“It was an evil day that the Galactic explorers landed here,” said Valtan glumly.

“To date, yes,” answered Yorm. “Of course, it was more or less accidental. If they had known we are a carnivorous people to whom combat is a psychological necessity, they would probably have left us in our feudal state. As it was, the introduction of Galactic technology soon enabled Mordh to subjugate the rest of the planet.” His yellow eyes flamed. “And now…now we could go out and fight on a more glorious scale than the old heroes dreamed…go out conquering among the stars!”

“Except that Franna holds the king slothful while we eat our hearts in tameness and kill ourselves in silly little private duels for lack of better occupation,” said Valtan. “But we are sworn by our honor to obey the king. What to do? What to do?”

“Kill her,” snarled another.

“Little use—the king would know who had done that, and have us all slain—and soon the Patrol would find some other agent of control,” said Dorlok. “No, the king must go, too.”

Yorm shook his head. “I won’t do it. No one in my family ever broke his word and I won’t be the first.”

“It is a hard choice—” mused Valtan.

In the end, seven of the great earls of Mordh were prepared to assassinate the king. The others held back but Dorlok had, before calling this meeting, sworn them to secrecy about it. They would not help in the killing, but they would not hinder it and be glad enough to see it done.

Dorlok swept his cloak about him.

“I’ll let you know my arrangements tomorrow,” he said.

He went to a certain remote room in the castle and let himself in with a special key. She was waiting, and his heart turned over at her loveliness.

“Well?” she asked.

His voice was thick as he gave her the names of the rebellious earls. She nodded gravely. “I’ll see that they are arrested tonight,” she said. “They’ll have their choice—exile to the second planet or suicide.”

Dorlok sat down, burying his head in two brawny hands, the other two hanging limp in his lap. “Now I’m forever damned,” he groaned. “I really, deep inside, believe in what I told them when I was provoking them. Those ‘weak links’ were actually the hope of Mordh. And I’ve sold them—for you.” He lifted desperate eyes. “And I’m even betraying my lord the king, with you,” he said hopelessly. “I love you—and I curse the day I saw you.”

Franna stroked his mane. “Poor Dorlok,” she murmured softly. “Poor, helpless, honest warrior.”

* * *

Alak abandoned his car in an alley near the spaceport and set out on foot through the dark tangle of narrow streets and passageways which was the Old City. The decayed district clustered on the west side of the port and its warehouses, and had become the hangout of most of the city’s criminal elements. It was not wise to go alone after dark through its dreary huddle, and twilight was beginning to creep over the capital. But Alak had no choice—and he had become used to such thieves’ quarters.