from
metal long unused, and a block fell back, opening a narrow door to them.

Before she stepped within, the priestess lifted her hand above her head
and when she withdrew it, the sun and planets remained to form a diadem
just above the intricate braiding of her dull red hair. As she moved
into the secret way, the five orbs swung with her, and in the darkness
there the sun glowed richly, sending out a light to guide their feet.

They were at the top of a stairway and the hollow clang of the stone as
it moved back into place behind them echoed through a gulf which seemed
endless. But that too was as the chronicles had said and Varta knew no
fear.

How long they journeyed down into the maw of the mountain and, beyond
that, into the womb of Erb itself, Varta never knew. But, when feet were
weary and she knew the bite of real hunger, they came into a passageway
which ended in a room hollowed of solid rock. And there, preserved in
the chest in which men born in the youth of Memphir had laid them, Varta
found that which would keep her safe on the path she must take. She put
aside the fine silks, the jeweled cincture, which had been the badge of
Asti's service and drew on over her naked body a suit of scaled skin,
gemmed and glistening in the rays of the small sun. There was a hood to
cover the entire head, taloned gloves for the hands, webbed, clawed
coverings for the feet--as if the skin of a giant, man-like lizard had
been tanned and fashioned into this suit. And Varta suspected that that
might be so--the world of Erb had not always been held by the human-kind
alone.

There were supplies here too, lying untouched in ageless containers
within a lizard-skin pouch. Varta touched her tongue without fear to a
powdered restorative, sharing it with Lur, whose own mailed skin would
protect him through the dangers to come.

She folded the regalia she had stripped off and laid it in the chest,
smoothing it regretfully before she dropped the lid upon its shimmering
color. Never again would Asti's servant wear the soft stuff of His
Livery. But she was resolute enough when she picked up the food pouch
and strode forward, passing out of the robing chamber into a narrow way
which was a natural fault in the rock unsmoothed by the tools of man.

But when this rocky road ended upon the lip of a gorge, Var