The Irishman waved an airy hand.

“Serku”⁠—the green dwarf drew from his girdle the bloodstained poniard⁠—“Serku I was forced to slay. Even as he raised the Shadow the globe gave the alarm. Lugur follows with twice ten times ten of his best⁠—” He hesitated. “Though we have escaped the Shadow it has taken toll of our swiftness. May we reach the Portal before it closes upon Lakla⁠—but if we do not⁠—” He paused again. “Well⁠—I know a way⁠—but it is not one I am gay to follow⁠— no! ”

He snapped open the aperture that held the ball flaming within the dark crystal; peered at it anxiously. I crept to the torn end of the corial . The edges were crumbling, disintegrated. They powdered in my fingers like dust. Mystified still, I crept back where Larry, sheer happiness pouring from him, was whistling softly and polishing up his automatic. His gaze fell upon Olaf’s grim, sad face and softened.