They were like the radiant prisms that sometimes flush the surface of a bubble more than aught else for a time.

But as I watched that mosaic of yellow and purple creep softly to and fro upon the globe it seemed they slowly took form and meaning.

Another minute or two and they had certainly congealed into a settled plan, and then, as I stared and wondered, it burst upon me in a minute that I was looking upon a picture, faithful in every detail, of the world I stood on; all its ruddy forests, its sapphire sea, both broad and narrow ones, its white peaked mountains, and unnumbered islands being mapped out with startling clearness for a spell upon that beaming orb.
Then a strange thing happened.

Heru, who had been crouching in a tremulous heap by the tripod, rose stealthily and passed her hands a few times across the sphere.

Colour and picture vanished at her touch like breath from a mirror.