Klaggchallak, his fur nose-flaps pulled tight against his nostrils, stumbled up to the gleaming pinnacle of steel that seemed to offer shelter against the night. He felt a dust-storm gathering in the west, and knew that not even the tough skin of a Martian priest could withstand the angry whippings of sand lashed up by the wind-warlocks of the desert. The old priest drew a tiny, folded mal -skin tent from his back-pack. Without haste, for he knew that the elder gods of Mars were watching his saf