Bylanus mounted his steed and galloped toward the river. He could have psychokinesthized himself there, but the day was brilliant and clear, and he was in no great hurry. At last he reached the wreck of the royal barge of Nadia. He did not pause to examine Jlomec's bier, he had seen such funerary devices before. Something in the wreck itself confused him. There was a man. There was a woman. That fit the ritual--two servants to accompany dead royalty on its way. This was the custom of the Nadians. But the man.... On the man's crushed arm, the arm completely covered with blood, was a mark. It was as if something--say, a band of metal--had protected the arm at one point. For circling the upper arm was a band of skin not bloody like the rest, wide in the shape of a disc, then narrow all around. The bracelet of Portox-saviour! thought Bylanus. Had this dead man worn it? Had the imposter, now slain by the wild boar, taken it from him? _Oh Portox-saviour, Portox-saviour, how long dead? Am I too late, is it too late for this man, your heir...?_ As gently as he could, the huge Bylanus lifted the two bodies and put them in his saddle-bags. He faced the Kranuian Wood astride. The stallion held its head up, alert, ready. They psychokinesthized. And disappeared in a twinkling with Bram Forest and Ylia, both of whom were dead. CHAPTER XVI _The Raging Beast_ Although once mighty Ofridia of Tarth and certainly the nations of Earth had outstripped Bylanus' world in the physical science, the planet of the pink and green suns was supreme in biology. Thus had it needed Portox' help, a hundred Earth-Tarthian years before, when run-down entropy threatened its very existence. On the other hand, through biology, the science of Bylanus' world had come a long way in the conquest of death and destroyed human tissue. So it was that with some faint ray of confidence Bylanus brought the two broken bodies to the single large city of his park-like planet. There, tenderly, he left them in the care of specialists at the regeneration station, and began his long vigil. ... sensation and movement. Hardly anything at first. Bram Forest dreamed of dreaming. The motion was gentle, warm, comfortable. The glow of life and not the cold breath of death.... With it, with the first stirrings of regeneration, came the shadow of pain. But it was far away and almost impalpable, pain understood rather than felt. And slowly the pain departed. There came a time when Bram Forest realized he was not breathing, was, indeed, immersed in liquid. He floated, helpless, serene, strangely content. ... Until, with the first signs of impatience, strength flooded through his regenerated limbs. * * * * *