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Updated: May 8, 2025
Chick had heard enough from the Geos to guess her identity: one of the queens, the Aradna; frail, delicate, a blue-eyed maiden, with a waving mass of straw-gold hair hanging loosely about her shoulders.
The Jan Lucar spoke to the Geos: "We had best take the June Bug of the Rhamda Avec." Watson thought it best to say nothing, show nothing. The Jan ran up to one of the glistening affairs, and without the slightest noise he spun it gracefully around, running it out into the centre of the mosaic floor. "I presume," apologised the Geos, "that you have much finer aircraft in your world." Aircraft!
Watson knew that the moment had come to test his luck to the uttermost. There was but one thing to do; he did it. He said to the Rhamda Geos, in a tone of the utmost indifference: "I am willing." Geos was distinctively relieved, "It is good, my lord. Tell us in simple words. Describe the Jarados just as you have seen him, just as you would have us see him. Afterwards we shall open the Leaf."
"I I must have time to think. Coming across the border that way you must give me time. You were telling me about the Rhamdas in general; now tell me about Avec in particular." Geos nodded as though he could understand the fog that beclouded Watson's mind. "The Rhamda Avec is, or was, the wisest of them all; the head and the chief, and by far the most able.
Geos caught his breath; he leaned forward and touched the Jan Lucar. "Wait," he said in an awed tone. "Wait a moment. It has never come before, but we can expect it now." And even as he spoke, something wonderful happened. From the base of the column two other streaks, one red and the other bright green, cut out through the blackness on either side.
The three streams of light ran up and up, as though they would pierce the heavens; the eye could not follow their ends. All in utter silence, nothing but those beams of glorified light, their reality a hint of power, of life and wisdom of the certainty of things. Plainly it had a tremendous significance in the minds of the Geos and the Lucar. Then came the climax.
There was but one way to find out. "Come! Lead the way, Geos; let us take a look at your world!" Presently the three men were standing at the door of a vast room, one entire side of which was wide open to the outer air. It was filled by a number of queer, shining objects. At first glance Chick took them to be immense beetles.
There was a subconscious sound that still lingered in his memory; a sound full-toned, flooding, enveloping. Was there any connection "'The Temple of the Leaf, you call it, sir. I seem to remember having heard a bell. Is there such a thing in that temple?" The Rhamda Geos smiled, his eyes brightening. "It is sometimes called the Temple of the Bell." "Ah!"
Reasonably enough, Geos, with some smattering of his superior's wisdom, should accept Watson in the same way. And then, the Jarados: at every moment his name had cropped up. Who was he? So far he had heard no word that might be construed as a clue. The great point, just now, was that the Rhamda Geos accepted him as a spirit, as the fact and substance promised by Avec. But where was the doctor?
She did not explain; but Watson knew that he was in the midst of a battle which was fought with noiseless and terribly efficient weapons so efficient that there were no wounded to give voice to pain. Before he could ask a question a familiar voice sounded out of the darkness at his side. "Where is the Geos?" "Here, Bar MacPherson," answered the Rhamda. "Good! It is well you came, sir.
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