thout slaying or capturing Turgan
and Damis. Many believe that it is true."

"Is Glavour in the council room?" asked Damis. "I have a message."

"It would be better for you to defer the message if it be ill news until
Tubain arrives, brother, for Glavour is enraged beyond measure at all of
us. He threatens to sacrifice us at the next games and he may do so
unless Tubain alters the decree. He has not loved us since Damis broke
his arm a month ago."

"Nevertheless, I will deliver my message," replied Damis. "While it may
not please him, it is essential that he get it before Tubain arrives."

"Good luck go with you, brother," replied the Nepthalim with a shrug of
his shoulders. "The temper of the Viceroy of God is an uncertain quality
at best. He is in his seraglio."

* * * * *

Damis saluted the messenger and made his way toward the inner portion of
the palace where the women whom the lustful Viceroy had dragged into his
harem were kept. He had no plausible excuse for passing the guards into
this forbidden portion of the palace, but that was a matter which caused
him small worry. There were few of the secrets of the palace which were
not well known to Damis, who had at one time been major domo of the
building. There were some well known to him, the existence of which was
not even suspected by the majority of the Sons of God.

As he neared the seraglio, he turned off to his right and passed through
a maze of little-used passages until he halted before what was
apparently a blank wall. Casting a rapid glance around to ensure himself
that there was no one in sight, he touched a hidden catch and a portion
of the wall swung inward, opening a way before him. He entered a passage
built in the thickness of the wall and lighted with radium bulbs. The
door closed softly behind him. He removed his sandals lest even their
quiet tread should betray him and on bare feet crept forward.

The passage bent and twisted as it followed the walls until Damis knew
that he was in one of the walls of the seraglio. Praying that it would
work noiselessly, he slid open a panel of stone and found himself
looking through a semi-transparent hanging into the sacred precincts of
the seraglio itself. Glavour stood facing him, his heavy face drawn up
in a scowl of rage. Damis noted with satisfaction that one of the
Viceroy's arms was supported by a silk scarf and that he made no attempt
to use it. With a p