There were no sounds of pursuit, and when he glanced back he saw the beast, now riderless, groping aimlessly among the rocks. He began to draw a deep breath, and then the world gave way beneath him. He fell a short distance through darkness and landed shoulder-first on a hard surface. The blade fell from his hand with a clanging sound, and he immediately retrieved it. There came a sharp, slamming noise from overhead, and dust, gravel and pieces of earth fell about him. Suddenly then, there was light, but his eyes did not immediately adjust to it.

When the effects of the brightness had passed, he still did not understand what lay before him.

A table... Yes, he recognized that--and the chairs. But where was the main light source? What was that large gray thing with the glassy rectangle at its center? And all those tiny lights?

Nothing moved about him, save for the settling dust. He got to his feet, advancing slowly.

"Hello?" he whispered.

"Yes, hello, hello!" came a loud voice. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" he asked, halting and turning in a slow circle.

"Here, with you," was the reply. The words had an archaic accent to them, like that of the Northlanders.

"I do not see you. Who are you?"

"My, you speak strangely! Foreigner? I am a teaching machine, a library computer."

"My words may seem strangely accented and assembled because of the passage of time," Mark said, with a sudden insight concerning the age and function of the device. "Can you make allowances, adjust for this? I am having a difficult time understanding even your simplest statements."

"Yes. Talk a lot. I need a good sample. Tell me about yourself and the things that you wish to know."

Mark smiled and lowered his blade. He limped to the nearest chair and slumped into it. He rubbed his shoulder.