A sudden recklessness surged through Burke. He opened his mouth to laugh. And stopped stone cold. Because suddenly, out of nowhere, another mind was probing in his brain! Instinctively, he strove to force out the invader. The very effort gave him new insight. For now, as he fought, he knew that the mind which he had joined in combat was not human, but alien. Its whole quality and mode of thought were of another order, another realm. Feeling that mind, fighting it, Burke all at once understood the malevolence he'd seen in Minos' eyes. In the sea-king, he faced a man possessed. Now, the alien thing sought to possess him, too. Savagely, Burke met its probings. Sweating, straining, he fought it, hate for hate, and turned it back, and drove it from his brain. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pressure was gone. But in the same instant, Minos cried out, "This is no god! This is but a man!" And from the crowd above, a thunderous echo: "Yes, yes! He's but a man!" The bearded king turned on Burke. His sword-point scraped the grillwork of the translator case still strapped flat against Burke's belly beneath the clothes. "Up, dog! Up from this holy shrine and meet your doom!" Bleak, dry-lipped, Burke started up the stair. At the top, directly ahead of him and in the front row of those waiting, stood Ariadne. As he climbed, now, her eyes caught his and, burning, held them for a moment. Then her hands moved in a quick, restricted gesture that momentarily pulled her stylized apron to one side. The Smith & Wesson hung beneath it. Burke drew a shallow, unsteady breath. Six steps more and he'd be at floor level. That left no time to question motives. Casually, he flipped back his lighter's lid. Three steps more, now. Another quick, shallow breath. Then, spinning the lighter's wheel with his right thumb, he knocked Minos' sword from his back with his left forearm and thrust flame straight at the sea-king's eyes. The monarch gave a choked, incoherent yell and jerked back. A shove, and he was crashing down the stair. Whirling, Burke charged like a battering-ram straight into the crowd at the head of the steps. Screams, scrambling, panic. Burke dived across two fallen priests, at Ariadne. The next instant he had the revolver, and his free arm was locked about her waist. When a thick-shouldered noble started towards him, swinging a great double-axe, he fired by sheer reflex. The axeman stopped short, a shocked expression on his face and a hole in his chest. When he fell, the whole throne-room sounded with the hiss of breaths sharply indrawn. Burke rapped, "I'm leaving. Your princess goes with me. Try to stop me and she dies!" Out the door, then. Down a corridor. Ariadne whispered, "Quick, my lord Dionysus! Up this stair, here!" More halls, more stairways. Big rooms and little. Finally, a tiny, windowless cubicle opening off a light-well. * * * * *