to the custody of the church on the
condition that I'll be turned back to you if I can't prove everything
I say."

Candar pushed himself to his feet. Thane could see the veins throbbing
in his forehead. "That's enough!" The harsh voice mounted to a roar.
"You have insulted Onzar and its ruler." He turned to his officers.
"Take him out. We'll see what he knows, and how much he can stand
before his death."

* * * * *

The room they entered was a spotlessly clean room, an antiseptic room.
Thane wondered how often the blood was scrubbed from the floor as he
recognized the instruments.

They pushed him into a chair and strapped him down. "Now let's see
what he'll take," Candar said. The commander himself applied the
fittings and turned on the switches. Then the pain came. In long
shivering waves. No body pain. Just pure pain, applied directly to the
synapses of his brain. It was unbearable--and then it got worse. It
went up and up. Through a dim red haze, Thane saw Candar shove the
dial up still another notch. Then he blanked out.

As he came back he looked up at them. Stinging drops of sweat blurred
his vision but he managed to smile. "Now try your psychograph. Just
try it. Here's what you'll read: _conditioned against physical
torture. Brain waves lack stable pattern. History inconsistent.
Standard drug susceptibility predicted negative._ Then decide,
friends, if I'm bluffing."

Candar growled, "Do as he says."

The test was run. They looked at the results. All three of them walked
over to the corner of the room behind him. With his head strapped he
could not see them. He heard their conversation in undertones. He
broke in. "There's your choice, Candar. Kill me or turn me over to the
church. And if you're afraid to know what's coming, if you're afraid
to know how you're going to die, you'd better kill me now."

There was a long silence. Then Candar: "Unstrap him." Candar walked up
and stood before him as the straps were taken off. "You'll curse
yourself for postponing the end, if this is a trick. The transfer
papers will be prepared now." He gestured to the commander. "Bring him
back to my chambers, and call the emissary of the church." The door
slammed jarringly behind him as he strode out.

When the conditions were made out, signed and countersigned and
sealed, and a copy transmitted to the Cathedral of Keltar, and when
the young emissary in cloth-of-gold had signed the receipt