For hour after hour the air-sled sped along through the smooth night air. The farther moon set and the madly racing nearer moon rose again in the west and charged insanely across the backdrop of the eternal stars. Telis could not see his chronometer, but he estimated that they had been travelling almost all night at the highest speed the sled could handle. The pulsing of the jet was a smooth, continuous purr. They were heading in a westerly direction, and after a bit of mental mathematics, Telis estimated that they must be very near the heart of the Great Red Desert and a long, long way from the capital.
As he struggled to keep from freezing, the young noble estimated his chances for survival on this strange flight. He found them dishearteningly slim. For some reason, the seemingly benevolent Temple had intervened harshly and forcefully in the plan to destroy the Tellurians. But it should have been apparent to the Priests that his abduction would not stop the attack. There were plenty of men to take his place. Brand, surely. Then why was he being held?
Perhaps the Temple did not wish that he should gain the sanction of the Laurr of Laurr for the Maldia's plan. But why abduction, then? Why not merely hold him prisoner until the attack was begun? The events of the night showed a great deal of careful planning and organization. Such things took time. And again, why? Telis had a strong suspicion that in some way the great fondness that the Laurr of Laurr had for him, and the correspondingly large influence he wielded because of it had more than a little to do with these strange and dangerous doings....
The motion of the air-sled as it slanted sharply downward interrupted his reverie. They were nearing their destination, and whatever was in store for him would not be long in materializing.
Gorla arose from his seat at the panel and cautiously made his way across the precariously canted deck. Reaching Telis' side, he knelt and brought his lips close to the young warrior's ear.
"We near our base, Telis, my friend," he shouted. "I beg of you to be prudent and to contain yourself when you are interviewed. The Temple elders are wise men and you will do well to listen and learn when they speak with you...."
Telis made an angry retort that the wind snatched from his lips and whirled away into the night.
"I know you are angry with me, Telis," the young Priest continued, "but you have made all this necessary. Remember, it is for Laurr!" He laid an arm across the prisoner's shoulders that Telis could not find the heart even in his anger to shrug off. "And," the Priest was smiling now, "you shall see Dorliss, Telis. Few laymen ever do...."
Dorliss! Then there was such a place! The legends told of it—a fabled city hidden from the sight of men by some mysterious power, where the Priests of the mighty Seventh Cycle cloistered themselves to study the oldest of the ancient riddles. Dorliss! Even the name had a magical sound! It was here that the Temple's finest minds were said to struggle in their quest to reclaim Laurr's air and water from the sea of rust that surrounded them....
Gorla squeezed the young lord's shoulder in an impulsive gesture of friendship and returned to his place at the sled's panel. Telis stared out into the night, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness. The idea of actually seeing Dorliss still enchanted him and, even though he was arriving trussed up like a fowl for the slaughter, the experience promised to be a rich one. He recalled many arguments with Gorla about the probable existence of the Temple City. He had contended that invisibility was impossible, and Gorla in his young scientist's enthusiasm had covered sheets and sheets of vellum with strange mathematical symbols to prove that a light-shielding field could be created.