She moved her slim, gleaming shoulders. "There were not many here even in the beginning, while the fire was still at its height. After its destroying breath left the valley, only a very few were left—those, that is, who were still human. And they somehow did not care to live. My father was the last to die, but before he did he said I must find a way to keep our race from perishing with me. He explained that I was the first human truly adjusted to the changed conditions of the valley, and only in me was there hope.
"That was ... and remains ... my duty—to keep humans alive in this aspect. The answer to my problem lay beyond the veil. Matter was held by the energy field of the aspect in which it was situated, and thus could not be made to cross without the use of enormous power. But the vital force contained in living matter could be made to cross easily enough—with, of course, the means of a tool like the Vessel. And the pool could incarnate the vital force, give it matter in this aspect according to the pattern of the original shell. All I had to do was bring the vital force of a man through the veil—and my race could go on. Still, I have been unsuccessful, for it seems that the vital force is also held to its aspect."
"I think that's because of what might be called psychic bonds," Bryan said slowly. "The men you brought here, Leeta—they did not want to come. And once here they did not want to stay. That, it seems, is why you've failed."
He indicated the globe she was holding. "And that's why you'll fail again. It's wrong to destroy a life uselessly, Leeta. Wrong. Surely you realize that. You must release this man—if it's at all possible."
"It can be done," she said. Then her thought grew protesting, rebellious. "But I cannot release him. I cannot give up my mission so easily. I must keep trying until I succeed. Surely you in turn must realize how great my duty is."
"Will you persist in it even if you know you are doing wrong, bringing pain and grief to people in my aspect? Don't you know what grief is, Leeta? Didn't you feel grief when your father died—when that winged creature of yours died?"
"Yes," she said reluctantly. "Yes."
"And don't you know what love is? Haven't you realized that you were tearing those men away from persons they loved deeply and didn't want to leave? I don't mean the kind of love you felt for your father, Leeta, but the love that exists between a man and a woman who are mated. Don't you know what that kind of love is like?"
She hesitated, startled, wondering. "No," she breathed at last. "Then I'll show you," he said. Though he was somehow unsubstantial, a projection, he knew he could still transmit feeling, just as the mosquito-men had transmitted their paralysis to him. He bent toward her, pressed his lips to hers. He felt her surprise—and then her pleasure, her shy response. There was somehow a sweetness in that kiss, an intensity, that moved him as no kiss had ever done.