Wilson looked over his shoulder in the direction of the other's gaze, and saw the circle.
That made his head ache even more. "Oh, Lord," he thought, "now I really am nuts. Why don't I wake up?" He shook his head to clear it.
That was a mistake. The top of his head did not quite come off―not quite. And the circle stayed where it was, a simple locus hanging in the air, its flat depth filled with the amorphous colors and shapes of no-vision. "Did I come through that?"
"Yes."
"Where am I?"
"In the Hall of the Gate in the High Palace of Norkaal. But what is more important is when you are. You have gone forward a little more than thirty thousand years."
"Now I know I'm crazy," thought Wilson. He got up unsteadily and moved toward the Gate.
The older man put a hand on his shoulder. "Where are you going?"
"Back!"
"Not so fast. You will go back all right―I give you my word on that. But let me dress your wounds first. And you should rest. I have some explanations to make to you, and there is an errand you can do for me when you get back―to our mutual advantage. There is a great future in store for you and me, my boy―a great future!"