IV

Kieron awoke in darkness. Of the fire on the hearth, only embers

remained and the stone rooms were silent but for the sound of sleeping

men. The single Valkyr sentry was at his elbow, whispering him into

wakefulness. Kieron threw back the fur coverlets and swung his feet

over the edge of the low couch.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nevitta, sir."

"Nevitta! Here?" Kieron sprang to his feet, fully awake now. "Is there

a woman with him?"

"A slave-girl, sir. They wait in the outer chamber."

Kieron reached for his harness and weapons, threading his way through

his sleeping men. In the dimly lit antechamber, Nevitta stood near the

muffled figure of Alys. Kieron went immediately to the girl, and she

threw back her hood, baring her golden head to the torchlight. Her eyes

were bright with the pleasure of seeing Kieron again, but there was

anger in them, too. The lord of Valkyr knew at once that she had not

succeeded with Toran.

"What happened, Nevitta?"

"An attempt was made on the little princess' life, sir."

"_What?_" Kieron felt the blood drain from his face.

"As I say, Kieron." The old Valkyr's face was grim. "We had to fight

our way out of the Palace."

"I never had a chance to speak to Toran," the girl said sombrely. "It

was all that could be done to reach the spaceship. Even the Janizaries

tried to stop us. Two of your men died for me, Kieron."

"Who did this thing?" asked Kieron ominously.

"The men who attacked the princess' quarters," said Nevitta

deliberately, "wore the harness of Kalgan."

That hit Kieron like a physical blow ... hard. "_Kalgan!_ And you

brought her _here_? You fool, Nevitta!"

The old Valkyr nodded agreement. "Yes, Kieron. Fool is the proper

word...."

"No!" Alys spoke up imperiously. "It was my command that brought us

here. I insisted."

"By the Seven Hells! Why?" demanded Kieron. "Why here? You could have

been safe on Valkyr! I know it was my order to bring you here, but

after what happened...."

"The princess would not hear of seeking safety, Kieron," said Nevitta.

"When Kalgan proved its treachery by trying to assassinate her, she

could think only of your danger here ... unwarned. She would risk her

life to bring you this news, Kieron."

Kieron turned to face the girl. She looked up at him, eyes bright, lips

parted.

"What could make a princess risk her life ..." Kieron began numbly.

"Kieron...." The girl breathed his name softly. "I was so afraid for

you."

The Valkyr reached slowly for the clasp of her cloak and unfastened

it. The heavy mantle dropped unnoticed to the flagstones. Alys stood,

swaying slightly, parted lips inviting. Kieron watched the throbbing

pulse in her white throat and felt his own pounding. He took a step

toward her, his arms closing about her yielding suppleness. His mouth

sought her lips.

Unnoticed, Nevitta slipped from the antechamber and silently closed the

door after him....

* * * * *

Kieron stook before the arched window, staring out into the eternal,

misty dusk of Kalgan, his heart heavy. Behind him, Alys lay on the low

couch. Her bright hair lay in tumbled profusion about her face as she

watched her lover at the window. Kieron turned to look at her, feeling

the impact of her warm beauty. He began to pace the floor, wracking his

brains for a lead to his next move in the subtle war of treachery and

intrigue that had taken shape around him.

He had ordered his men ready for attack, but for the moment there

was little need for that kind of vigilance. What was needed was more

information. Carefully, he marshalled what few facts he had at his

disposal.

The connection between Freka and the plotters in the Imperial City that

he had suspected was proved at last by the attempt on Alys' life by men

of Kalgan. The star-kings were being used to fight a battle not their

own. But whose? Freka's ... or Ivane's? No matter which, they were

being tricked into striking the Imperial Crown from Toran's head, and

the gain to them and their people would be--more oppression.

The treatment he, himself, had received in the Imperial Court made

sense now. Landor sought to drive him into the arms of Freka's revolt.

Only Alys had spared him.

Now, the star-kings must be warned. But by the code of the Edge, Kieron

must prove to them that he was not the craven coward that Freka's

laughter had branded him. And he needed _proof_. Proof of the monstrous

structure of treachery and intrigue that had sprung up out of a woman's

cupidity and an unknown star-king's cold inhumanity.

Kieron stared moodily down into the damp courtyard beneath the open

window. In the early dawn it was deserted. Then, quite suddenly,

there was activity in the walled-in square. An officer of the Citadel

guard escorted a heavily cloaked figure into the yard, and with every

evidence of great respect, withdrew. The solitary figure paced the wet

cobbles nervously.

Who, wondered Kieron, would be treated with such obvious obsequiousness

and yet left in a back courtyard to await the summons of Freka of

Kalgan? A sudden thought struck him. It could be only someone who

should not be seen by the star-kings and their attendants that filled

the Citadel of Neg to overflowing.

Kieron studied the cloaked nobleman with renewed interest. It seemed to

him that he had seen that mincing walk before....

_Landor!_

Kieron flung open the door to the outer chamber. His startled men

gathered about him. Alys was on her feet behind him. He signalled for

Nevitta and four men to enter.

"Nevitta! Tear down that wall tapestry and cut it into shreds.... Alys,

tie the strips together and make a rope of it! Make certain the knots

are secure enough to bear a man's weight.... That's Landor down there!"

Kicking off his spurred boots, Kieron eased himself over the ledge

of the window. The courtyard was thirty feet below, but the ancient

walls of the Citadel were rough and full of the ornate projections of

Interregnal architecture. Kieron let himself down, feeling the mist

wet on his face. Twice he almost lost his footing and pitched to the

courtyard floor. Alys stared down at him from the window, white-faced.

He was ten feet from the bottom when Landor looked up. Recognition was

instant. There was a moment of stunned silence, and Kieron dropped the

remaining distance to land cat-like on his feet, blade in hand.

"Kieron!" Landor's face was grey.

* * * * *

The Valkyr advanced purposefully. "Yes, Landor! Kieron! I wasn't

supposed to see you here, was I? And you don't dare raise an outcry or

the others will see you, too! That would raise quite a smell in the

Consort's pretty brew, wouldn't it?"

Landor shrank back, away from the gleaming blade in Kieron's hand.

"Draw, Landor," said Kieron softly. "Draw now, or I'll kill you where

you stand."

In a panic, the First Lord of Space drew his sword. He knew himself to

be no match for the Valkyr star-king, and at the first touch of blades,

he turned and fled for the gate. He banged hard against the heavy

panels. The gate was locked. Kieron followed him deliberately.

"Cry for help, Landor," Kieron suggested with a short, hard laugh. "The

place is full of fighting men."

Landor was wild-eyed. "Why do you want to kill me, Kieron," he cried

hoarsely; "what have I done to you...?"

"You've taxed my people and insulted me, and if that were not enough

there would still be your treachery with Freka--tricking me and the

others into rebellion so that Ivane can seize the crown! That's more

than enough reason to kill you. Besides ..." Kieron smiled grimly, "I

just don't like you, Landor. I'd enjoy spilling some of your milky

blood."

"Kieron! I swear, Kieron...."

"Save it, dancing master!" Kieron touched Landor's loosely held weapon

with his own. "Guard yourself!"

Landor uttered an animal cry of desperation and lunged clumsily at the

Valkyr. Kieron's sword made a glittering encirclement and the First

Lord's weapon clattered on the cobblestones twenty feet away.

Kieron's eyes were cold as he advanced on the now thoroughly terrorized

courtier. "Kneel down, Landor. A lackey should always die on his knees."

The First Lord threw himself to the cobbles, his arms around the

outworlder's knees. He was grey with fright and babbling for mercy, his

eyes tightly shut. Kieron reversed his sword and brought the heavy hilt

down sharply on Landor's head. The courtier sighed and pitched forward.

Kieron sheathed his weapon and picked the unconscious man up like a

sack of meal. Time was short. The guards would be returning to escort

Landor to Freka. Kieron picked up the courtier's fallen sword. There

must be no sign of struggle in the courtyard.

The Valkyr carried Landor over to where Alys and Nevitta had lowered

their improvised rope. He trussed Landor up like a butchered boar and

called to them. "Haul him up!"

Landor disappeared into the window and the rope came down again. Kieron

climbed hand over hand after the vanished courtier. Within seconds he

stood among his warriors again, and the courtyard was empty.

* * * * *

"Landor!" Kieron splashed wine in the unconscious man's face. "Landor,

wake up!"

The courtier stirred and opened his eyes. Immediately they filmed with

fear. A hostile circle of faces looked down at him. Kieron, his dark

eyes flaming. Alys ... the great red face of Nevitta, framed by the

winged helmet ... other savage looking Valkyrs. It was to Landor a

scene from the legendary Seventh Hell of the Great Destroyer.

"If you want to live, talk," said Kieron. "What are you doing here on

Kalgan? It must be a message of importance you carry. Ivane would have

sent someone else if it weren't."

"I ... I carry no message, Kieron."

Kieron nodded to Nevitta who drew his dagger and placed it against

Landor's throat.

"We have no time for lies, Landor," said Kieron.

To emphasize the point, Nevitta pressed the blade tighter against the

pulse in the First Lord's neck. Landor screamed.

"Don't...!"

"Talk--or I'll cut the gizzard out of you!" Nevitta growled.

"All right! All right! But take that knife away...!"

"Ivane sent you here."

Landor nodded soundlessly.

"Why?"

"I ... I ... was to tell Freka that ... that his men failed to ...

to...."

"To kill me!" finished Alys angrily. "What else?"

"I ... was also to tell him that the rest of the plan was ... was ...

carried out ... successfully."

"Damn you, don't talk in riddles!" Kieron said. "What 'plan'?"

"The ... the Emperor is dead," Landor blurted, eyes wild with terror.

"But not by my hand! I swear it! Not by my hand!"

Alys choked back a cry of pain.

"Toran! Poor ... Toran...."

Kieron took the terrified courtier by the throat and shook him.

"You filthy swine! Who did it? _Who killed the Emperor?_"

"_Ivane!_" gasped Landor. "The people do not know he is dead and she

awaits the star-king's invasion to proclaim herself Empress...! In the

gods' name, Kieron, don't kill me! I speak the truth!"

"Freka helped plan this?" demanded Kieron.

"He is Ivane's man," stammered Landor, "but I know nothing of him!

Nothing, Kieron! The warlock Geller brought him to Ivane five years

ago ... that is all I know!"

Geller of the Marshes ... again. Kieron felt the awful dread seeping

through his anger. Somehow the connection between Geller and Freka must

be discovered. Somehow...!

Kieron turned away from the terrified Landor. The picture was shaping

now. Freka and Ivane. The star-kings' rebellion. Toran ... murdered.

"Keep this hound under guard!" ordered Kieron.

Landor was led away, shaken and weak.

"Nevitta!"

"Sir?"

"You and the princess will go back to the ship as you came. She must

be taken to safety at once. As soon as that pig is missed, we'll have

visitors...."

"No, Kieron! I won't go!" cried Alys.

"You must. If you are captured on Kalgan now it will mean a _carte

blanche_ for Ivane."

"But then you must come!"

"I can't. If I tried to leave here now, Freka would detain me by force.

I know his plans." He turned again to Nevitta. "She goes with you,

Nevitta. By force if necessary.

"Return to Valkyr and gather the tribes. We can do nothing without men

at our backs. One of the ships will remain here with me and the men. We

will try to get clear after we are certain that--" He looked over at

the slim girl, his eyes sombre--"that Her Majesty is safe."

The Valkyr warriors in the room straightened, a subtle change in their

expression as they watched Alys. A gulf had suddenly opened between

this girl and their chieftain. They felt it too. One by one they

dropped to their knees before her. Alys made a protesting gesture,

her eyes bright with tears. She saw the chasm opening, and fought it

futilely. But when Kieron, too, went to his knees, she knew it was

_so_. In one fleeting moment, they had changed from lover and beloved

to sovereign and vassal.

She forced back the tears and raised her head proudly; as Galactic

Empress, Heiress to the Thousand Emperors, she accepted the homage of

her fighting men.

"My lord of Valkyr," she said in a low, unsteady voice. "My love and

affection for you--and these warriors will never be forgotten. If we

live...."

Kieron rose to his full height, naked sword extended in his hands.

"Your Imperial Majesty," he spoke the words formally and slowly,

regretting what was gone. "The men of Valkyr are yours. To the death."

* * * * *

Kieron watched Nevitta and Alys vanish down the long, gloomy hall

outside the Valkyr chambers--to all appearances a warrior chieftain

and his slave-girl ordered away by their master. Even then, thought

Kieron bleakly, there was danger. He saw them pass one sentry, two ...

three.... They turned the corner and were gone, Kieron's hopes and

fears riding with them.

Already, there were sounds of confusion in the Citadel of Neg. Men were

searching for the vanished Landor. Searching quietly, reflected Kieron

with grim satisfaction, for the visiting star-kings must not know that

Freka the Unknown held familiar audience with the Imperial First Lord

of Space. Spur of the moment hunting parties and entertainments were

keeping the visitors occupied while the Kalgan soldiery searched.

Kieron weighed his chances of escape and found them small indeed.

They dared not stir from their quarters in the Citadel until the roar

of Nevitta's spaceship told that the Empress was safely away. And

meanwhile, the search for Landor drew nearer.

An hour passed, the sand in the glass running with agonizing slowness.

Once Kieron thought he heard the beat of hooves on the drawbridge of

the Citadel, but he could not be certain.

Two hours. Kieron paced the floor of the Valkyr chambers, his twelve

remaining warriors armed, alert, watching him. Nervously he fingered

the hilt of his sword.

Another hour in the grey, eternal twilight. Still no sound of a

spaceship rising. Kieron's anxiety grew to gargantuan proportions. The

search for Landor came closer steadily. Kieron could hear the soldiers

tramping the stone corridors and causeways of the Citadel.

Suddenly there was a knock at the barred door to the Valkyrs' quarters.

"Open! In the name of the lord of Kalgan!"