It's madness to think such a thing, Drake!" I exclaimed, and wondered at my own vehemence of denial.
"Maybe," he shook his head doubtfully.

"Maybe--but--well--let's be on our way." We strode on, following the direction the Metal Folk had gone.

Clearly Drake was still doubtful; at each pillar he hesitated, scanning it closely with troubled eyes.
But I, having determinedly dismissed the idea, was more interested in the fantastic lights that flooded this columned hall with their buttercup radiance.

They were still and unwinking; not disks, I could see now, but globes.

Great and small, they floated motionless, their rays extending rigidly and as still as the orb that shed them.
Yet rigid as they were there was nothing about either rays or orbs that suggested either hardness or the metallic.