hree females, and one babe-in-arms. Jlomec got the impression
that--though they were erect and finely formed--that they were of
short stature.

But now he realized he had got this impression only by their
comparison to the seventh figure by the well. He knew at a glance that
this seventh was an Abarian warrior, exceptionally tall and wearing
the look of grim cruelty so characteristic of his race.

Jlomec paid the Abarian scant heed however, so engrossed was he in
studying the strange half-dozen. Their skins were richly browned and
they wore almost no clothing.

Who could they be? Jlomec wondered, and from whence had they come?
Mightily intrigued, he moved forward until he came within earshot of
the party. Then, for reason of the words he heard spoken, he halted
his air car and frowned.

* * * * *

The Abarian, he recognized as the famed Retoc himself. A fierce stad
pawed the ground nearby indicating how the tall, sneering commander of
the Abarians had arrived at this spot. Retoc was known to roam the
Plains of Ofrid at times, still savoring the destruction he and his
sire, Harnod, had accomplished; pleasuring himself with memories of
bodies piled high, of bloody swords and helpless cries of the dying.

Or was it for some other reason that Retoc roamed the plains? Was it a
nameless fear that drove him there? Did the accusing face of Portox
the Ofridian genius still hang balefully in his memory? Had Portox
acquainted the Abarian devil with knowledge that he alone carried in
his guilty heart? And did that knowledge generate a fear that Retoc
the Abarian could not rid himself of?

At any rate, he now stood between the brown people and the Ofridian
well, enjoying a useless cruelty as was his custom.

The leader of the group extended his hands in supplication and said,
"We only ask water, sire. A small thing, but long have we waited to
quench our thirst."

Retoc said, "What manner of people are you?"

"Harmless ones. See? We are unarmed and peaceful."

"That does not answer my question. Tell me who you are and from whence
you came. Then we will see whether my fancy dictates that you shall
have water from this well."

Indignation and rage dimmed Jlomec's better judgment. He had glided in
beyond range of Retoc's vision and now he leaped from his car and drew
his wandlike whip-sword. "Is there no drop of common decency or
compassion left in you, Retoc, that you do this thing to helpl