"The Two Worlds lie in my hand," my voice spoke. "Observe well the black and golden bands of the royal memory-trace. Who holds this key is all-powerful. As for the mindless body yonder, let it be destroyed." Ommodurad locked eyes with mine. Then, "Let the deed be done," he said. The red-head drew a long stiletto from under his cloak, smiling. I could wait no longer.... Along the link I had kept through the intruder's barrier I poured the last of the stored energy of my mind. I felt the enemy recoil, then strike back with crushing force. But I was past the shield. As the invader reached out to encircle me I shattered my unified forward impulse into myriad nervous streamlets that flowed on, under, over, and around the opposing force; I spread myself through and through the inner mass, drawing new power from the trunk sources. Now! I struck for the right optic center, clamped down with a death grip. The enemy mind went mad as the darkness closed in. I heard my voice scream and I saw in vivid pantomime the vision that threatened the invader: the red-head darting, the stiletto flashing-- And then the invading mind broke, swirled into chaos, and was gone.... * * * * * I reeled, shocked and alone inside my skull. The brain loomed, dark and untenanted now. I began to move, crept along the major nerve paths, reoccupied the cortex-- [Illustration: "I reeled, shocked and alone inside my skull. The brain loomed, dark and untenanted now."] Agony! I twisted, felt again with a massive return of sensation my arms, my legs, opened both eyes to see blurred figures moving. And in my chest a hideous pain.... I was sprawled on the floor, I lay gasping. Sudden understanding came: the red-head had struck ... and the other mind, in full rapport with the pain centers, had broken under the shock, left the stricken brain to me alone. As through a red veil I saw the giant figure of Ommodurad loom, stoop over me, rise with the royal cylinder in his hand. And beyond, Foster strained backward, the chain between his wrists garroting the red-head. Ommodurad turned, took a step, flicked the man from Foster's grasp and hurled him aside. He drew his dagger. Quick as a hunting cat Foster leaped, struck with the manacles ... and the knife clattered across the floor. Ommodurad backed away with a curse, while the red-head seized the stiletto he had let fall and moved in. Foster turned to meet him, staggering, and raised heavy arms. I fought to move, got my hand as far as my side, fumbled with the leather strap. The alien mind had stolen from my brain the knowledge of the cylinder but I had kept from it the fact of the pistol. I had my hand on its butt now. Painfully I drew it, dragged my arm up, struggled to raise the weapon, centered it on the back of the mop of red hair, free now of the cowl ... and fired.