_"Have done, traitor who once was honored of the king," he whispered. "Have you no pity for him who once ruled in justice and splendor at High Okk-Hamiloth?"_ _"Had you not robbed me of my destiny, murderous dog," I croaked, "that splendor would have been mine."_ _"You came upon him helpless," gasped Gholad. "Make some amends now for your shame. Let the Rthr have his mind, which is more precious than his life."_ _"I but rest to gather strength. Soon will I rise and turn him from the couch. Then will I die content."_ _"Once you were his friend," Gholad whispered. "By his side you fought, when both of you were young. Remember that ... and have pity. To leave him here, in this ship of death, mindless and alone...."_ _"I have loosed the Hunters!" I shrieked in triumph. "With them will the Rthr share this tomb until the end of time!"_ _Then I searched within me and found a last terrible strength and I rose up ... and even as my hand reached out to pluck away the mind trace of the king I felt the bloody fingers of Gholad on my ankle, and then my strength was gone. And I was falling headlong into that dark well of death from which there is no returning...._ * * * * * I woke up and lay for a long time in the dark without moving, trying to remember the fragments of a strange dream of violence and death. I could still taste the lingering dregs of some bitter emotion. For a moment I couldn't remember what it was I had to do; then with a start I recalled where I was. I had lain down on the couch and pulled the head-piece into place-- It hadn't worked. I thought hard, tried to tap a new reservoir of memories, drew a blank. Maybe my Earth-mind was too alien for the Vallonian memory-trace to affect. It was another good idea that hadn't worked out. But at least I had had a good rest. Now it was time to get moving. First: to see if Ommodurad was still asleep. I started to sit up-- Nothing happened. I had a moment of vertigo, as my inner ear tried to accommodate to having stayed in the same place after automatically adjusting to my intention of rising. I lay perfectly still and tried to think it through. I had tried to move ... and hadn't so much as twitched a muscle. I was paralyzed ... or tied up ... or maybe, if I was lucky, imagining things. I could try it again and next time-- I was afraid to try. Suppose I tried and nothing happened--again? This was ridiculous. All I had to do was sit up. I-- Nothing. I lay in the dark and tried to will an arm to move, my head to turn. It was as though I had no arm, no head--just a mind, alone in the dark. I strained to sense the ropes that held me down; still nothing. No ropes, no arms, no body. There was no pressure against me from the couch, no vagrant itch or cramp, no physical sensation. I was a disembodied brain, lying nestled in a great bed of pitch-black cotton wool.