panied her into the open that this would be the last time.
"Tonight you go to Luud," he said. "I am sorry as I shall not hear you sing again."
"Tonight!" She scarce breathed the word, yet it was vibrant with horror.
She glanced quickly toward the hills. They were so close! Yet between were the inevitable workers—perhaps a score of them.
"Let us walk over there?" she said, indicating them. "I should like to see what they are doing."
"It is too far," said Ghek. "I hate the sun. It is much pleasanter here where I can stand beneath the shade of this tree."
"All right," she agreed; "then you stay here and I will walk over. It will take me but a minute."
"No," he answered. "I will go with you. You want to escape; but you are not going to."
"I cannot escape," she said.
"I know it," agreed Ghek; "but you might try. I do not wish you to try. Possibly it will be better if we return to the tower at once. It would go hard with me should you escape."
Tara of Helium saw her last chance fading into oblivion. There would never be another after today. She cast about for some pretext to lure him even a little nearer to the hills.
"It is very little that I ask," she said. "Tonight you will want me to sing to you. It will be the
