One feature Lynne noted at once. Like their Asiatic counterparts on Earth, they seemed to belong to a theocratic rather than a scientific culture—yet the buildings themselves were utterly beyond the creative techniques of even an interplanetary human culture.
She said, "Are the other towers of Mars like this?"
"In general," replied the Eurasian girl. "The aborigines seem to have been mostly a philosophic sort. Perhaps they became so when their planet began to die. All that have survived are such low life-orders as the czanworm and sand-lurtonk. Unless, of course, the invisible ones are natives. I for one am inclined to believe they are."
"So does Rolf Marcein," said Lynne.
"You love him, don't you?" Lao asked matter-of-factly.
"I'm beginning to be afraid so," said Lynne as frankly.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of," replied the other. "I love Revere, you know—and I don't expect to see him ever again."
"I know," said Lynne, feeling her companion's unhappiness like a knife. She pulled the parka over her head although it was not the cool Martian afternoon breeze that was making her cold. She said, "It must have been very difficult for you—what you had to do to help get me here. I don't wonder if you hate me."
"I don't hate you, Lynne," said Lao. "But if you fail on this job I shall. I should not enjoy sacrificing Revere for nothing."