April 1, 2005
Sat Apr 2, 2005
“Liane sped down a wide avenue lined with a few stunted old cypress trees, and he heard him close at his heels. He turned into an archway, pulled his bronze ring over his head, down to his feet. He stepped through, brought the ring up inside the darkness. Sanctuary. He was alone in a dark magic space, vanished from earthly gaze and knowledge. Brooding silence, dead space…
He felt a stir behind him, a breath of air. At his elbow, a voice said” (64).
Vance, Jack. Tales of the Dying Earth. 1950. New York: Tom Doherty, 2000.