Bach" Orison asked. "Scarlatti," Dink ●said. "His music consoles Elder Compass●ion for the violence of men. Here—you'll need■ these." He handed Orison a pair of almos■t opaque goggles, the sort that weld■ers wear. "Come on," he said, tugging Orison th●rough a door. Even with the heavy■ goggles, the room beyond was brilliant bey■ond belief, a Sahara summer-solstice noon in■
- ciple of reverence for life ●in our conquest of your planet
- ."● The elevator appeared,
- piloted by another of ●the Purple-Ears. "Nine," Dink
- snapped. Wanji■ and the guard towed the packaged● Kraft aboard. The ante
brightness. The floor was covered by t●ons of sand, duned up against the windows ●in waves that would have disheartened a cam■el. The music now was almost as oppressiv■e as the heat and the light. Gr■eat booming gouts of sound came from e●very direction. Suddenly, as thou■gh responding to Orison's ment■al protest, the music stopped. Th■e lights dimmed somewhat. "