"Will me to enter. Think! Open your mind to me. There's nothing to fear. No need to be suspicious. I'm not an Anolyn. I can't force myself on you...."
A dazzling light seemed to burst behind Jupiter's eyes. The girl was in. He could feel her!
He was aware of Tabak's mind, questing, probing. His brain pulsed as if he had a violent headache.
At the same time, a whole new set of memory patterns, unfamiliar facts, stray incidents and ideas made themselves felt. It was as if a volume of the Encyclopedia Galactica had been up-ended and all the information therein had been poured into his brain helter-skelter with the utmost confusion.
Somehow, he knew all that Tabak knew, all that she'd ever felt or seen or heard; but horribly jumbled, meaningless like the scrambled parts of an intricate jig-saw puzzle.
He heard her exclaim aloud: "It's true! The Wanderer-from-Beyond!" Then a fear thought: "I must go! They mustn't find me here!"
He felt her mind withdraw, saw her slip from the temple room, a slim, graceful figure in the shimmering yellow fur cloak—the living sensuous boj. He was too appalled to try to stop her.
His mind was like a warehouse of unrelated, unassorted, unassimilated facts. He needed time to incorporate the confusing jumble into intelligible order.
Time and contemplation.
He was to get neither yet, he saw, for the door opened almost on Tabak's heels, and three of the Anolyns crawled in like fat, purple-shelled snails.