The slope extended a few hundred feet beyond him in the other direction, so that he could not see what lay below the crest.
He crawled out into the sunlight and rested until his first weariness began to leave him. Still with no memory of the past, he rose and wandered unsteadily down the incline. Finding no one among the huge scattered rocks, he was about to retrace his way when the sound of a human voice caused him to halt abruptly. Cautiously approaching the cluster of stone behind which the sound seemed to have come, he peered curiously around the edge.
Seated upon a smooth slab was a handsome youth attired in a peculiar garment of light blue, bearing a huge figure "7" upon its back, and edged about the collar and sleeves with gold braid. His feet were encased in highly polished black boots and on his head was a helmet of stiffened blue cloth, marked with a small insignia. He seemed to be addressing his bitter remarks to some absent enemy, for there was no one else to be seen. Graham saw that he was in the grip of a powerful emotion, for he was rocking back and forth ceaselessly, his hands clenched and his eyes tightly shut. His words, though in English, were somewhat muffled, so that Graham was unable to understand what he was saying.
Stepping from his concealment, Graham placed himself before the youth. Opening his eyes, the lad started to his feet in alarm and amazement.
"Who are you?" he gasped, staring wide-eyed at Graham's gray-streaked body.
Graham's attempt at an answer resulted at first only in a silent working of his lips. Then words came, husky and halting, as he sought for a means of expression.
"I—can't seem to—remember. Where am I?"
The youth looked even more dazed.
"Are you blind? Where you find a Seventh Region guard can you doubt that it is the Seventh Region? But what has happened to you? Where is your uniform?"
The rapid rain of questions caused Graham to shake his head blankly.
"Everything is mixed up," he said, placing his hand wearily to his forehead. “I am beginning to remember some things, but they are very hazy."
The youth glanced at him oddly.
"You are not like any regionite I know. How is it that you do not know one of the Master's guards when you see him? Even in the farthermost First Region there is said to be no such ignorance, though the people there are of lowest mentality."
Something clicked at the back of Graham's brain. The Master! Slowly, out of a lifting blanket of darkness, there came before him a sinister face, distorted with hatred. A deep, sonorous voice echoed in his ears.
"This one you call the Master," he cried hoarsely. "Who is he?—where is he now?"
The cheeks of the blue-clad youth paled in swift terror.
"You dare to speak like this? Be careful—I warn you through his power he may know even now"
With a fierceness borne of his emotion, Graham seized the frightened lad by the shoulder.
"Quick! Answer me!"
"He is Master of the Earthband, of all the counselors, and all regions. Surely you can not have lived on any part of the Earthband without knowing this. His Palace lies in the Central Plaza, in the very middle of the Seventh Region. You can see it from the ridge up there."
"This Earthband," said Graham dazedly: "how long has it existed?"
