The High Superior sank back in his chair wearily. "I should have known," he muttered disgustedly. "Well, so be it, then. You will remain here in Dorliss until we are able to evolve some scheme for the protection of our friends. In time even you will see that we act for the best good of Laurr.
"These other-worldlings have narrowly averted on their own world the catastrophe of atomic war that wrecked ours. Hence, they are no longer a warrior race. They have devoted themselves to science in ways that we never knew even in the golden haads. Their technics can be our salvation, if we are only intelligent enough to accept their offered hand of friendship!"
Telis was listening with only half an ear now. A plan was forming in his mind. A plan of escape.
"... remember that the races of both Terra and Laurr are sprung from the loins of a single great transgalactic people," the High Superior was saying, "and together they might one day rule the Solar System. Think of it, Telis of Lars! Even the knowledge of interplanetary travel will be ours if we join in brotherhood with Terra! All the might of our Temple science could not achieve that in the short haads left to us ... but the Tellurians offer it now! And the only payment they ask is some of the deadly iron that eats away our atmosphere and drains us of our precious water!
"Think of these things, young sir, until next we speak."
The old man sank back, exhausted by his speech and made a sign that the audience was over. He knew somehow that he had failed ... and that other measures were now in order.
III
An hour before sunrise, Telis was awake and ready for action. He arose and dressed himself, broke his fast on the remains of his late evening meal, for he dared not guess how long it would be before he ate again. He banged at the door of his apartment until an attendant appeared, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
Telis made a long face. "I—I must see Brother Gorla," he demanded, "the Priest who brought me here. I—I feel the need of spiritual guidance."