now, poised in the doorway leading from the bedroom. And he literally had to
stoop down so that his head did not strike the top of the door jamb.
He was a massive figure whose every stretch and fold of skin was lit up like a
fire. The light that enveloped him from head to foot actually seemed to nicker,
as if tiny tongues of white heat were burning there.
Those innumerable fires suffused the greenhouse with a brightness greater than
daylight.
Clearly, a human confronted by a god should not rely on force alone. At no time
was that realization a coherent thought in Stulwig’s mind. But the awful truth
of it was there in his muscles and bones. Every movement he made reflected the
reality of a man confronting an overwhelming power.
Most desperately, he wanted to be somewhere, far away.
Which was impossible. And so-
Stulwig heard his voice stuttering out the first meaning of those defensive
thought-feelings: ‘I’m innocent. I didn’t know who she was.’
It was purpose of a desperate sort. Avoid this incredible situation by
explaining. Arguing. Proving.
The baleful eyes stared at him after he had spoken. If the being behind those
eyes understood the words, there was no clear sign.
The man stammered on: ‘She came as a sorceress with whom I had arranged a
rendezvous for this night. How could I know that it was a disguise?’
The Ilsig language, suddenly, did not seem to be a sufficient means of
communication. Stulwig had heard that its verbal structure was despised by
Rankans who had learned the speech of the conquered race. The verbs – it was