he
Wayfarers who had witnessed Prince Jlomec's death. The man,
unconscious, his head propped high on pillows, was the white giant who
once on the Plains of Ofrid had almost strangled Retoc.

A hatred such as he had never known flashed through Retoc's brain. He
was so close he could see the gentle up-and-down motion of the giant's
chest as he breathed. Then, beyond the platform, he saw Volna. Volna
smiled at him. The platform bobbed by, was placed on the barge at the
foot of Jlomec's bier. The remaining hawsers were cut loose.

There was, Retoc thought triumphantly, no return from the Place of the
Dead.

But still, the white giant had recovered from what looked like certain
death once, had vanished abruptly and fantastically when he would have
died again. What was good enough for Volna the Beautiful was not
necessarily good enough for Retoc of Abaria. He watched only long
enough to see the royal barge pushed out into the icy currents of the
river, then he turned and made his way to the second tier of
observers, where Hultax stood among the lesser nobility and the
military officers of the planet Tarth. He found Hultax and whispered
for a time in his ear.

* * * * *

Hultax's face blanched. "But lord," he protested, "there is no return ...
it is obvious the man will die ... you couldn't expect me to...." Hultax,
frightened, confused, could neither think clearly nor express himself
properly. His mouth hung open.

[Illustration: The boar charged while death and the Golden Ape stood
grinning.]

"Earlier, Hultax," Retoc said with a hard smile, "you craved action. I
give you action. Take a boat. There are some moored down-river for the
use of Nadian priests on their religious pilgrimages to the banks
where the stilt-birds dwell. Overtake the royal barge. Board it. Slay
the man and the woman."

"But I--the Place of the Dead...."

"Fool!" hissed Retoc. "I didn't ask you to visit the Place of the
Dead. That's up to you. If you slay them first, on the River of Ice,
and can bring back proof ... but the longer we talk, the further they
are. You'll go?"

It was phrased as a question; actually, it was a command. Grim-faced,
the whip-sword trailing at his side, Hultax left the crowd of soldiers
and made his way downstream. A few moments later he had poled a wooden
skiff out into the icy current and went down-river in pursuit of the
royal barge.

* * * * *

T