Almost, he thought bitterly. I almost had it. He'd been dreaming about his attempts to destroy a Krak, living it over again, and for a single fleeting moment, he would have sworn he found the chink in the Krak armor of invulnerability. Then it was gone. Over in the opposite corner, Marcia stirred. Nightmare, probably, but who wouldn't have a nightmare? But that dream, so real and in it he had been so sure of the Krak's vulnerability. And now that was gone. He drifted off to sleep again. When he awakened, he was surprised. It had not been by Shel Lur's dainty hoof. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he turned toward Marcia's corner. Instantly he was on his feet. She was gone! He darted from the bare room, through the door into Shel Lur's chamber. Striding into the center of the Krak's sleeping chamber, Sean McKenna halted abruptly, almost as if he had bumped up against an unseen, immovable force. A woman's laughter, dancing on joyous toes, stopped him. Marcia's laughter! Then his heart froze into a lump of dry ice within his chest. Only for fleeting moments had that laughter been joyous, now it was a mad, maudlin thing, twisted by the frightening fingers of hysteria. Sean sprinted across the huge sleeping room, blasted through the door of the dressing chamber. Marcia, her tiny body a limp blob lay on the cold floor, mad laughter dripping from her lips. Shel Lur sat impassively in the high-backed bench, a wig of human hair fixed on her head, her dark eyes staring at him. Around her neck was a necklace of black triangular shaped stones that winked evilly in the sullen light of the sun. Sean tried to comfort the sobbing, screaming Marcia, but her soft face was twisted and torn with frightful agony and her tiny red mouth still burbled raucous laughter. Sean turned coldly to Shel Lur. "What have you done?" he lipped, his green eyes stabbing flame. Shel Lur stared at him impassively, her wide-lipped mouth lax. It was then that Sean felt that latent hope for the Krak's vulnerability flare in his heart. Shel Lur was dead. His quick mind spun through a million queries. How had she died? Was it a Krak's ordinary death? What had happened to cast the life from her? Sean looked down at Marcia's contorted, writhing body. His answer lay there. With a cold mind, Sean bent down, jerked Marcia roughly to her feet. His strong palm lashed out, once, twice in snapping blows to Marcia's soft cheeks. The girl whimpered at the first blow; at the second, her sobbing slowed; and at the third, a semblance of intelligence brought a spark to her blue eyes. * * * * * Sean held her shoulders gripped tightly in his hands. He shook her gently. "Marcia," he said softly. "Marcia." Marcia's eyes reached up to his. She said dully: