own blood
before darkness comes again!"

The blond young man kept his mechanical smile. He said: "Not if they
give me a knife...."

Something in the soft words brought a momentary silence to the group.
What had Vulcar said yesterday about this handsome, graceful youth? "Few
men equal him in handling a knife...."

Katon said, "It will be an hour before the Games actually
get under way. First they must finish the rites honoring the
God-Whose-Name-May-Not-Be-Spoken--a lengthy ritual. Then the guards will
come, select a few of us, give them arms and send them into the arena."

"Somehow," Tharn said thoughtfully, "I wonder if it is wise to wait
until the third day before putting our plan into action. After three
days many of our men will have died in the arena. We shall need every
man we can get."

Katon rubbed his chin, frowning. "True," he admitted. "But to hurry this
thing would be fatal. The guards must be satisfied that everything is
going smoothly before they relax their watchfulness.

"Although we shall lose men," he continued, "I believe many of the
soldiers and citizens of Sephar will join us when the revolt gets under
way. Few, I imagine, regard Pryak with favor; they should welcome a
chance to end his power and make one of their own men king."

Then and there the germ of an idea was implanted in Tharn's mind--an
idea destined to bear fruit in the days ahead.

* * * * *

For the better part of an hour the seven ring-leaders moved about the
chamber, talking with groups of prisoners, discussing various phases of
the plan Tharn had concocted. So confident did the seven seem, that many
a despondent captive was caught up by their infectious spirit and began
to grow impatient for the Games to start that the two days might pass
the sooner.

At last the noise of sandaled feet sounded in the corridor, and a moment
later the door was thrust open.

Five men came in: four well-armed priests wearing white tunics edged in
black; and another, who was as different from the nondescript priests as
Sadu differs from Botu, the jackal.

Head and shoulders above his companions towered this fifth man; his face
was strong and proud, and from either side of a blade-like nose, eyes of
blue fire swept over the crowded room.

Katon nudged the Cro-Magnard. "That tall one is Wotar, director of the
Games. He is no priest; and before Urim died, was one of Sephar's most
powerful nobles. He has been G