.

YURUK.
"Yuruk," I whispered, "you love us as the wheat field loves the hail; we are as welcome to you as the death cord to the condemned.

Lo, a door opened into a land of unpleasant dreams you thought sealed, and we came through.

Answer my questions truthfully and it may be that we shall return through that door." Interest welled up in the depths of the black eyes.
"There is a way from here," he muttered.

"Nor does it pass through--Them.