What she saw was a man. She does not recollect how he was clad. He seemed to be sitting on a bench. Behind him she saw distinctly a blue wall, in nature, metallic. In the wall was an open door through which only grayness could be seen. The face of the man was held close to hers; he seemed to be staring at her. It was the face of a middle-aged man, of one powerful. Two clear brown eyes looked into hers; a mass of wavy chestnut hair surmounted the godlike brow. And the figure was smiling.
For only the minutest fraction of a second this lasted, then the grayness returned. Yet, in a few seconds, it, too, had cleared away. The terrible blankness and queer feeling vanished abruptly as it had come. She could again see about her.
The castle of Aald and the men of Nimbor apparently had dissolved. Above her rose the sides of the palace of the Directors of Toom. And about her were the men of Toom. For a moment, Oomith and the men stared at one another, each mutually startled and disbelieving what they saw. Finally one of them recovered sufficiently to speak.
"Mataiya Oomith! We thought you were being held captive in Nimbor; what do you here? How did you get here?"
She could only reply hesitatingly: "I don't know. I was at Nimbor, trying to escape. Then everything went dark, and I found myself standing here." She started to put a hand to her forehead, then saw she was holding something. The scroll! Her eyes flashed.
"Quick! Summon the council. I have here the plans for the death machine of Nimbor. Bid them hurry. We have no time to lose!"
Joris, military director of Toom, pounded the table with his fist. "Damn! We know everything the enemy knows, now. We have the plans so that we can meet them on their own terms. But they're on their way to attack us now, and we haven't even a working model. It's all here—but only on paper.
"We can save Toom, yes—but we cannot prevent the devastation of our fields and towns, nor the slaughter of our helpless non-combatants. We can only exact a vengeance and prevent a final triumph on the part of the enemy!"
Before Danuth could speak, a man burst into the chamber, hair disheveled, gasping for breath. On his face was an expression of amazement and joy commingled. Twice he tried to speak and could emit only gasps for breath. He clasped the shoulders of Joris, turned to the others. At length speech returned to him, and he spoke slowly, deliberately.