She took them by surprise; broke from them and ran, half naked, toward the door. Escape seemed imminent but she threw herself straight into the arms of a tall, scowling Martian who held her like a child and carried her back into the terrible room. As he walked toward them, those who had brought her there fell on their knees. One of them intoned, "Pandek--great Pandek--Lord of the North Hemisphere." "Not quite," Pandek said, speaking in Terran. "And never if I continue to be surrounded by bungling fools such as you, who cannot hold a slip of a girl. Had I not come through that door she would even now be making her escape." "She surprised us, great Pandek. It will not happen again." Callously, Pandek held Jean forth with one great hand and hit her sharply on the point of her chin with a doubled fist. "I'll make certain of that. Here--take her. Maybe you will be safer with an unconscious sacrifice. Comb out her hair--wash her body. Put on the golden harness--get her ready for the knife." They took Jean from him and laid her on a marble slab and continued their ministrations. Pandek, scowling deeply, walked to the window and looked out. Beyond and below was a great open square filled with people. They milled about a high, central platform upon which sat a throne and a sacrificial block. The block was caked with the blood of a thousand sacrifices made before the Reformation, centuries before. It had been removed from the square, but had been carefully preserved by a core of fanatics who had never given up hope of the Old Regime coming again into power; the old, bloody regime that worshiped the robust pagan gods and gave the people great spectacles. Now the block had been returned; the minds of the people had been inflamed and they awaited the first sacrifice of the New Age--the age in which proud pagan Mars would again demand its rightful place in the sun. Pandek's hand thrilled for the feel of the knife. He thrilled at the thought of driving it home and thus ushering in the New Age. His mind went, quite naturally, to Fanton, the weak old fool he had dragged down. It had been a clever coup. Of course, Fanton still had followers, but they had been misled, lied to, cleverly hoodwinked. A little fearful of a slip in his plans, Pandek had not had Fanton slain. He had merely thrown the old fool into a cell to die--had deprived him of rejuvenation. Perhaps Fanton was already dead. Pandek wondered. But perhaps not, and with plans having gone forward so smoothly, it was safe to kill the deposed Lord of the Northern Hemisphere. Pandek turned swiftly and went to see about it.... * * * * * Maxis, leading his cavalcade down the prison corridor and carrying the even frailer body of his Emperor, traveled half the breadth of the prison before danger confronted him; three guards loyal to Pandek the usurper and dedicated to his treacherous cause.