at the base of the Octagon
Tower. They had a full Thoran rifle company with them. As he went down
to them, Dorflay hurried forward.

"It has come, Your Majesty!" he said, as soon as he could make himself
heard without raising his voice. "We are all ready to die with Your
Majesty!"

"Oh, I doubt it'll come quite to that, Harv," he said. "But just to be
on the safe side, take that company and the gentlemen who are with you
and get up to the mountains and join the Crown Prince and his party.
Here." He took a notepad from his belt pouch and wrote rapidly, sealing
the note and giving it to Dorflay. "Give this to His Highness, and place
yourself under his orders. I know; he's just a boy, but he has a good
head. Obey him exactly in everything, but under no circumstances return
to the Palace or allow him to return until I call you."

"Your Majesty is ordering me away?" The old soldier was aghast.

"An emperor who has a son can be spared. An emperor's son who is too
young to marry can't. You know that."

Harv Dorflay was only mad on one subject, and even within the frame of
his madness he was intensely logical. He nodded. "Yes, Your Imperial
Majesty. We both serve the Empire as best we can. And I will guard the
little Princess Olva, too." He grasped Paul's hand, said, "Farewell,
Your Majesty!" and dashed away, gathering his staff and the company of
Thorans as he went. In an instant, they had vanished down the nearest
rampway.

The emperor watched their departure, and, at the same time, saw a big
black aircar, bearing the three-mooned planet, argent on sable, of
Travann, let down onto the south landing stage, and another troop
carrier let down after it. Four men left the aircar--Yorn, Prince
Travann, and three officers in the black of the Security Guard. Prince
Ganzay had also left the table: he came from one direction as Prince
Travann advanced from the other. They converged on the emperor.

"What's happening here, Prince Travann?" Prince Ganzay demanded. "Why
are you bringing all these troops to the Palace?"

"Your Majesty," Prince Travann said smoothly, "I trust that you will
pardon this disturbance. I'm sure nothing serious will happen, but I
didn't dare take chances. The students from the University are marching
on the Palace--perfectly peaceful and loyal procession; they're bringing
a petition for Your Majesty--but on the way, while passing through a
nonworkers' district, they were attacked by a gang of hooligans