e First
Level language, swinging the stubby muzzle of the blaster and the
knob-tipped twin tubes of the needler to cover the group around the
throne, "Come forward, before I start blasting!"

Labdurg raised his hands and stepped forward. So did two of the
priests of Yat-Zar. They were quickly seized by Paratime Policemen who
swarmed up onto the platform and disarmed. All three were carrying
sigma-ray needlers, and Labdurg had a blaster as well.

King Kurchuk was clinging to the arms of his throne, a badly
frightened monarch trying desperately not to show it. He was a big
man, heavy-shouldered, black-bearded; under ordinary circumstances he
would probably have cut an imposing figure, in his gold-washed mail
and his golden crown. Now his face was a dirty gray, and he was biting
nervously at his lower lip. The others on the platform were in even
worse state. The Hulgun nobles were grouped together, trying to
disassociate themselves from both the king and the priests of
Muz-Azin. The latter were staring in a daze at the blazing cart from
which their idol had just been blasted. And the dozen men who were to
have done the actual work of the torture-sacrifice had all dropped
their whips and were fairly gibbering in fear.

Yat-Zar, manipulated by the robed paratimer, had taken a position
directly above the throne and was lowering slowly. Kurchuk stared up
at the massive idol descending toward him, his knuckles white as he
clung to the arms of his throne. He managed to hold out until he could
feel the weight of the idol pressing on his head. Then, with a scream,
he hurled himself from the throne and rolled forward almost to the
edge of the platform. Yat-Zar moved to one side, swung slightly and
knocked the throne toppling, and then settled down on the platform. To
Kurchuk, who was rising cautiously on his hands and knees, the big
idol seemed to be looking at him in contempt.

"_Where are my holy priests, Kurchuk?_" Stranor Sleth demanded in to
his sleeve-hidden radio. "_Let them be brought before me, alive and
unharmed, or it shall be better for you had you never been born!_"

The six priests of Yat-Zar, it seemed, were already being brought onto
the platform by one of Kurchuk's nobles. This noble, whose name was
Yorzuk, knew a miracle when he saw one, and believed in being on the
side of the god with the heaviest artillery. As soon as he had seen
Yat-Zar coming through the gate without visible means of support, he
had has