I love you, girl of Tarth, he thought. I love you, Ylia, more than words and more than worlds.
Something whisperingly cold plucked at him, and for an instant his heart was stilled.
Ylia!
Could his love for the girl of Tarth draw him across the unthinkable abyss?
"... immodestly attired and ..." the desk sergeant was saying.
Ylia, Ylia, call me! Draw me to you, girl of Tarth.
... bramforesthelp....
Ylia! I hear you! I hear you!
"What the heck's he doing? Praying?" the patrolman asked.
For Bram Forest was staring devoutly at nothing, staring at the air in front of his face there in the mundane precinct room as if it held a radiant vision.