murmured--and the Dweller bent toward her, its seven globes steady in
their shining mists, as though listening. It drew erect once more,
resumed its doubtful scrutiny. Yolara's face darkened; she turned
abruptly, spoke to a captain of her guards. A dwarf raced back between
the palisades of dead-alive.

Now the priestess cried out, her voice ringing like a silver clarion.

"Ye are done, ye Three! The Shining One stands at your door,
demanding entrance. Your beasts are slain and your power is gone. Who
are ye, says the Shining One, to deny it entrance to the place of its
birth?"

"Ye do not answer," she cried again, "yet know we that ye hear! The
Shining One offers these terms: Send forth your handmaiden and that
lying stranger she stole; send them forth to us--and perhaps ye may
live. But if ye send them not forth, then shall ye too die--and soon!"

We waited, silent, even as did Yolara--and again there was no answer
from the Three.

The priestess laughed; the blue eyes flashed.

"It is ended!" she cried. "If you will not open, needs must we open
for you!"

Over the bridge was marching a long double file of the dwarfs. They
bore a smoothed and handled tree-trunk whose head was knobbed with a
huge ball of metal. Past the priestess, past the Shining One, they
carried it; fifty of them to each side of the ram; and behind them