Into the vast circle of sky pierced a lance of green fire; swift in its wake uprose others.
We slid gently down, stood swaying at the Disk's base.

The Keeper bent; angled.

Again the planes above the supporting square hovered over the tablet.

The tendrils swept down, pushed here and there, playing upon the rods some unknown symphony of power.
Thicker pulsed the lances of the aurora; changed to vast billowing curtains.

The faceted wheel at the top of the central spire of the cones swung upward; a light began to stream from the cones themselves--no pillar now, but a vast circle that shot whirling into the heavens like a noose.
And like a noose it caught the aurora, snared it! Into it the coruscating mists of mysterious flame swirled; lost their colors, became a torrent of light flying down through the ring as though through a funnel top.
Down poured the radiant corpuscles, bathing the cones.