“They would,” said Ghek.  “I will ask Luud about it.”

The following day he told her that Luud had said that she was to be taken into the fields.  He would try that for a time and see if she improved.

“If you do not grow fatter he will send for you anyway,” said Ghek; “but he will not use you for food.”

Tara of Helium shuddered.

That day and for many days thereafter she was taken from the tower, through the enclosure and out into the fields.  Always was she alert for an opportunity to escape; but Ghek was always close by her side.  It was not so much his presence that deterred her from making the attempt as the number of workers that were always between her and the hills where the flier lay.  She could easily have eluded Ghek, but there were too many of the others.  And then, one day, Ghek told her as he accompanied her into the open that this would be the last time.

“Tonight you go to Luud,” he said.  “I am sorry as I shall not hear you sing again.”

“Tonight!” She scarce breathed the word, yet it was vibrant with horror.

She glanced quickly toward the hills.  They were so close!  Yet between were the inevitable workers—­perhaps a score of them.

“Let us walk over there?” she said, indicating them.  “I should like to see what they are doing.”

“It is too far,” said Ghek.  “I hate the sun.  It is much pleasanter here where I can stand beneath the shade of this tree.”

“All right,” she agreed; “then you stay here and I will walk over.  It will take me but a minute.”

“No,” he answered.  “I will go with you.  You want to escape; but you are not going to.”

“I cannot escape,” she said.

“I know it,” agreed Ghek; “but you might try.  I do not wish you to try.  Possibly it will be better if we return to the tower at once.  It would go hard with me should you escape.”

Tara of Helium saw her last chance fading into oblivion.  There would never be another after today.  She cast about for some pretext to lure him even a little nearer to the hills.

“It is very little that I ask,” she said.  “Tonight you will want me to sing to you.  It will be the last time, if you do not let me go and see what those kaldanes are doing I shall never sing to you again.”

Ghek hesitated.  “I will hold you by the arm all the time, then,” he said.

“Why, of course, if you wish,” she assented.  “Come!”

The two moved toward the workers and the hills.  The little party was digging tubers from the ground.  She had noted this and that nearly always they were stooped low over their work, the hideous eyes bent upon the upturned soil.  She led Ghek quite close to them, pretending that she wished to see exactly how they did the work, and all the time he held her tightly by her left wrist.