It was quite different from the throne room in the castle of Wannome where Elfa's father held court.

Placed on a raised central dais instead of at the far end of the room were three high-backed chairs. The dais was mounted on a huge, carved stone disk which cleared the floor by a centimeter or two, leading Ethan to suspect it could revolve. Decorative mosaics and reliefs filled curving walls, alternating with windows that looked out onto island and harbor. They depicted the six surrounding crag-crowned islands.

Undoubtedly the Tran slumped into the center chair and staring at them was Rakossa, Solace of the Six Peaks and so on. Compared to the ruling Tran Ethan had encountered thus far, he seemed to be very young. There was no white in his gray fur, no crinkling of the skin beneath. He guessed the Landgrave to be, in human-equivalent terms, younger than himself.

Of the two other Tran seated on either side, one was an older male, the other a young female.

Advi-sors, he mused, or perhaps queen and father. He ex-amined the gargoyle-lined stone disk again, wondered at the mechanism that powered it.

All three were in turn studying their five visitors with obvious interest, though different expressions.

Valsht approached the throne, halted a correct dis-tance from it. "Your pardon, sir, but I have duties I must return to." The young Landgrave dismissed the harbormaster with a diffident gesture. Valsht turned, hurried past the visitors. As he pa.s.sed, he favored Ethan with a brief, complex, inexplicable stare.

No one spoke or moved. Finally Hunnar stepped forward. "My breath is your warmth, sirs and madame. We come to you from a far distant land hight Sofold. We come to forge what we hope will be a union, a confederation of many island-states for the pur-pose of dealing on fair and equal terms with strange new friends from offworld. These friends," and he indicated Ethan and September.

"They bring great promise and fortune to all Tran who will have the foresight, as your highness surely will, to join in this unifying proposal. I realize that this thought is?"

Without warning the Landgrave rose, thrust a trem-bling clawed finger at them. "Liars! Offspring of guttorbyn! You bring promise of naught but enslave-ment and poverty!"

Of all the visitors, only September was not so shocked that he couldn't mutter: "That does it."

Ethan whirled, staring dumbfounded at the giant.

"I knew there was something wrong, lad. When the harbormaster was escorting us here, we pa.s.sed through the heart of town. And we were a.s.siduously avoided. No one except the cubs gave us so much as a curious glance, except the soldiers here in the castle, and even they didn't act too excited. Contrast that with the stares and inquiries we got from the crews of other rafts.

"Means there's been other humans here before you and me. Or else," and he glanced at the third figure seated on the dais, the distinguished looking older Tran whom Ethan had guessed to be an advisor or royal sire, "word of us."

"That is the first truth you have spoken," said the young Landgrave angrily. He gestured to the softly smiling Tran on his right. " 'Twas fortunate that my good friend here, Calonnin RoVijar, Landgrave of Arsudun, arrived but two precious days ago. He told me of your infamous plans to enslave and make servants of the independent peoples of my world, beginning with Poyolavomaar."

Hunnar took a couple of steps toward the dais, his hand going toward his sword hilt. "RoVijar, was it you who had our ship a.s.saulted off your south coast and the Elf a KurdaghVlata kidnapped?"

The older Tran stood, looked imperiously at them. He acted as cool as the air blowing through the open windows. "I did indeed wish you on your way to the afterlife, traitor, to prevent the spread of your evil intentions."

If the confrontation had begun badly, it was still capable of deteriorating. Ethan moved toward the throne. "Your highness," he said desperately, "it's RoVijar, who lies to protect his own monopoly and trade with my people, to poison your mind against us. He trades truth for money."

"Silence and quiet!" Rakossa looked nauseated. "We will not credit the broken words of a hairless k'nith who masquerades as a true person. Your falsehoods do not touch us."

Ethan saw the eyes of Rakossa, wild and fearful, dangerous and cunning. Yellow with cat-pupils, they were not human eyes, but there is something in the gaze of a madman that transcends shape, reaches across genetic distances. There was nothing to be gained by arguing with Tonx Ghin Rakossa. His mind was made up. Logic and reason would only antagonize him.

Only in the near-neutral expression of the female consort, who had not spoken, was there a hint of some-thing else. It might be sympathy, it might be sadism. Ethan couldn't tell.

Hunnar's sword came half free of its scabbard. Several of the mosaic walls moved inward, revealed compartments behind which disgorged dozens of armed Tran. Hunnar stopped.

"Fight and die here," said a tight-voiced Rakossa, "or wait 'til you are properly judged."

"Sounds like that has been done already," Tersund murmured softly.

The Landgrave continued; he looked vastly pleased with himself. "Your ship is already taken, the sailors aboard already imprisoned. As are those who scat-tered themselves thoughtlessly throughout my city. You will greet them again in the dungeons below."

Meanwhile Ethan was counting the surrounding pack. They filled the circular chamber until they stood shoulder to dan. Better to die here than-.

He felt a hand cover his beamer as he moved to draw it. "No, young feller-me-lad. There are too many and likely more behind these. Life is chance, death the absence of opportunity. We've nothin' to lose by waiting and hoping."

"What chance will we have without beamers, Skua?" But he left the weapon at his waist nonetheless.

RoVijar stepped off the dais and approached them. Without hesitation he undipped Ethan's beamer, then September's, lastly Williams'.

Other guards began disarming Hunnar and Ter-sund. Then they were escorted from the room. Tran bodies were packed so tightly around them they could hardly move without stepping on sharp-chived feet.

"RoVijar's the liar, your highness!" Ethan shouted over a shoulder. "He has money in place of a soul!"

Trying hard not to smile, RoVijar whispered to the Landgrave. "Do not tilt your ears to the words of the skyoutlanders, mighty ruler of mighty state. They are truly more advanced than we poor Tran-in matters of falsehood and deception. You must constantly be-ware their subtle intonations."

"Do not worry, friend Calonnin. We do not intend to pay the slightest attention to their degrading speech."

"Why not," the Landgrave of Arsudun suggested casually as the captives exited from the chamber, "kill them now and save s.p.a.ce in your prison?"

With his usual unnerving quickness, Rakossa turned on RoVijar. "We have listened to you because we be-lieve in your good advice, friend and fellow ruler Calonnin. Do not think that because of our youth we will be impetuous instead of methodical. They will be granted fair trial."

"That is only just," Calonnin responded, barely hid-ing his disappointment. He was anxious to be on his way back to Arsudun. This distant trading city held only crude delights and he wished the more sophisticated comforts Trell had provided for him. "I meant no disrespect. It is merely that I despise these pale tricksters so."

"No offense is taken." Rakossa looked to the door where the prisoners had been taken, spoke thought-fully. "They will be tried and judged fairly. Only then will they be killed."

Calonnin had a pleasing thought. "There is a thing to be considered, your highness. There is much to be learned from those Tran who have been corrupted by the hairless devils. It might best be learned by myself, who has had the most experience with them. I would have one of the prisoners to question."

"As you desire. Which of them do you wish?"

Calonnin permitted himself an ugly grin. It is amaz-ing what unpleasant thoughts can be communicated between two decadents of similar mind by a mere ges-ture or grimace. The girl still sitting silently on her chair was able to divine Calonnin's intent from her Landgrave's responding smile.

She did not smile.

Hunnar temporarily lost his control when Elfa was separated from them and hauled off by a cl.u.s.ter of soldiery. Fortunately, their own escort was evidently under orders not to damage the prisoners, since they only knocked the raging knight unconscious.

Ethan counted three, perhaps four, underground levels as they descended. The location of the lowermost dungeon had an unexpected benefit which neither of the humans had considered.

Since their cells were located far below the surface, they were unaffected by wind or severe changes in air temperature. So the dungeon was actually warmer than the castle above. This made imprisoned Tran uncomfortable, the local concept of a miserable dun-geon being one that was too warm rather than too cold.

The lowest stone and mortar level was filled with large barred cells. The bars were made of polished hardwood instead of valuable metal. Ethan tested one, using the waist buckle of his survival suit. It would take a long time for him to cut through the treated, supertough wood with the stelamic buckle. A prisoner using a bone knife would die of old age before com-pleting the task. Each bar was as thick as September's thigh. They were laid diagonally across the cell entrance.

Cries of recognition and despair greeted them when they reached the lowest level. The cells con-tained the crew of the _Slanderscree_, as Rakossa had intimated.

During the next several hours, other groups of pro-testing, complaining sailors were bought in. Some were wounded, some drunk. No matter their condition, they were shoved and kicked into fresh cells to join their sullen companions.

Tahoding landed in the cell apparently reserved for officers, knights, and hairless devils. He drew him-self up and counted off the a.s.sembled prisoners. The entire crew was there. That meant no hope of outside rescue and little hope of inside escape.

"Where's our better chance, our opportunity, Skua?" Ethan couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice, even though he was fully aware that fighting in the throne chamber would have meant his death hours ago.

"We're still alive, feller-me-lad," September replied without rancor. "Patient you can be, if optimistic feels uncomfortable. Me, I've been in worse situations. A time with my brother, now-" He paused a moment before continuing again.

"We're alive down here. That's better than bein' dead upstairs."

"RoVijar was behind everything all along: the fight in the tavern in Arsudun, the attack on the raft, and now he's telling this Rakossa lies so he'll do his killing for him."

"You've got to admire the beauty of it," said September. "If any peaceforcers come snooping around, RoVijar can blame our pa.s.sin' on this Rakossa fellow, who doesn't strike me as dancing with both feet."

"But how," Ethan asked morosely, "could he win Rakossa over to his way of thinking so quickly?"

"I fear 'tis not difficult to imagine- _sief_, my head." Hunnar, having regained his senses, sat wearily against a cold wall. "RoVijar is a Landgrave himself. If he could prove such to another ruler like this Rakossa, as he evidently has succeeded in doing, it would give much credence to his claims. His opinion would be much respected. The more so since he is older than Rakossa.

"Also he is Tran. Though it pains me to admit, my people are more likely to believe one of their own than some strange being such as yourself, friend Ethan, who could as likely be a daemon or a servant of the Dark One." He shrugged, suddenly tired.

"Then too, it is not hard to imagine the creature RoVijar offering this creature Rakossa a share in Arsudun's offworld trade. So he is safe both ways, to his way of thinking. He strikes me as ambitious and a bit mad."

"He doesn't need to do even that," September said. "Rakossa already has gained the _Slanderscree_.

Oh, RoVijar will argue that it's rightfully his, but he'll let Rakossa argue him out of it, in return for killing us. He's after bigger stakes, RoVijar is. Don't forget, he's got three modern hand beamers. They're worth a d.a.m.n sight more on this planet than _two_ ice riggers."

Hunnar crawled over to the bars, stood, and kicked at them. His sharp chiv barely produced three parallel scratches in the wood. There were many, similar sets of scratches.

"What do we do now?" Ethan couldn't stand to watch Hunnar stubbornly, hopelessly expending his strength on the bars.

"Young feller-me-lad, I don't know."

The giant moved to a back corner. Though of con-siderable size, the cell floor had been well matted with pikapina fragments. September stretched out on them, put his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

"Fer now, I'm going to sleep."

"How is it," Ethan said wonderingly, "that you can always sleep when your life's in danger?"

September closed his eyes, shutting out cell and com-panions. "Well for one thing, lad, if they chose that time to kill you, you'd never know it happened."

Ethan would have argued, but he was as exhausted as he was discouraged.

The old matting proved unexpectedly comfortable.

IX.

"Wake up."

Rolling over, Ethan opened one eye. He was lying by himself near the bars. Who could be talking to him in the middle of the night?

"Wake _up_!" The voice was more insistent.

Dried pikapina fiber crackled like burning bugs as he got awkwardly to his knees and stared out into the dim light of the pa.s.sageway. Torches illuminated cells and walkway between.

The voice hadn't sounded like that of the cellkeeper, a phlegmatic Tran who appeared periodically to make certain the outland daemons hadn't burrowed free of their prison by some unknown magical means.

But a dimly silhouetted shape was pressing against the bars close by. It was a Tran, which was expected. It was also female, which was not. Yellow cat eyes glowed by torchlight.

"Please," the voice said anxiously, the eyes turning briefly to glance down the corridor. "There will be a change of cellmaster before too long. We must use every minute."

Having decided that he was not dreaming, Ethan climbed to his feet. As he approached the bars, he finally recognized the speaker.

That gave him his biggest shock yet.

"But you're Rakossa's queen-?"

The girl expectorated, following it with a degrading word. "He calls me his concubine. The court refers to me as royal consort. I am his chivstool, for he wipes his feet on me." Her voice held more hatred and bitterness than Ethan imagined possible. Each word was soaked in vitriol, every sentence washed with venom. Yet she spoke quietly and with control.

"I hight Teeliam Hoh, outlander. I was purchased to be less than a pet. Queen-" Fury kept her from laughing. "I am a thing he uses, plays with, like a favorite sword, yet the sword is cared for and treated better than I."

Ethan was looking down the corridor himself now. "You mentioned a change of cellmaster. What about the one on duty now? He'll be coming?"

"Nowhere," she finished for him. "He and the other guard are dead. I cut their throats."

Her hands fumbled at the old metal lock which sealed the cell. Mumblings and questions sounded be-hind Ethan as the noises and activity woke others.

"Then _you_ believe us," Ethan said excitedly, watch-ing her hands work the heavy, ornate key. "You know RoVijar for the liar he is."

"I do not know the Landgrave of Arsudun for any-thing but the trail a dung crawler leaves behind itself after a meal."

"If you don't know whether he's lying or not, then why are you doing this for us?"

Her bared teeth shone at him. "You think I do this for you? I do it for her." She gestured up the corridor, returned to the lock and key.

Ethan looked in the indicated direction, made out the shape of a second figure. "Elfa." Something clicked and then the door swung open easily. Tran in other cells were awake now, watching and murmuring tensely. Teeliam moved to free them.

Ethan moved toward Elfa, smiling happily. He stopped a meter away, and stared. Just stared. His disbelief was too great for him to curse the reality of what he saw.

The beautiful cat face was bruised and marred, one eye swollen almost shut. There were large patches of smooth fur missing, and places singed and blackened as if by fire. Elfa did not smile at him. In fact, her attention seemed rooted on the floor, though it was in a different place altogether. She held both arms tight around herself. The clothing she wore was simple, not what she'd been wearing when taken away from the rest of them.

Teeliam Hoh, having given the keys to other Tran, had come to stand next to Ethan. He turned a wordless, openmouthed gaze to her.

"I know the inner pa.s.sages of the castle," she said, less bitterly now. "I knew one of you had been brought for questioning. Through a c.h.i.n.k I saw how this RoVijar asked questions, how nothing he said or did could be credited to a true Landgraveprotector.

"While I could not know the truth of what he said about you, I did know that everything else he claimed should be treated as a lie, for he lives and that is an untruth of itself." She looked away from him, at the floor, then at Elfa.

"Rakossa was with him, watching, relishing the spec-tacle. After a while, he deigned to partic.i.p.ate."