Then, once again, from out of nowhere the sound of singing reached his ears: closer this time and more distinct. But it was not singing, it was the sound of many voices, excited voices, clamoring all at once, coming closer.

The force that grasped him slackened and he turned to glance behind him. A long line of bright lights were swinging through the night toward them. For a moment he could not think what they were, but the voices came from these lights that floated swiftly nearer.

Torches! He grabbed Adjani by the arm and swung him around, pointing to where the torches massed together at the head and trailed off in single file behind. All at once it hit him. He found his voice in the same instant. "The villagers!"

The naga demons hesitated momentarily. Spence felt their hold on him withdraw as their attention shifted to this new development. The creature with the orb stepped forward, his wings half-fanned out from his repulsive body. He raised the orb just as the first of the torchbearers came running up.

Spence saw their faces in the light; the blades of makeshift weapons flashed in their hands-hoes and machetes and other implements. They rushed forward toward the creatures and then halted in confusion as the demon with the orb scuttled forward and raised the object over his head.

Spence threw himself headlong at the creature and knocked the sphere away. He landed with a thump that knocked the air from his lungs and saw the silver object roll to the side.

There was a great cry and the peasants came rushing in. He felt icy hands on him and saw two creatures clutching at him, lifting him to carry him off. He yelled and was immediately surrounded by villagers bearing clubs and machetes. Then he was being hauled to his feet and he looked up to see Kyr bending over him.

"I'm all right. I'm fine," he said, standing.

"Come on!" cried Adjani, right behind.

The peasants swarmed around them, pushing through the gates. The night was filled with light and noise-it was like a river flooding into a dry valley. Here and there the current eddied. Spence saw knots of men pummeling the earth; hoes and shovels rose and fell, and he knew that the demons would trouble them no more.

"They came back," he said in disbelief.

"They came back, indeed!" shouted Gita. His round face split into a wide grin. "God be praised! They came back to help usand also to share in the treasure they believe we will find inside."

"Then I hope they get some!" said Spence. "But right now we'd better find what we're after."

Adjani was already leading them across the ancient courtyard. The echo of excited voices and the reflection of torchlight on stone came back to them from every corner. They ran to the nearest and largest structure and entered through a wide entrance into the main corridor.

The press of bodies carried them along together. The excitement seemed to shoot through them all like sparks. They came to a smaller corridor that opened off the main one. Spence stopped and turned. A single door closed off the further end a few meters away. Spence walked toward the door.

28

…

THE SOUNDS OF THE rout receded in the corridors behind him as the villagers swept on. He heard shouts from other parts of the palace, but here it was dark once more and quiet. He stood looking at the door and knew what awaited him on the other side: the Dream Thief, old Naag Brasputi, the fearful ruler of men's minds.

Spence found it strange that he should feel so calm at this moment; he had no fear, no terror, not even any alarm that he should be so close to the monster's own chamber. It was as if, once resigned to facing the thing before him, it held no more terror for him. Its power over him was broken. And yet he knew that could not be the entire explanation; there had to be something more.

He heard a rustle beside him and someone moved. "Yes, he is here," said Kyr, raising his hands before the door. "I feel his presence…" He paused and added, "but the life force is growing weaker."

Spence reached out and pushed the door. It swung open easily and he stepped through the low stone archway and into a large room reeking of incense and hung in a brown cloudy haze. Large stone vases lined the walls of the room and candles burned in clusters all around. At a further end, on a stone dais amid a sea of bright-colored cushions, slumped the old Martian all alone.

The ancient head came up slowly, feebly. The great yellow eyes opened and regarded them with cool contempt. The wattled throat trembled and the mouth opened. "So, here you are at last, Guardian."

Kyr stepped forward slowly. "Who are you?" He spoke so that Spence could understand him.

"I have worn many names in the time of my life. Which would you like to know? Brasputi-that is how I am known to many. Dream Thief, some call me, I am told. Ortu was my name when I walked among my own kind." He tilted his head up to regard the imposing form of Kyr. "It is strange seeing one of my race after so long."

"Ortu," Kyr breathed, his head weaving back and forth.

"Why?"

Words unspoken passed between the two aliens. Ortu accepted the authority of Kyr, for his gaze slid away. He said, "I will tell you." His eyes closed and his head sank back to his chest and as if in a trance, he began to speak:

"We sought the far stars and I led many bright ships to homes under different suns. But always there burned in my mind the beauty of this world and its people. It seemed to me favored of all the worlds I had seen. When the vimana under my command malfunctioned we could search no more and I led my colony back here. We came to this place, then little inhabited. We lived here in peace for many long years. But we established no colony-the radiation that damaged our vimana also damaged our bodies and we could no longer reproduce our own kind.

"In time our people died, some through the strange diseases of this world, some through age, some were killed by the primitive Earthmen we tried to help. I alone was left of all who had come. And here I remain."

"You know it is forbidden to interfere with the Earthmen. You, Ortu, argued it before the Council. You were the one who showed us the way of courage."

Ortu was silent for a long time. His body trembled and he seemed to be disintegrating before their eyes. When he spoke again, his voice had changed, lapsing into the whistling lilt of Martian speech, though the words were still Earth words. "We were doomed. My colony would never flourish, never achieve the bright vision I had worked so hard to make reality. We were dying…"

Again a long silence. And then his voice came again, still more strained, with Martian and Earth speech freely mixed together.

"To die unsung by the Sons of Ovs… helith vsi jvan… tried to help, to teach them, but renni ospri… so primitive. It took so long, so long… bvur elchor shri. I wanted to teach them. I waited years, but progress was too slow. I burned for them.

"One by one the bright ones died… rsis Atri, Pulastya, Kratu, Vasistha, Pulacha, Marici, Angiras…" The words were familiar to Spence, who remembered that these were the names of the gods of Indian folklore Adjani's father had told them about. These had been Ortu's comrades, now long dead, but still remembered and strangely revered in India's fantastic legends.

As Spence had suspected, the coming of the Martians had given birth to one of the most widespread enduring religions of mankind. Hinduism was founded upon a primitive misunderstanding, a mistake of cosmic proportions.

Spence stared at the ancient Martian as the wavering voice went on.

"The errors, the needless slaughter, the sengri. We tried to teach them… we loved them, but they would not understand." At this the crinkled eyelids snapped open once more and the yellow eyes glared out defiantly. "Is it any wonder I learned in time to hate them? Their world was perfect, and yet they were bent on destroying it!"