e eternal curiosity of women!"

"Garin."

"Garin," she repeated. "How like--" A faint rose glowed beneath her
pearl flesh.

Dandtan's hand fell lightly upon his rescuer's shoulder. "Indeed he is
like him. From this day let him bear that other's name. Garan, Son of
Light."

"Why not?" she returned calmly. "After all--"

"The reward which might have been Garan's may be his? Tell him the story
of his namesake when we are again in the Caverns--"

Dandtan was interrupted by a frightened squeak from the Ana. Then came a
mocking voice.

"So the prey has entered the trap of its own will. How many hunters may
boast the same?"

Kepta leaned against the door, the light of vicious mischief dancing in
his eyes. Garin dropped his cloak to the floor, but Dandtan must have
read what was in the flyer's mind, for he caught him by the arm.

"On your life, touch him not!"

"So you have learned that much wisdom while you have dwelt among us,
Dandtan? Would that Thrala had done the same. But fair women find me
weak." He eyed her proud body in a way that would have sent Garin at his
throat had Dandtan not held him. "So shall Thrala have a second chance.
How would you like to see these men in the Room of Instruments, Lady?"

"I do not fear you," she returned. "Thran once made a prophecy, and he
never spoke idly. We shall win free--"

"That will be as fate would have it. Meanwhile, I leave you to each
other." He whipped around the door and slammed it behind him. They heard
the grating of the bar he slid into place. Then his footsteps died away.

"There goes evil," murmured Thrala softly. "Perhaps it would have been
better if Garin had killed him as he thought to do. We must get
away...."

Garin drew the rod from his belt. The green light-motes gathered and
clung about its polished length.

"Touch not the door," Thrala advised; "only its hinges."

Beneath the tip of the rod the stone became spongy and flaked away.
Dandtan and the flyer caught the door and eased it to the floor. With
one quick movement Thrala caught up Garin's cloak and swirled it about
her, hiding the glitter of her gem-encrusted robe.

There was a curious cold lifelessness about the air of the corridor, the
light-bearing motes vanishing as if blown out.

"Hurry!" the Daughter urged. "Kepta is withdrawing the living light, so
that we will have to wander in the dark."

When they reached the end of the hall the light was quite gone, and
Garin bruised his h