“Your answer?” came the cold voice.
“No!” cried Margaret. “No!”
“Then,” replied Zayata, “you shall soon know your destiny.”
He clapped his hands. Chandra approached and moved the wheel chair not toward the usual entrance, but toward the end of the room. The Burmese touched the wall. A panel opened. He wheeled the chair through, and the wall closed. Margaret was alone.
The girl had no sense of the passage of time. The very walls of the room seemed alive. Tapestried snakes were writhing. Smoke was flowing from painted incense vases. A fantastic dragon blinked its eyes at her. She was powerless to move. Then Chandra appeared.
Aided by Chandra, Margaret rose. She walked slowly, each step an effort, to the end of the room, through the space where Zayata had gone. Another panel opened. She stood in the temple.
Chandra was urging her toward the golden throne. Upon it sat a weird, uncanny being — what appeared to be a living idol. The eyes of the creature shone green; Margaret tried to cry aloud, but her voice was gone.
The eyes were the eyes of Zayata, glowing under the light that shone directly from above.
“I am Charn,” came a voice, strangely unlike Zayata’s. “You have come to learn your fate. Look!”
FOR the first time, Margaret Glendenning fully sensed her surroundings. All the light in the silent temple was centered about the throne. The rest of the room was gloomy and dim; but the girl could see vague figures seated there. Her eyes distinguished them as motionless human beings.