ned wine rather than fruit juice. After a few long
swallows the Amphib's eyes became red and a silly grin curved his
thin, black-edged lips. Finally, in a thickening voice, he asked for
another bottle.

Rastignac, in a sudden burst of generosity, not only gave him one, but
began passing out bottles to the many eager reaching hands. Mapfarity
and the two egg-thieves helped him. In a short time, the pile of
bottles had dwindled to a fourth of its former height. When a mixed
group of guards strode up and demanded to know what the commotion was
about, Rastignac gave them some of the bottles.

Meanwhile, Archambaud slipped off into the mob. He lurched into an
Amphib, said something nasty about his ancestors, and pulled his
knife. When the Amphib lunged for the little man, Archambaud jumped
back and shoved a Human-Amphib into the giant flipper-like arms.

Within a minute the square had erupted into a fighting mob.
Staggering, red-eyed, slur-tongued, their long-repressed hostility
against each other, released by the liquor which their bodies were
unaccustomed to, Human, Ssassaror and Amphib fell to with the utmost
will, slashing, slugging, fighting with everything they had.

None of them noticed that every one who had drunk from the bottles had
lost his Skin. The Skins had fallen off one by one and lay motionless
on the pavement where they were kicked or stepped upon. Not one Skin
tried to crawl back to its owner because they were all nerve-numbed by
the wine.

Rastignac, seated behind the wheel of the Jeep, began driving as best
he could through the battling mob. After frequent stops he halted
before the broad marble steps that ran like a stairway to heaven, up
and up before it ended on the Porpoise Porch of the Palace. He and his
gang were about to take the two heavy chests off the wagon when they
were transfixed by a scene before them.

A score of dead Humans and Amphibs lay on the steps, evidence of the
fierce struggle that had taken place between the guards of the two
monarchs. Evidently the King had heard of the riot and hastened
outside. There the Amphib-changeling King had apparently realized that
the rebellion was way ahead of schedule, but he had attacked the
Amphib King anyway.

And he had won, for his guardsmen held the struggling flipper-footed
Amphib ruler down while two others bent his head back over a step. The
Changeling-King himself, still clad in the coronation robes, was about
to draw his long cere