He described the weapons of his day. But Quiana's smile was a little scornful when he finished.
"We of Zha have passed beyond the use of missile weapons—even such missiles as bullets or rays. Nor could they touch my Enemy. No, we can destroy in ways that require no—no beams or explosives. No, Dantan, you speak in terms of your own universe. We have no common ground. It is a pity that time eddied between Sanfel and me, but eddy it did, and I am helpless now. And the Enemy will be upon me soon. Very soon."
She let her shoulders sag and resignation dimmed the remembered vividness of her face. Dantan looked up at her grimly, muscles riding his set jaw. It was almost intolerable, this facing her again in need, and again helpless, and himself without power to aid. It had been bad enough that first time, to learn long afterward that she had died at enemy hands while he was too far away to protect her. But to see it all take place again before his very eyes!
"There must be a way," he said, and his hand gripped the lever marked "door" in the ancient tongue.
"Wait!" Quiana's voice was urgent.
"What would happen?"
"The door would open. I could enter your world, and you mine."
"Why can't you leave, then, and wait until it's safe to go back?"
"I have tried that," Quiana said. "It will never be safe. The Enemy waited too. No, it must come, in the end, to a battle—and I shall not win that fight. I shall not see my own people or my own land again, and I suppose I must face that knowledge. But I did hope, when I heard Sanfel's signal sound again...." She smiled a little. "I know you would help me if you could, Dantan. But there is nothing to be done now."