She was certain she would never hear that voice again. Whatever result might come from this widening of her knowledge would be born from her thoughts and actions alone. Slowly she arose from the chair. Just as the Upper Sense had been drained by her exertions to reach this end of her quest, so now was hope and belief in the future ebbing from her. What was left for the Yurth? They, whose blood had once dared the star ways, were planted forever on a world which hated them—outcasts and wanderers. Of what purpose were they? Better that they take steps now to erase their existence. . . . Bleak and bitter thoughts, yet they clung to her mind, made the world look gray and cold. “Sky-devil!” Elossa turned to meet the eyes of the Raski. She had forgotten him. Had he seen what she had been forced to witness, the destruction of the world which had been that of his blood and kin? She held up her hands, empty and palm out. “Did you see?” Had the pictures on the screen been for her alone, cast there by a mental force denied his kind?
