IV
He floated bodiless in space. The stars swirled about him, moving endlessly in their orbits. This was death, he knew. But it was a strange form of death, for here and there he could recognize familiar constellations, saw nebulae and galaxies that he knew.
This is not Noorlythin!
The voice swirled about him, rumbling out of the black stretches of space itself. The McCanahan could feel eyes on him, hidden eyes that probed at him, lancing through him with the remorseless certainty of a surgeon's electroniscalpel.
This is a Terran. A man named McCanahan. He is frightened!
He was within the tower. Only Noorlythin could live in that trap of hell. I do not understand!
Something touched him, as gently as a Spring breeze off the sea. And with the touching, the eyes of Kael McCanahan came open to the robed figures that floated between the stars. He tried to see their faces, but only a blinding whiteness returned his stare, under the low hoods of the robes.
Seek not our faces, Terran. To you, we are as the sun!
His tongue was thick and swollen. He mumbled. He swallowed, as if to clear his throat.
"Where am I? Who are you? I walked into the tower and—"