The door to the apartments opened and Voltan moved into sight. He was wearing his black and silver armour, and was carrying a gladius. 'You are a hard man to kill, Majesty,' he said. The guards stepped aside and drew their swords. But they made no attempt to attack or restrain Voltan.

'You are a thorough man,' said the emperor softly. 'How many of my guards have you turned against me?'

'These three only,' said Voltan. 'You chose well with the others. Singularly loyal and dreadfully dull.'

Bane stood silently by, ready for the attack. Jasaray seemed unconcerned. 'You might have waited until my death before invading my apartments,' he told Voltan. 'It is such bad manners.'

'My apologies, Majesty,' answered Voltan, with a smile. 'I wouldn't want to be considered rude. But I thought a dozen men and a tiger would be enough. Are you ready to die now?'

'I think no man is ever ready to die, Voltan. Tell me, how will you make it look like an accident now?'

Voltan laughed. 'I do so admire bravery,' he said. 'You always were calm in the face of danger. I shall kill you quickly, and then slash the skin to give the appearance of claw wounds. Clumsy, I know, but you have left me with little choice. You will be given a state funeral, and thousands will walk behind your coffin weeping. I don't doubt more statues will be raised to you, and men will speak for a generation about your greatness.' Suddenly he leapt forward, his sword snaking out. Bane blocked the blow, pulling the emperor behind him. Almost in the same move the Rigante sent a slashing riposte. Voltan leapt back from it, then chuckled. 'I have no time', he said, 'to give you another lesson. Kill him,' he told the guards. The men spread out and advanced.

At that moment there came the sounds of running men, booted feet pounding on the stairs. Scores of soldiers came into sight, weapons drawn, filling the corridor from both ends. Rage moved into view.

Jasaray, his hands clasped behind his back, looked at the treacherous guards. 'Put down your weapons,' he said, 'and your deaths will be clean and swift. Hold to them and I will see that your eyes are burned out, but not before you have seen all your relatives and friends, loved ones and children slaughtered.' His voice was not raised, but venom dripped from every syllable. The three guards, their faces grey, released their weapons, which clattered to the floor.

Voltan stood alone now, sword in his hand. 'Clever, clever Scholar,' he said. 'I underestimated you.'

'Most men do,' said Jasaray. 'Put down your sword.'

'Perhaps I would prefer to die fighting,' said Voltan.