“Not much. All that appears to be in Huon’s mind is that you may be concentrating too much on your personal schemes and not enough on the interests of his own plans. I think he would merely like to know how strong your loyalty is and if you have given up your personal plans…”

“Do you intend to obey his orders, Kalan?”

Kalan shrugged. “Do you suggest I ignore them?”

“Nobut what shall we do?”

“I will have to put you in the mentality machine, of course, but I think I can obtain the results that would be most in our interest.” Kalan chuckled, a hollow whisper of sound from within his mask. “Shall we begin, Meliadus?”

Meliadus moved reluctantly forward, looking nervously at the gleaming machine of red and blue metal, with its mysterious projections, its heavy, jointed arms and attachments of unknown application. Its main feature, however, was the huge bell hanging above the rest of the machine, depending from an intricate scaffold.

Kalan threw a switch and gestured apologetically. “We once kept this machine in a hall of its own, but

space has become so limited of late. That is one of my chief complaints. We are asked for so much and given so little room in which to achieve it.” From the machine came a sound like the breathing of some gigantic beast. Meliadus took a step backward. Kalan chuckled again and signalled for serpent-masked servitors to come to help him operate the device.

“If you will kindly stand beneath the bell, Meliadus, we will lower it at once,” Kalan suggested.

Slowly, suspiciously, Meliadus took his place. The bell began to descend until it had covered him, its fleshy sides writhing until they had moulded themselves completely to his body. Then Meliadus felt as if hot wires had been inserted into his skull and that they were probing into his brain. He tried to yell, but was muffled. Hallucinations beganvisions and memories of his past lifemainly of battles and bloodshed, though the hated face of Dorian Hawkmoon, twisted into a million fearful shapes, swam often before his eyes, as did the sweetly beautiful face of the woman he desired above everything, Yisselda of Brass. Gradually, through an eternity, his whole life began to be built up until he had recalled all that had ever happened to him, everything he had ever thought or dreamed of, not sequentially, but in order of importance. Riding over everything was his desire for Yisselda, his hatred of Hawkmoon and his schemes for ousting Huon from power.

Then the bell was rising and Meliadus looked once again upon the mask of Kalan. Meliadus felt mentally purged and in high spirits.

“Well, Kalan, what did you discover?”

“Nothing, at this stage, that I did not already know. The full results will take an hour or two to process.” He giggled. “The emperor would be much amused to see them.”

“Aye. He will not see them, I hope.”