n the general
vicinity of his temple.

"You both better come down the station house with me," the policeman
said.

"Aw, officer, I'll lose some fares."

"Anyhow. The guy talks batty, but he don't look drunk. We got to
figure this here out."

"Ylia," the man said, almost as if the sound were a name and he was
crying out to the owner of that name across an unthinkable abyss.

* * * * *

Bontarc, King of Nadia, felt as good as could be expected under the
circumstances. Now that the first shock of bereavement had passed, he
knew no mourning would bring back his dead brother Jlomec. And the sun
of Tarth was hot on the amphitheater sands as Bontarc stood awaiting
his as yet unknown adversary. He flexed and uncoiled his whip-sword,
smiling in expectancy. He was a competent swordsman, among the dozen
or so best in Nadia. The duel-to-first-blood would be just what he
needed. Win or lose, he'd feel a lot better afterwards. And meanwhile,
he was a king, wasn't he? The adulation of the crowd swept down all
around him, lifting his spirits. The corpse of Prince Jlomec,
treacherously slain, seemed very far away--as, indeed, it was....

A roar of expectancy went up from a hundred thousand throats as
Bontarc's adversary appeared at the other end of the arena. The sun
was dazzling. At first Bontarc saw the swordsman only as a dot across
the gleaming sands. But now the roar of expectancy had turned to a
groan of dismay, which was followed by a silence, as of death, then an
eager whispered buzzing. Why should this be? Why....

The figure came closer on the burning sands. Bontarc squinted. Was it
possible? He felt a tremor go through his body.

It was Retoc of Abaria!

"To the death, Bontarc," Retoc said softly, savagely, as they
approached.

Bontarc shook his head imperceptibly. He was no coward, but knew he
was no match for Retoc and didn't see why he should lay down his life
on the amphitheater sands. "I'll not fight you to the death, Retoc of
Abaria," he said.

Retoc shrugged as if it weren't very important. "Well," he said
slowly, "if you don't want to kill the slayer of your brother...."

Bontarc charged.

Laughing, Retoc was ready for him.

* * * * *

"... Please ... please ... you're just wasting your time. I ... won't ...
tell you."

"No?" Pirum said, panting. He saw the girl through a haze of anger,
frustration, and desire. She was naked, her lip