I gazed into Jason's face, even in its astral semblance haggard.
"Croft," I stammered, "what in Zitu's name has happened?"
He jerked out an arm in an all-embracing gesture.
"Gone, Murray," he told me with a vibration of agony in his answer; "both of them—both Naia and the—child."
"Gone?" For a moment my senses seemed whirring. "Croft—what do you mean? Gone—where?"
"Into the western mountains, toward the outer ocean—she told me, Murray. She came and told me as soon as she felt it safe to do so. She came to me tonight in the Zitran pyramid—astrally, of course. You know I told you I was going to Zitra to see Jadgor in a matter concerning the government railroad control—"
I nodded.
"She found me there tonight. She had been afraid to leave the body before, lest something happen to little Jason. It was last night this thing occurred—and my body's still in Zitra." I sensed the tenseness of his emotion. "I'm so utterly impotent to help her, Murray. Would Zitu I were here to follow and wrest her from them."
"From whom?" I questioned. Plainly he knew more of the matter than I did—as much at least as Naia had told him. "See here, Croft—"
He appeared to grip himself as he answered. "Forgive me, Murray. The Zollarians, of course. It was an armed band of those Sons of Zitemku that attacked here in my absence. There"—he pointed at the body of Mitlos—"lies an example of their work."