The gaze of my eye fixed on Foster. Foster stared back, a look of incredulity growing on his face. "My Lord Rthr," I heard my voice say. The eye swept down and fixed on the manacles. The body drew back a step, as if in horror. "You overreach yourself, Ommodurad!" my voice cried harshly. Ommodurad stepped toward me, his immense arm raised. "Lay not a hand on me, dog of a usurper!" my voice roared out. "By the Gods, would you take me for common clay?" And, unbelievably, Ommodurad paused, stared in my face. "I know you as the upstart Drgon, petty Owner," he rumbled. "But I know I see another there behind your pale eyes." "Foul was the crime that brought me to this pass," my voice said. "But ... know that your master, Ammaerln, stands before you, in the body of a primitive!" "Ammaerln...!" Ommodurad jerked as though he had been struck. My body turned, dismissing him. The eye rested on Foster. "My liege," my voice said unctuously. "I swear the dog dies for this treason----" "It is a mindless one, intruder," Ommodurad broke in. "Seek no favor with the Rthr for he that was Rthr is no more. You deal with me now." My body whirled on Ommodurad. "Give a thought to your tone, lest your ambitions prove your death!" Ommodurad put a hand to his dagger. "Ammaerln of Bros-Ilyond you may be, or a changeling from dark regions I know not of. But know that this day I hold all power in Vallon." "And what of this one who was once Qulqlan? What consort do you hold with him you say is mindless?" I saw my hand sweep out in a contemptuous gesture at Foster. "An end to patience!" the Great Owner roared. "Shall I stand in my inner citadel and give account of myself to a madman?" He started toward my body. "Does the fool, Ommodurad, forget the power of the great Ammaerln?" my voice said softly. And the towering figure hesitated once more, searching my face. "The Rthr's hour is past ... and yours, bungler and fool," my voice went on. "Your months--or is it years?--of self-delusion are ended." My voice rose in a bellow: "Know that I ... Ammaerln, the great ... have returned to rule at High Okk-Hamiloth." "Months?" rumbled Ommodurad. "Indeed, I believe the tales of the Greymen are true and that an evil spirit has returned to haunt me. You speak of months?" He threw back his head, laughed a choked throaty laugh that was half sob. "Know, demon, or madman, or ancient prince of evil: for thirty centuries have I brooded alone, sealed from an empire by a single key!" I felt the shock rack through and through the invader mind. This was the opportunity I had hoped for. Quick as thought I moved, slashed at the wavering shield, and was past it---- I grappled onto the foul mind-matrix, scanned its symbolisms: a miasma of twisted concepts like great webs, asquirm with bristling nodes like crouching spiders--and through it all a yammering torrent of deformed thought-shapes.