Chapter twenty“Arrest that man! That Is Dray Prescot, the blasphemer! Seize him!”
The casual party of warriors abruptly became casual no longer. They looked over at me. Their hands went to their sword hilts.
Again the gargantuan voice bellowed.
“Yes! That is Dray Prescot, the Great Blasphemer and Defiler of Dokerty! Take him!”
My Val! What a mess! I turned smartly about and started off at a dead run between the thick pillars. The street into which I burst was wide; but because the buildings overhung so much the tops were close together and admitted little of the suns’ light. I ran along in a gloom I fiercely hoped would soon be total darkness.
That damned Opaz-forsaken Eye! The diabolical thing had been spying on me. Now it — or the Illusionist who peered through its lenses — had reco
