Moana screamed.
One of the cowled figures lifted an arm and gestured assurance. "There is no cause for fear. The Hierarch sent us to bring you before him."
Moana shuddered. Angus felt her cold hand seeking his, trying to hide itself in his palm. Hand in hand they willed themselves after the cowled forms. They swam bodily through the blackness, moving eerily, without muscular movement.
A round curtain of shimmering bluish motes ahead of them was like a glowing patch in the darkness. One of the cowled forms turned and waited. He said, "Another pool, Moana. The pool of the Hierarchy. We, too, know the way into this world."
"What is the blackness?" wondered Angus.
"What man knows? It was formed and built by the Elder Ones before they went on."
They were in the pool, passing upward through its queer surface. It sizzled and bubbled all around them, tingling on the skin.
They passed the pool and stood in a low-ceilinged, bare room.
A cowled man opened a door for them and stood aside.
The Hierarch sat in a curved chair ornate with gold edgings. His pale, ascetic face gloomed from the shadow of his big cowl. He stared at them, a thin smile touching his lips. He stared so long that Angus asked impatiently, "What do you want with us? Tandor, is he free?"