will march with you
to overcome your enemy."

The idea caught instant hold. Moments later the group of fifty had
swollen to three times that number as cell after cell of the lower three
levels of Jaltor's pits were emptied.

There were some of the prisoners who held back, preferring to remain
behind bars rather than become involved in a war between noblemen;
while others had spent too long below ground to be little more than
empty shells of men.

It was on the fourth level that they found several rooms furnished as
quarters for the guards stationed in this wing of the palace. An
ante-room contained a large supply of spears, bows and arrows and
knives, but guards were on duty at that point, while a dozen others
slept in the adjoining room.

After a brief council of war, it was decided that Tharn and Trakor would
attempt to creep up on the two guards on duty just within the entrance
to the arms-room and overpower them without permitting an alarm to be
given. Should they succeed in doing this, it would be a simple matter to
bar the only exit to the sleeping quarters, thus effectively keeping
Jotan's men from being surprised from the rear by Jaltor's warriors.

While the embryo army waited on the level below, Tharn and young Trakor
crept up the next ramp and moved stealthily toward their goal. Almost at
once Trakor returned, a broad grin creasing his face, and beckoned the
others to join him.

* * * * *

They found both guards bound and gagged, the door into the guard's
quarters closed and barred, and weapons enough for an army at their
disposal. With muffled cries of joy the men swept up bows, arrows,
spears and knives; and what a few minutes before had been an unarmed mob
was now a small compact army of disciplined men, ready to win amnesty
and a nobleman's favor by helping to expose a traitor.

So great was the excitement, so strong the exultation of them all, that
none noticed one of the recently freed prisoners detach himself from the
group and steal back into the corridor. An instant later this man was
fleeing rapidly up the final ramp, on his way to freedom.

For more than an hour now the palace and grounds of Vokal, nobleman of
Ammad, had been the scene of great activity. Every guard, every servant,
scoured the four floors and palace grounds, inch by inch, in search for
the girl who had fled Vokal's room.

While seemingly everywhere at once, the silver-haired nobleman spur