The Hierarch shrugged. "I tell you Stasor is a four-plane man, one not
bound by our three dimensions. He and his kind have gone on to that
other world. They left behind them rules to guide those who came after
them. They left the pools. They were a great race, the Elders, and the
black pools are their greatest discovery. Those rules they gave us are
contained in the Book of Nard. I want that book!"
"Why?"
The Hierarch smiled gently. "With the secrets of the Elders at my
fingertips do you think the Diktor could keep us penned here in the
Citadel?"
A faint hope burned in Angus' chest. "You mean, you wouldn't be
cloistered any more? That you'd give your science to the people and
help them up?"
"Pah!" snapped the Hierarch. "The people? Pigs! They wallow in their
filths and love it." His burning black eyes glittered fanatically. "No.
I mean I--and not the Diktor--will rule all Karr!"
He is mad, too, thought Angus. He and the Diktor--mad with the lust
for power. If the Diktor dies and the Hierarch rules the people will
change a bootheel for a mortar and pestle. _Even the stars must revolt
against that._