Manchurian Books

When we're alone."
But through me went a little glow of reassurance. Whatever the maze
through which we were moving; whatever of menacing evil lurking
there--the Golden Girl was clearly watching over us; watching with
whatever unknown powers she could muster.
We passed the pillared entrance; went through a long bowered corridor
and stopped before a door that seemed to be sliced from a monolith of
pale jade--high, narrow, set in a wall of opal.
Rador stamped twice and the same supernally sweet, silver bell tones
of--yesterday, I must call it, although in that place of eternal day
the term is meaningless--bade us enter. The door slipped aside. The
chamber was small, the opal walls screening it on three sides, the
black opacity covering it, the fourth side opening out into a
delicious little walled garden--a mass of the fragrant, luminous
blooms and delicately colored fruit. Facing it was a small table of
reddish wood and from the omnipresent cushions heaped around it arose
to greet us--Yolara.


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