e lower branches,
took a long and cautious look around, his ears and nose alert for some
sign of life. Nothing.

Dropping to the ground, the cave lord ran lightly toward that corner of
the palace around which those six guards had disappeared more than half
an hour before. He was within feet of his goal when a sudden chorus of
shrill cries from behind him broke the silence.

A single glance over his shoulder told him the story. The ground patrol
had chosen this particular moment to reappear!

* * * * *

Once Dylara had been thrust not ungently within a room off a fourth
floor corridor and its door barred from the outside, Trakor was turned
over to a single guard to be taken to one of the slave dormitories. From
the cave youth's appearance of utter hopelessness, the dispirited droop
of his shoulders, it was clear all fight had gone out of him since
Ammad's gates had closed at his back. He shuffled wearily along the hall
ahead of his yawning guard, down a flight of stairs to the third level
and along a lengthy corridor, lined with doors and completely deserted
at this hour.

At the corridor's far end loomed two massive doors, heavily barred.
While Trakor stood passively by, head hanging listlessly, the Ammadian
put down his spear and reached with both hands to lift free the broad
bar. In so doing he momentarily turned his back to the cave youth--and
that momentary lapse spelled his doom.

Steel fingers closed about his throat, a naked leg tripped him up and he
was flat on his back before his lips opened to a cry that was never
uttered. Blindly the guard sought to reach the knife at his belt; but
Trakor, anticipating this, ground a knee into that wrist.

The man's heels hammered spasmodically against the stone in mute agony
and fear and his by no means weak body thrashed and bucked. But those
fingers only tightened their hold.

Trakor, his face only inches from that of the enemy, saw those
fear-filled eyes start from their sockets, saw lips and cheeks turn dark
with constricted blood, felt the broad chest beneath his rise and fall
wildly as the lungs fought for air.

For several minutes after the Ammadian warrior lay limp and still
beneath him Trakor kept his fingers buried in that lifeless throat.
Finally he rose shakily to his feet and looked down upon the body of
his first kill. Exultation filled him, and pride--and a strange sense of
sadness....

He shook his head briefly as i