ront of him, to allow
him and a few others to pass through; the rest of the guests remained
standing at the table, facing toward the inside of the room. Garnon's
son, Girzon, and the gray-mustached Nirzav of Shonna, walked on his
left; Dallona of Hadron and Dr. Harnosh of Hosh on his right. The
gray-clad upper-servant, and two or three ladies, and a nobleman with
a small chin-beard, and several others, joined them; of those who had
sat close to Garnon, only the man in the black tunic with the scarlet
badge hung back. He stood still, by the break in the table, watching
Garnon of Roxor walk away from him. Then Dirzed the Assassin drew the
pistol he had lately received as a gift, hefted it in his hand,
thumbed off the safety, and aimed at the back of Garnon's head.

They had nearly reached the end of the room when the pistol cracked.
Dallona of Hadron started, almost as though the bullet had crashed
into her own body, then caught herself and kept on walking. She closed
her eyes and laid a hand on Dr. Harnosh's arm for guidance,
concentrating her mind upon a single question. The others went on as
though Garnon of Roxor were still walking among them.

"Look!" Harnosh of Hosh cried, pointing to the image in the visiplate
ahead. "He's under control!"

They all stopped short, and Dirzed, holstering his pistol, hurried
forward to join them. Behind, a couple of servants had approached with
a stretcher and were gathering up the crumpled figure that had, a
moment ago, been Garnon.

A change had come over the boy at the writing machine. His eyes were
still glazed with the stupor of the hypnotic trance, but the slack jaw
had stiffened, and the loose mouth was compressed in a purposeful
line. As they watched, his hands went out to the keyboard in front of
him and began to move over it, and as they did, letters appeared on
the white screen on the left.

_Garnon of Roxor, discarnate, communicating_, they read. The machine
stopped for a moment, then began again. _To Dallona of Hadron: The
question you asked, after I discarnated, was: What was the last book I
read, before the feast? While waiting for my valet to prepare my bath,
I read the first ten verses of the fourth Canto of "Splendor of
Space," by Larnov of Horka, in my bedroom. When the bath was ready, I
marked the page with a strip of message tape, containing a message
from the bailiff of my estate on the Shevva River, concerning a
breakdown at the power plant, and laid the b